Saturday, January 21, 2017

A Day of Triumph for Donald John Trump - Poem: Prayer for Being a Grown Up - Poem: Thank you Henny Penny

INAUGURATION DAY, January 20, 2017

Woke up with the TV blaring. There was Judy Woodruff and her gang ready to report on the Inauguration.

Image result for judy woodruff

Darn! I wasn't ready. Had just woken up. Needed to do my back exercises so it wouldn't ache. Quickly I hit the floor, while watching the TV, and did a few.

Then ran downstairs to make my b fast. In my haste, I dreamed up something new. On a bed of cold spinach from the fridge - and cheese - I put two scrambled eggs - then sprinkled black pepper on it.

Am not entirely happy with the below poem. Skip passed it to get my opinion of Trump.


Yesterday morning I ate breakfast
at the newly reopened Terminal
Luncheonette. Recovered from
burns suffered in a basement fire.

As I crunched lovingly
on a piece of buttered rye
and stared at the sea of people - and
what a sea it was! - blacks and whites
thrown in together, people with missing
teeth, huge smiles, an entire table
beaming with joy as the waitress - or
should I say Princess? - placed their
hot steaming meals before them

Was it my imagination that an older gent
had ordered oatmeal? Wish I'd
thought of that. Median age: 64.
Median income: $14 an hour.
Green Eagles sweatshirts, fat-man
bellies leading the way to the table
on the new tile floor.

One child was there. Only one.
9 years old. Came with Mom-Mom.
Good looking kid, liked to smile
A true smile I dunno - or one to
please his companion, who had
curly red hair I saw from behind.

Scooping up my yellow scrambled eggs
mixed with grits, like paint on a
palette, dotted with sweet-smelling
black pepper, I thought, These
people voted for Trump!

It was just a thought drifting
thru the room like wisps of
pink cotton candy, but I clung
to it. It pleased me. And the
adult in me promised to give
Trump a chance.

I'd start anew, yes, a clean
start, smooth as the scrambled
eggs and grits sliding down
my throat, smooth as lemon
meringue pie.

And we shall overcome.

Image result for lemon meringue pie   Why is my mouth watering? Was just thinking that even for this person w diabetes it's too sweet.

With my breakfast in bed, I intently watching Trump being sworn in.

If the people want change and a new voice and new dialog, they've got it.

As Scott said, Where have you ever heard a Prez talking about factory workers and their lack of jobs? Or the millions of lives wrecked b/c of lack of education and all the crime in inner city schools.

So many promises!

As Robert Frost wrote - hold on, lemme look it up -  

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   
But I have promises to keep,   
And miles to go before I sleep,   
And miles to go before I sleep.
Woke up early this a m.... quickly hit the floor for the ache.... then dressed for the weather - PJ tops, light pants (too tired to change) and sneakers - coat, gloves and all important scarf - and walked around the block.

Noticed as I do so that I'm not a slow walker. To me I'm a fast walker, tho most people walk faster than me.


I crack the thin shell
of the brown egg which
sizzles as it goes
into the pan

Knowing nothing about
politics hunger poverty
or the plight of the

Henny Penny struts, head
held high, across the green
fields of Pennsylvania,
chaste as a nun, then plops
another egg onto the ground

She looks above at the grey
foggy sky and with a long-
remembered voice, she wonders
Is the sky falling?

To overcome her dread, she
joins her companions and
keeps her head down.

Pete Souza was the official White House Photographer for President Obama. Take a look at a selection of his photos by Time Mag.

Thank you. I think I will.

“President-elect Barack Obama was about to walk out to take the oath of office. Backstage at the U.S. Capitol, he took one last look at his appearance in the mirror,”Jan. 20, 2009.
Obama is about to take the Oath of Office in 2009.

Friday, January 20, 2017

The dreaded EYE appointment - Poem: Driving Home in Swirls of Caramel - Poem: Garbage Day (Thursday)

Image result for armstrong colt abingtonHey, camera crew, can we enlarge this photo?
Can't be done, Ruthie. Sorry!

Why dreaded? It takes up hours, and driving home with eyes dilated, can be a nightmare. Shall we see what happens?

Forgot to bring my book, so I leafed thru

Image result for birds and blooms magazine  Fabulous!

So many ideas. A person would write, I had no idea I would become a bird photographer, but when I retired I took a couple of pictures of birds and couldn't stop.

Image result for birds and blooms magazine      I'm within half an hour of finishing the AUDIO book Defending Jacob, which I listen to in the car.

What dyou think? Should I go out into the car - it's nearly 2 am - ride around and listen?

Am trying to imagine your votes.... here we go... 3 vote Yes, and 2 vote no.

I'll say this: I accidentally checked the weather and there's Patchy Fog outside. 

Image result for caramel candy


Reality is subjective
Why would I say "caramel"
and not "mashed potatoes"?

