Coffeeshop Writers Group - Two new poems: Some day, Ed Quinn and Happy 69th Wedding Anniversary, Mom and Dad

First thing I did after Writers' Group was to check blood sugar, an excellent 84. To heighten it, I ate two whole wheat pretzels and a handful of almonds.

Why almonds? Read on.

First thing at group, we all buy our food.

I tested out my new debit card when I bought my Decaf, spiked with cocoa, cinnamon and nutmeg, which Ann refilled with hot water.

Feel free to use it, dear Reader. The password is Daylilly.

We all cooed over Carly's new purse from Target. My late friend Bill Cardinale used to call it Tar-JAY!

I wore a favorite shirt I bought for $1.50 at a garage sale in Doylestown.

Biologist Beatriz Moisset published her first e-book "Beginner's Guide to Pollinators." Mazel tov!

Linda Barrett wrote a terrific poem "Betrayal."

Some lines:

I sit here in the pew
on the Good Friday service
blame myself for her anger
wonder if I'm really a Christian
because I don't have it altogether
like she does
Whenever she calls me,
I hear muffled giggles
in the background
whenever I need her
she's never around
How can I fellowship with someone
who tells me of all that I lack
It's hard not to cry around her
when she stabs me in the back.....

The pastor wanted to know
why I stood there crying
I told him all about her
and all her lying
He said Jesus felt the same
because Judas sold him
for 30 pieces of silver

Donna read a poem about the demise of her Aunt Helen, seven years ago, though it felt like yesterday.

She died of lymphoma right after lunch.

A line of the poem read "I'm mad at God."

I told her I liked the line.

Besides, I said, God doesn't even exist so that's why your aunt suffered so much.

We all laffed.



Carly wrote a wonderful essay, "Using Your Noodle" about an article she read in Sun Magazine by Philip Shepherd, who says we have two brains - one in our head and one in our gut.

Beatriz, above right, wrote "What's the Connection between Honey Bees and Almonds?"

Millions of bee hives descend on the San Joaquin Valley to pollinate almond trees.

The bees are stressed by their long travels in tractor-trailers. Their numbers are rapidly diminishing from Colony Collapse Disorder, yet they're able to successfully pollinate all the almond trees.

Afterward, the bees are shipped to the next place they're needed.

Busy as a bee.

California produces 80 percent of the world's almonds. The price will go up, said Beatriz.

Our Ed, in pink shirt

SOME DAY, ED QUINN

Plunk. there you were
dropped in my lap
a corpse of melancholia and fear
grabbed by the throat
and dragged around
a dead rabbit
twenty-four seven

Fear bled you flat
o quivering mass of flesh
that was once Ed
dead as the soldiers in
Kandahar

For you
no noose nor gas nor bullet
but will walk outdoors
one day
and bask in the
bright sunshine
marveling at the flowers that
have grown in your absence
and bending down to pick a
red red rose
for the wife you left behind.

HAPPY 69th WEDDING ANNIVERSARY
MOM AND DAD
April 4, 2013

Good to be back at the dining room table
facing each other again
let's assemble them all
David has swooped down
looking better than ever
wearing a favorite striped shirt
talking slow
as his autism retreats
like the winter snow

We'll keep Gramma Lily away
never much cared for her -
six-year-olds don't much like
beatings with yardsticks -
and Dad I've forgiven you
your many trespasses
so take your place at the
head of the table
don't interrupt your wife
or give orders
I'm the one conducting
this poem

The lot of us are
getting old
and with it
infirmities unsuspected
the deuteronomy includes
but is not limited to
our favorite organs and soft tissue
breast, pancreas, kidney, liver
and corns on the soles of our feet
requiring supermarket products from
Aisle Eleven

Cancer has yet to intrude
and our hearts are strong
Dad, you look much better
than when I viewed your
fetus-like shriveled-up bod
that thirteenth of July

Ellen thought she killed you
when she turned you over
I, for one, wanted you dead
smothered with a pillow
like in "One Flew Over"
"How long is this going to last?"
you asked me

At ninety-one, your bald pate
shines as I run over to kiss it
you ask about my red nail polish
and I kick up my sandaled feet
to show you my polished toenails

What I don't say is
I think for myself, now, Dad,
your spell lasted far too long
and perhaps it's best you died
when you did
I was thirty-four with
two young kids

Mom's still at the house in the Valley
filling her time by shuffling papers
at the kitchen table
she died when you did.

I'm glad you'll be driving her today
in the shiny black Buick
with the portholes on the side
to Aisle Eleven of the Giant
I'll ride along in the backseat
with the man I love more than
any other in the world.