Long No idea Poems
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Poor dead thing.
A mole some said.
Ugly for sure.
A vole others agreed.
The only thing we agreed on was that it was dead.
Poor dead whatever.
No funeral.
No service.
No words.
Just a hole dug in the earth
And a decaying body.
I wondered as I was digging
What else I would discover.
Hoping if I did it would not be human.
I have no idea what I would do about that.
A vole someone argued.
I rolled my eyes.
What did it matter?
It is not like we were going to be singing a song.
Or saying a prayer.
Or giving it last rites.
Too late for that.
I ignored them all and kept digging.
Hoping to find nothing….
Like a patient alley cat I sat and watched
Knowing some would say my goal was unreachable, impossible,
Impractical? Possibly. Implausible? Maybe
But it there is a one in a million chance
This means that there is a chance
The crescent moon encouraged me, she always does.
I laughed at the sparkle she added to my dendrite base.
Do it! She said to me through ancient telepathy. You have the muse for it.
Trixie, my poetry muse began dancing, delighted at being mentioned.
I will, I told them. I will. I am almost ready.
What is stopping you? My best friend and confidant asked me.
I have no idea, I told her. Something but I am not really sure what.
I am encouraging you to take the chance, she said.
Feeling loved and appreciated, I felt enthusiastic now.
So I began heading toward the chance with my name on it.
Why do other people go into a store?
I have no idea,
But when I go in,
It’s a resale store, and I’m
There to buy something.
I don’t care if it’s a stuffed antelope
With an orange neon butt, and a grin
That makes me chuckle, and God forbid if
It makes me laugh, because
If it makes me laugh,
Into the cart it goes.
I usually fill up one red plastic cart, and
Check out, run back in, and
Fill up another cart, before
My daughters know I’ve started
Filling up their side of the car,
Amazing the clerks, but
Not my daughters.
In 1985, during a little
Weekly Saturday Caren wants to go
To all the garage sales in the state day,
I ran over a squirrel and we
All cried.
But we laughed again after
taking all of the furniture
And the bass boat out of
The car, to re-load so we could
Squash in a 9 foot giant stuffed lion
Whose big half-on head lolled out
Behind my headrest, waving in the
Driver’s window at oncoming
Traffic for a couple of towns or two.
My two youngest, happiest
daughters were
Laughing all the way home.
I think we sang too,
Leaving out all the words
I did not know, but at the
Top of our joyful lungs.
The 13 year-old daughter
was not with us, of course, as I was an
Embarrassment to her those
First 20 years.
What a great day!
A Caren Garage Sale
Frenzy day.
I live for those.
"A dagger of pain, a tear of grief" Quote by Constance La France
They told us of the agony these poor birds go through.
They invited us to join them, there was work we could do.
Approaching was the annual licensed duck hunting shoot.
Slaughter of ducks, maybe eliminate a species to boot.
Anybody could pay five dollars and go shooting for fun,
Mostly young guys looking for an excuse to shoot a gun.
There was the dad showing off and brought his son.
Such a good time shooting innocent ducks, for everyone.
A group of us travelled by bus to rescue what we could.
Most of us didn’t know what we’d find but we soon would.
They warned us the shooters would have guns and beer.
A mixture, that you don’t mess with, it’s better to fear.
Wings flapping wildly is the first we see as we arrive.
A mallard out on the pond looked injured but alive.
Bullets going everywhere not a safe place to be at all.
Sadly, watching ducks in flight being shot and fall.
What angered most of us was what we couldn’t believe?
After shooting the birds they made no attempt to retrieve`
All had gone, the ground and pond were full of wounded birds.
It was such an ugly sight. Too ugly for us to even utter words.
We had bandages and cages to load them in the bus.
The ones that weren’t going to make it were the worst for us.
I had no idea this rescue mission would be beyond belief.
We did so they wouldn’t suffer “A dagger of pain, a tear of grief”.
Sponsor: Constance La France
Contest : Name Writing Challenge A Quotes
16/5/2023
The Gift
A little child received a gift.
It's wrapping very plain.
It set outside the cottage door.
In the cold, hard, driving rain.
With happy smiles she brought it in.
And sat it on the floor.
To receive a gift on such a day;
Surprised her to the core.
With bated breath she opened it,
To see what was inside.
Her heart beat with excitment;
Her spirit rose with pride.
When the paper fell away;
She felt like such a fool.
For there upon the kitchen floor;
Lay an ancient, rusty tool.
"What am I to do with this"?
She asked her Mommy dear;
"I have no idea what it is".
Her eyes were filled with tears.
"I have no use for such a thing,
Oh Mom what should I do"?
"It is your gift" her Mother said:
"So that is up to you".
She carried it her whole long life;
Clutched tightly in her fist.
And always asked the question.
"What do I do with this"?
I begin to ask a question
get interrupted
have no idea how what it was
and it had seemed important a few minutes ago
how do I lose my thoughts this fast?
has it always been so or is this new for me?
