This blog is devoted to a select group of poets. We're starting with poets from the Ann Arbor area, but, hey, if you're from Detroit, Grand Rapids, Saginaw or the Upper Peninsula, then that is okay, too. We've even been so generous to accept poets from other parts of the USA and the entire country of Canada!
Our goal is to provide you with a prompt every day from which you are to garner inspiration and submit a poem. How to submit will be very easy. Just put your poem or short story in the comments section and hit post. You may not immediately see your post, but it is there under the "Comments" section. You may need to click on "Comments" to see your poem. It is there on another page.
Our goal is to provide you with a prompt every day from which you are to garner inspiration and submit a poem. How to submit will be very easy. Just put your poem or short story in the comments section and hit post. You may not immediately see your post, but it is there under the "Comments" section. You may need to click on "Comments" to see your poem. It is there on another page.
You may need to have a Gmail or Yahoo or AOL account to post in the comments section. Most of you do have Gmail or Yahoo or AOL, but for those of you that don't, it's extremely worthwhile to open up one of these email accounts now! This way you've got a chance to get your work out there in the world.
Really
ReplyDeleteI'll admit I have little idea who my father was
Our backstory is lengthy
Three hundred book sized pages
At least
Yet where I lose him can be as simple as
These few facets:
He enjoyed chipped beef on toast
This dish referred to in impolite society
As "shit on a shingle"
When a thing or a person disgusted him
He would employ this phrase
"They" or "him" or "her" or "it" could gag a maggot"
I'd never seen a maggot
Until the day my live-in boyfriend left dishes in the sink
And not being his slave or a housewife
I left the dishes there until the moment I saw
The white slithering worms that heat and meat
Combine to God knows what end
When my father took ill
He didn't come down with the usual fever
Or chills
Or body aches
Or stomach upset
Instead he would have the "dry heaves"
When you are nine-years old
You have no idea what heaves are
Much less dry ones
(I still can't get a firm picture his symptom)
He wasn't an outlandish man
He wasn't even a character
Like the rest of the bigger than life family members
That populate our original family of six
Still when I think about him
Dead now twenty-two years
I can't help but feel a slither
I can't help feeling a little sick
Catherine Powers
January 20, 2014
Copyright 2014
Decrypting the Uncoded
ReplyDeleteStop. This site is not secure.
“I really enjoyed meeting you.”
Message selected. Spoken. Sendee received.
Search for significance.
A suspicion of the superfluous syllables,
Sloppy, surly, sarcastic, sadistic.
Really?
MUST the enjoyment of our meeting be stressed SO?
So as to hide the truth?
An unsettling sensation?
Social anxiety?
Insincere niceties?
Or perhaps the opposite;
Suppose it was an over-analysis of simple emphasis.
No secret meanings, no deceit;
SO the enjoyment of our meeting MUST be stressed.
In order to see the truth,
An infectious smile,
Social connection,
Authentic kindness.
A sentence has one in seven meanings,
And actions speak louder than words.
Save the date.
“I’ll see you soon, really.”
© Deborah Cornett February 8, 2014