I'm a sugar-starved
diabetic, leaving
Dr George's office
after many a test
and eye drops that
open my pupils wide

This is easy, I think,
as I drive off in the
parking lot, a rehearsal
for dread things to come

The swirls come at me
faster and faster
a ride in the "fun house"
out of control
legally blind
Get off the road, Lady!

I inch forward, a supplicant
on her knees, then make the
crucial turns, Davisville,
Ball, Greyhorse, and on
home, up the drive, sit
there and listen to my
audio book, as if nothing
untoward had occurred.

Image result for defending jacob

Wait a minute! Nearly forgot! This morning, Thursday, was Garbage Day.


And I did, so I could
take the high hill
round the block.

On this Garbage Morn
as the puffing Green
Dragon chuffed up
the hill, I learned

We have babies in
Huggies in our
neighborhood, our
favorite food is
pizza pizza pizza
we love beer and
more beer, water
in plastic bottles,
Mexican food in
colorful cartons

The Green Dragon
cleaned up our
street except for
the papers. Mine
are in a huge
carton, soggy
with dew.

All my aborted writing
is in there, not fit
to see the world.

Thursday, January 19, 2017

Finished watching the Frontline Divided America show - Poem for Rem's b'day

What we're listening to: The Creator has a Master Plan.

Pharaoh Sanders on sax , b. in 1940, has been described in rhapsodic tones.
Pharoah Sanders photo.jpg

Wonder if Obama knows of this dude.

The obnoxious female D J said this about the vocalist. Not everyone likes him.

That's disgusting.

This composition featured vocalist Leon Thomas's unique, "umbo weti" yodeling. Hey, let's find a recording of umbo weti.

I'll listen later. Gotta finish my last piece for Halcyon.

Image result for frontline divided states of america

Yes, I watched the last episode of Frontline's Divided States of America.

I must tell you when the show was over, I got up from my bed and said, I feel like killing myself. There seemed no point in living in an atmosphere like the U S A.  Of course I'm fine now, but it was my immediate response, sort of like living in a tyrannical, misanthropic state where everyone hates everyone else. 

Obama was a desperate man. None of his legislation had passed. Republicans were afraid to pass anything, fearing they wouldn't be elected again.

The interviews were great: people had voted against him or for him, laughing now since the issues were well behind them. Gun control, new immigration laws, and the killings of black young men by the police.

It took Obama a whole month to speak up about the killing of Trayvon Martin. A whole month! More young black men were slaughtered by the cops. Zimmerman, a neighborhood "watch dog" was found not guilty of killing Trayvon, "who could've been my own son," said Obama.

What jeers he got for that statement, yeah, wearing preppy clothes. Such cynicism.

Riots ensued when Zimmerman was found not guilty.

Obama gave a pathetic response, citing our constitution and our faith in the system of law.

It was really disgusting. What is the matter with the man!

Finally, his courage came alive when he appeared at the Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church, in Charleston, S C, where a white supremacist was hiding inside, waiting to kill as many people as possible.

Obama realized for the first time that the parishioners and preachers were all stand-ins for killing the first black president.

What is going on in this country?

Obama flew out to the church.

Read about the killer Dylann Roof.  

This 22-year-old racist has no idea what a large diverse country America is, as he probly only hangs out with people like himself. 

Obama boarded his airplane and told friends he was thinking about singing Amazing Grace but couldn't decide.

Image result for obama sings amazing grace      Probably his most significant moment in his presidency. He met today with Trump, who said they had an excellent meeting. Both were cordial.

Since my goal today was to submit to Halcyon mag, I've done two-thirds of it. Pursue the Wonderful Into Spring is a 27-line poem I submitted. Word length must be 30 or less. It was very easy to write.

And I submitted my Leaving Home poem about the mourning doves who left our peach tree

Then the editor asks you to submit a nonfiction piece about creativity or relaxing or a few other things.

Rem, from my writing group wrote me saying it was his b'day. I emailed other people from out writing group asking them to congratulate him.

When I sent him my poem I BCC'd Beatriz, Marf, and Linda.

Rem said about my poem: Touche. Very funny. Eggs sizzling in the pan, this is your mind on R.E.M. Heard "At the Hop" by Danny and the Juniors on the radio today, nice treat, cuz that was number one song when I was born.--Rem


Rem is a strange young feller
but that's why we like him.
He dropped into our lives
like eggs splattering
onto a grill.

What's in a name?

I see him riding over
the plains in cowboy
attire, shiny pointed boots,
plaid shirt and snakeskin
belt holding up his over-
sized Levis. 

In his saddlebags, he's
got some ice and Coca-
Cola. That's his thang.
And we love him for it.

Who's that 'round the
No, cant be, but it is.

Mel Brooks farting and
crooning, Happy Birthday
Happy Birthday, my man,
R. E. M.