I stare at the phone, the speaker has interrupted me yet again
why am I friends with her? She is bullyish and boring
I remember now why I phone her
she is always available; answers the phone every time
This should have tipped me off
There are no other friends; she has interrupted them too often
How many other friends do I have that meet this same criteria?
I look down the list of names as she babbles on about something.
I used to have to say “uh-huh, and that’s right, and tell me more”
But now her incessant drone keeps going without prompts.
I decide to throw in a comment. She stops dead sentence.
You made me forget what I was going to say, she says in a mean way.
I feel glad.
He rented a little shack way out in the woods in Mt. Royce
Where no one would hear his guitar playing or his voice
He had never been to a small- town gas station before.
He had no idea the phone calls before he got out the door.
They were whispering his name from every tree in the woods.
He was a famous country western star, Mr. Tubbsy Goods.
He heard them all whispering, so invited them to join him.
Had an impromptu concert, with the whole town and Finn.
Finn was his dog who walked over and sat on a lady’s lap.
That’s okay, she assured him. Her name was Pat Clap.
At the end of the night, he said “okay, that’s a wrap.”
But they would not leave him alone, which was kind of cr…..
Do you recall your very first prom?
Was it a disaster or was it fun?
From a girl's point of view, I could
barely wait, to see my date!
And run under a starry sky to meet him
at our white front gate.
The time got closer, oh where could
he be?
I was getting anxious and in living teenage
agony.
Finally, the phone call came, ah fate!
Can be so unkind, for my date was more
than late!
On a surgery table he did sleep!
His appendix, being removed, I just had
to weep.
We both looked forward to the dance.
Alas, there went my dream~ I had no chance!
But, God saw my young heart was breaking,
To the dance, I went, had no idea his
older brother, was en route to pick me
up for the prom, I was shaking,
He was older than Donnie but a great
date in every way.
A knight in shining armor, he was, indeed
on that fifteenth of May!
June 17, 2020
7pm PST
Poem # 1,25O
It all started interestingly
Until the arrival of Mr. Lecturer
Then there comes the boredom of the four walls
Looking back, all heads on the table
It looked like they were praying
Little did I know they were sleeping
Out of the boredom of the four walls
It all started interestingly
And indeed very romantic
And highly fantastic
Not until you suddenly turned a dove
As gentle as a sheep
What happened to you?
I have no idea
Suddenly the bubbling love city
Turned a graveyard
Hmmmm…the boredom of love city
Visitation to the other room
Used to be very interesting
Different day comes with different styles and position
Being a “Barca” fan used to be fun
As “Dog” used to be our favorite pet
When you suddenly turned a “Missionary”
I have no idea
Beating Chelsea became inevitable
As you became Nigerian politics
Static in one position
The fun then then turned boredom
The boredom of the other room
It started interestingly
With the spirit of Matriculation in the air
First year was awesomely interesting
Angola and Mozambique hall were so fun
Until part 2 and above
When nothing seems interesting again
But the anticipation of FYB moment
The boredom of School
Boredom is not good
So if it is getting boring
Don’t give up trying
Make it interesting
At all cost without hurting
Because...
Boredom can be frustrating
When I was young, most of the words I heard were kind
There was never cursing in my house
At least, not in front of me
When I was young, I never saw my dad cry, or laugh much
The first time I remember him crying was at my 5th grade continuation
He didn’t cry when I told him about my thoughts
He didn’t cry when I told him about my sexual assault
He learned only to cry tears of happiness
His emotions were forbidden
When I was young, my mom used to tell me that certain things I said made her sad
They made her sad because they were true
I learned this when my younger brother called her an alcoholic
She said ‘That makes me sad’
My brother was 6
When I was young, my parents got divorced
I was in the 3rd grade
When they told my brother and I
I went to my dad to cry
My mom was jealous, and thought I would choose him over her
So she lied
She deflected everything she had done onto him
That’s how I learned to lie
That’s how I learned my mom was a child predator
When I was young, I took care of my brother
My dad wasn’t allowed to see us
My mom was always busy with her lies
So I took the role
I was 8
It skewed my mental age
I acted like I was 11
Now I’m stuck 3 years ahead
When I was young, I struggled when my mental health
In 3rd grade I was diagnosed with GAD and MDD
I was a suicide risk
Later in life my therapist brought up OCD
And then PTSD
And then OSDD
When I was young, I was sexually assaulted
I was in Kindergarten
He was in 2nd grade
Every day
On the bus
The front row
Why didn’t the bus driver do anything?
I feel bad for the kid who sat across from us
He saw it
He would always ask if we were kissing
I wonder if he remembers
I only realized in 5th grade
I wonder if he knows now
I wonder where he is now
I hope he’s okay
I hope he’s forgotten
I hope he has no idea
I hope he’s doing great in school
I hope he never goes through what I went through
I wouldn’t wish that on anyone
Not even that 2nd grader on the bus
Who I’m in school with to this day
I see him in the halls
I hear his name
I take my pills and move away
Thats how I live
Day-to-day