Haiku Honoring William Shakespeare’s 446th

When I die
my best bed’s going
to Drew Barrymore

Today’s prompt at ReadWritePoem: “Write a poem in which you combine a speaker and an event that normally don’t go together”

Warning: The imagery in this poem may not be appropriate for meal time

Rush Limbaugh’s Awakening

I must admit when I took
the Pagan coven up on
its offer to join their
equinocturnal party

I din’t think sleeping
sky-clad
could be so much fun

and after we sacrificed
the pumpkin to Osiris
I realized while Jesus

was incapable
of healing my pain
I no longer needed
OxyContin.

Today’s prompt at Poetic Asides: “write an exhausted poem”

Why I Hate Eugene Houdry

As I listen to the engine,
I imagine
I’m Audrey Hepburn
and I’ll wake up in Paris
and finally learn to cook

but then I realize
Audrey is dead
as are Humphrey and Holden
and maybe soon I’ll be in line
to get their autographs.

The car keeps running
and nothing happens,
because no one told me
Sabrina was filmed
pre catalytic converters.

I should have used a hibachi.

Yes…I’m behind. Time to play catch up.

A fellow poet wrote a poem about me a few days ago.

Here’s my response poem.

Punctuation Matters

The Lord spoke to Moses
through a burning bush

Through a blaze
of poems

Matt speaks
to us

In words
and phrases
no one understands

We attempt
to respond
intelligently

Poetic Asides prompt: Write a death poem

In Memoriam

I don’t recall what the dirt
we shoveled onto her grave
smelled like.

There had to be
an odor associated
with the crowd of mourners
wearing suits
on a summer day.

The voice of the Rabbi
leading the Kaddish
is irretrievable.

I still have the text
I somehow managed to read
at the synagogue.

Today’s poem is posted on my genealogy blog

I think this is my first “NewsPoem” of the month. News Story.

The Digital Archives at the LoC

I’m eating #lunch
I’m watching the brady bunch
I’m picking my nose
My @boyfriend sent me a red rose
I hate rap
I’m taking a crap
r/t I’m taking a crap
r/t r/t I’m taking a crap

ReadWritePoem Prompt: Smoke a Dubie

Poem Starting with a Line from Norman Dubie

The lights of the galaxies
are strung out over a dipper of gin.
Those were the words
spoken
seconds before the nurse
with a worried look
disturbing her otherwise
perfect face
attached the electrodes.

I assured her
I was just quoting
a Dubie.

I may not have
enunciated
clearly.

She drew my blood.

***
Below is a revision of a poem I wrote five years ago. The revision was inspired when I heard a reference today to Pope Benedict as the Nazi Pope. Here’s the original, if you are curious as to the extent of the revision.

Attacks on Joey

Some might see dark irony
in the white smoke that rose
on the 62nd anniversary
of the Warsaw Ghetto Rebellion.

However, Benedict,
when he was Joey
avoided Hitler’s service
until it was join or go
to a concentration camp.

And at the age of 17
Joey risked his life
through desertion.

I prefer to attack him
for his many actions
as an adult,
for as a kid,
Joey did more than I
may have had the courage to do.

Playing catch up…

Poetic asides Prompt: Pick a city, make that the title of your poem

Atlantis

Teacher told us
to write a poem
as if we were
in another city.

We could pick a city.
I wrote down the title
Atlantis
and turned it in.

“There isn’t any poem,”
she said. “Just a title.”
“But you can’t say anything
underwater.”

She laughed,
but I still got an F.

***
(note…the above poem fits the category of “free verse sonnet” for those who believe such a category exists.)
***

Variation on a theme…

Atlantis

Glub. Glub.
Glub.

Written today. Inspired by Thursday’s Word of the Day

Back Porch

Noon-time quiescence
beer, chips, salsa, friends
sunlight refractions

Today’s Prompt:write a self-portrait poem.

I seem to be writing a bunch of poems that I don’t wish to post on the blog, so once again I am digging into my collection, and posting a poem that meets the prompt at PoeticAsides, even though I didn’t write it recently. This one I wrote 12 years ago.

The Disability

At seventeen I entered the hospital
And when I left four months later
I was bound to a wheelchair
Until my legs found the strength to walk again.

I’d been diagnosed with a disease
Guillain Barre Syndrome
Where the antibodies that formerly destroyed a flu virus
Went on to destroy the insulation around my nerves.

Without the insulation, while my brain
Could still send messages to my muscles,
The messages never reached their destination.
It was as if all the phone lines were dead.

The antibodies were quick. Within 24 hours
I was paralyzed from the neck down.
Luckily the insulation around the nerves
Knows how to regrow. But it’s slow.

The thing I tell people, no one believes
Is I was the first in an epidemic of disabilities.
Before I entered the hospital, wheelchairs
Were few and far between.

Oh, I saw them occasionally,
But after I left the hospital
The numbers grew exponentially.
It can’t be a coincidence.

Laugh, think me insane if you will
But how else would you explain
The phenomena of the few
Before and the many after?