my sister sews
Has a Cadillac of a sewing machine
it cost as much as her first house
it has gadgets, dials, electronic commands
intimidates me
She plunks me in front of a serger
I never even heard of a serger before now
I am going to have to look up how to spell it
On a regular sewing machine, you do not sew off the material
on a serger, you have to sew three or four inches of stitches off the material
It takes me a day to get used to this
fancy sister
fancy seamstress
fancy machines
Categories:
plunks, sister,
Form: Free verse
Beau my young dog gazes toward the west
He stands, barks, and runs up the driveway
He comes back from the east
Meaning he has circled the house
He stares at me
plunks down and puts his head on his front paws
I hear other dogs barking
At least two, from the south
Beau does not seem to notice them
A loud rough bark from my right startles me
It is Buddy, my big dog; I did not know he was there
He begins running up the driveway, Beau chases him
They are barking as if bandits with machetes are up there
Lopping off the neighbor’s heads and feet.
They come back from the east,
With long tongues and happy smiles.
Categories:
plunks, dog,
Form: Narrative
A portrait in a parlor
A fancy dame or two
A dog named Ruffles singing
In front of you-know-who
A rinny-tin piano
Plunks out a tinny tune
And this ole western cowboy
Is heading home for June
But June has got her dander up
And will not hear of me
Singing in her kitchen
For all the world to hear
Oh, the sunny side of life
Has got charisma – yes!
And when its got a smile
That’s when I'm at my best!
So have a drink or two
And hum a ditty tune –
I’m heading back to town
And far away from June!
Categories:
plunks, fun, humor,
Form: Rhyme
Autumn magic in the air, leaves flow from the giant oak.
Sheila plunks herself down in a pile of reds and browns.
The sky is turquoise today, the air is nippy.
She wears a red scarf, for it was her grandmother’s.
She is feeling Nana’s presence this morning.
Her hot chocolate is still warm. She takes a sip.
This is nirvana – sitting in a pile of leaves, feeling grandma.
October 11th, her grandmother’s birthdate. She smiles.
I knew you would come, she tells her.
To her right she sees a flicker of a sliver of something.
Her husband comes outside and takes a photo.
When it is developed they see a large golden orb.
Grandma, she tells him. He smiles.
She is always nostalgic in October.
She and her grandmother were so close.
Even closer now, grandma tells him.
But he does not hear.
Categories:
plunks, autumn, grandmother,
Form: Free verse
Delicate hands sweep over the strings
Stirring chords and melodies meet,
The harpist gently plunks and pings
Producing music soft and sweet.
She does not smile, concentrating
On the nuances of each crescendo,
Tenor of the performance elevating
Each measure a startling innuendo.
The climax brings a stirring rush
Exhilarating orchestral responses
As over the audience falls a hush
The music its hearers ensconces.
Written July 16, 2022
Categories:
plunks, music,
Form: Rhyme
Cocktail party, only we renamed them barbeques.
I still do not want to be here, dragged by a so-called friend.
It is free food, he had a point there.
He drops me immediately, heads toward the dazzling ones.
I am worse than common.
I sit in a corner, listening to music I despise, hoping no one talks to me.
I am on my third plate of food when someone plunks down.
What do you do?
I do lots of things.
For a living?
I am a writer.
Her face turns weird. She begins to laugh. Excuses herself. Wanders off.
No doubt looking for a lawyer or a doctor.
This is not a soiree’ for the unemployed.
Two minutes later someone else plunks down.
She does not stay long either. I am not interesting, not dazzling, not anything.
Just a writer, who writes. Nothing more.
If I did not have a compulsion to do it, I might do something else.
But for right now, this is me, and I am it.
I take out my notebook and begin making fun of them on paper.
Categories:
plunks, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Prose Poetry
Plunk plick plat splat
The drip of faucet compels me to
Throw down a few notes
Words I had not thought of six seconds before
Cardinals and sparrows
Twittering and chittering
I listen hard, capturing nothing
Yet inspired by everything.