Wednesday, January 18, 2017

Frontline: The Divided States of America - Poem: Hold On, We'll Be Right Back - Poem: Clogs

Last night, I watched Frontline and couldn't believe what I was watching. The sheer hatred Americans had for President Obama.

The man who called him a liar at a press conference became a hero.

Variety mag did an interview with Michael Kirk, charter member/writer of Frontline, which you can read here.

Michael Kirk Frontline

Michael Kirk

Excerpts from the interview:

V:  “Divided States” helped viewers finally make sense of the last eight years in American politics. Was that the idea?

Kirk: What we’re doing is slowing it all down a little bit for you. Of the 75 things that went across your screen, we’ve picked 12 that are all memorable and all really matter — against a narrative outcome that you know about but didn’t know why it happened.

Longform narrative is a dot-connecting exercise, but it’s more than just connecting them. It’s which ones are you connecting, and what are you revealing about them. Even if you saw the event, it wasn’t in context. You saw it in its own terms — which is a little bit of the trick that Trump does. He’s moving it all so fast that there’s no context for anything that’s happening, so you forget the outrageousness or the importance of what just happened because you’ve moved on to the next thing.

In the moving target that is the media right now, what is real and how do you decide what is real? Because even the outcomes can get smeared, it’s moving so fast.

V:  Where do you start?

I pick a character rather than an event. Donald Trump, Kellyanne Conway, David Axelrod, Barack Obama, Hank Paulson. You pick somebody in the middle of a crisis, and you say, “I’m going to stay with him.”

V: It’s amazing how much people were willing to tell you.

Sometimes it surprises even me. We just start talking about it, and many people in the middle of an interview will look at me and say, “You know, I never said that before. … I never really thought about it in that context.”

With somebody like Donald Trump, it might be fun to interview him, but I don’t think I’d get anything that I really want. His method of communicating to the press primarily is the tweets. He doesn’t go into a room and take our questions. If you’re a reporter or a journalistic institution, how do you keep track of that?

Was looking for a photo of thee credit union where I went today to deposit the measley donations we received last night. $5 a head we charge, or $8 per family.

Since the 'bridge was out' Scott routed me to the church. Pouring all the way. I could barely see and sat stiff-jawed clenching the wheel.

Instead I found a pic of young Grace. my granddaughter, at Mom's house.

Wanted to buy Sarah a gift for her birthday and also for the cruise.

Bought her two warm winter hats and a straw hat for our Jazz Cruise in the Carib.

Went on various websites to buy the gift. Finally I was on the J C Penney one. Could not figure out how to proceed b/c they insisted on shipping the goods to my home.

Impossible I told Georgia, who helped me figure things out.

She and her mom live in Columbus OH. They formerly lived in West VA.

I told her about my W VA relatives and told the name of my short story, which she said she'd read. The Last Lawn Party. 

I asked Georgia if I should drink coffee today. She wisely asked if anything bad happens when I do so.

No, I said.

She bade me drink it. I haven't yet. 

Onkar Sharma of Mumbai, I believe, who runs Literary Yard has not published my story Kafka's Other Woman. Why?

Gonna go to Scott's now to take my second nap of the day, Marce.

Then, per a goal I set last night at our ND meeting, am gonna submit my shtuff to Halcyon. Monique wants the POV in the third person, hence my poem below Clogs.


Thank you for your patience.
Please press one. Now press six.
Hello, my name is Sue. Thank
you for your patience. May I
help you?

I state my problem. Sue, from
Virginia, says, We have no
record of your account.

Julien is walking by with
his big dog and
little dog.

Thank you,
Sue," says I,
and hang up. Fast.

Now I dial the line that
was busy early in the

Says Glenn, you had the
same problem last month
when you were trying to
pay your bills.

Attention like this I do not
need. Why can't he remember
me for my early walks around
the block, or the pink socks
from the Sox Lady in Furlong
that grace my feet?

Or the painted bird houses
out front where the
wrens and sparrows
sing for joy?


Image result for clogs


She's the only one
on the dark street,
roadway slick from
last night's deluge

Fast footfalls behind,
a joggeress passes on
the right.
The Carrs on the high hill
are asleep, not even a night
light in the bathroom,
she's old and better not

The lovely stone house
has a lavender light
shining like The House
of Solomon in the bible

All she could do was stare
as her clogs pattered on
the wet road, she shivered
in the cold, her PJ tops
had rolled up when she
put her coat on

Clogs that swerved on
their own like a drunken
No cars passed by. She
was safe as she crept close
to a house where a religious
lawn ornament looked like
a urinal

What if she were drunk, but,
no, and our drunkard Billy,
left this earth awhile ago.

She stood in her driveway
watching her breath curve
toward the sky

Then looked up
way way up, where
were they? The constellations
that guided the ancient seafarers
home. As she entered her own.