My subconscious grabs these sounds
Work on them as I slumber
Astral travel my go-to-place
As my muse sings what she finds funny
We wake up suddenly
A helicopter of a mosquito
Dive bombs me
Urging me to write of my killing ways
I pick up a pen
Dashing down an inky path
in a notebook full of everything
and nothing, twisting me with crazy ideas
Shiny thoughts, dark ideas,
Whimsical dragons, laughing at my silliness
Leading me down paths with their plunks plicks plats and splats
Categories:
plunks, poetess,
Form: Free verse
They get off the bus
fresh from their houses
Crisp pink cheeks
Glossy hair
Shoes pristine
Bows in their hair
Smiles for their friends
Smell fresh
Look clean
The day plunks them into puddles
Rolls them around in dirt
Throws them off slides,
watches them twirl onto grassy knolls
Gives them sweet smells of reality
Tastes of earth and salt
We put them back onto buses
Not so bouncy
Not so proud
They are unrecognizable
Wiser now
Not as innocent
Or as pristine
It is a wonder their
families recognize them
Categories:
plunks, 4th grade, 5th grade,
Form: Free verse
drops drip
from leaky tap
plonking annoying plunks
that bore holes in your peace, shattered
Must Stop!
Categories:
plunks, anger, water,
Form: Cinquain
When youth in full bloom
during Spring's green boom
See a robin fly by
or geese in the sky
Do not feel impressed
by Spring's new green dress
Thoughts all aflutter
tongues twist and mutter
When pretty young girls
with green bows and curls
Skip by with their friends
chit chat without end
Spring's green with envy
can't feel the frenzy
She plunks herself down
a sullen green frown
Soon clouds fill the sky
big tears fall from high
People just scatter
What is the matter?
Dear Spring takes a look
at the smiles she took
Demeanour improved
Her Green-ness is soothed.
Poetry Contest submission: It's Spring. Show me the green
Sponsor: Francine Roberts
Date: March 21, 2015
Categories:
plunks, humor, spring,
Form: Couplet
When
written
words settle
like lightning zaps
to marrow and bone,
communication blooms.
If metaphor plunks down with
dull thud, or hides behind a dim
screen, the seeker's intellect bangs shut.
Shoot for the goal with sharp lucidity
Categories:
plunks, poetry, writing,
Form: Etheree
Finally the hot air gives place in the first rain
The summer lawn is soaked under a drippy layer
The rainfall plunks down the petals of flowers
Along the fences, some green bushes sustain
Apple, cherry and plum leaves prepare to fall
String bean, peas and cucumber vines droop
Green onion, garlic and parsley begin to stoop
The September heat swings by mountain squall
The bald high peaks scattered by early snow
At dawn the tops are covered with baby flour
That transforms into snowy clouds within hours
It is the sign to say goodbye to summer glow
The rains painted the colorful mountain forest
Decorated with red, yellow, golden and orange
Unlike the evergreen forest of my native land
Then colorful view become white like the crests
Mountain rain and view reveal natural creation
The fiery summer air has to fall and farewell
Then autumn and winter succeed to ring the bell
Man’s physical and moral change every season
Categories:
plunks, autumn, mountains, nature, rain,
Form: Rhyme
She plunks down a plate of egg rolls
Man, oh man, do these greasy pieces of heaven take tolls
On my heart, dear Mama
Shows me love with food piled on tables that never end
Iced tea, Pho, spaghetti, rice and pork chops
Sternly setting bowls down in front of you and encouragin’
To take pieces of buttery garlic bread and mop it up
Love, bestowed upon us in showers of peppered chicken
Spending hours in the kitchen
To prove some affection
In saucers of soy sauce and dumplings that went on for miles
She’d put adoration in soup, spicy reflections
Of passionate motherly love
Mama, she never smiled
Unless someone complimented her style, the swagger
Of her intimate cooking skills, the way she swung her dagger
Of specialties, killing hunger, cravings
All her meals ending with ravings
Of the best kind
Scraped knees and broken hearts are cured with warm chocolate cake, suede
Smooth, mending them better then when they were made
Mama shows fondness through ice cream and steak
Warm dinner plates
Her “I Love You” was a big portion of lasagna
Nobody says “I Love You” better then my Mama
Categories:
plunks, family, mother, love,
Form: Free verse