Regulars.
Martha had a great idea. Why doesn't our Coffeeshop Writer's Group put out a magazine of our fine poets. She hadn't been with us when we used to meet at Weinrich's Coffeeshop. We published Icing on the Cake, underwrin by Stephen Weinrich!
Couldn't find a photo of our Icing on the Cake poetry journal. Everyone above was published in it. Here we are during one of our meetings at Weinrich Bakery.
Marf, this was a wonderful place to meet. But they closed down the coffee shop on weekends cuz it didn't make a big enough profit.
Martha, the idea person in today's group, had another great idea. I told her that I'd written poems about possible deceased donors for my kidney transplant.
She suggested I have a display case at our library - the Upper Moreland Library - on transplants. Look, I have a photo have Margie Peters, library director, on file.
Margie Peters, FW. That stands for Fabulous Woman.
Okay, who's the next victim.
Carly Brown gives full attention while Marf reads. She's got a couple of story ideas in her shiny blond-colored head, but they're germinating.
This is funny b/c the same is true with me. My poem Diabetes and The Bike came to me while riding my stationery bike but I was nervous, as I always am, about writing a poem I'm happy with. It came out better than I expected.
I told the group that the most important thing I do all week is to write a poem. Martha, I think that astonished you. Carly you probably feel the same way, right?
Short stories are much easier for me to write than a poem.
Linda always spots me when I try to shoot a candid shot of her. She perks right up and always takes a great foto.
Her poem Lobsters is so good I want it for the Compass, which she pronounces COMpass.
OMG! You have no idea how hungry I am. At the Giant, I ate the most delicious
tapioca. We used to eat it as kids.
Unfortunately, by eating two containers my sugar shot up to 165, so I'm sitting blogging, waiting for it to come down, and then I'll eat my lima bean soup which is in the slow-cooker.
I burned the first batch and sat the burned pot out on a pile of wet leaves on the deck. The house stunk!
Donna read a poem called Andrew's Plight about a homeless man who takes shelter on a train. Donna said she thinks a lot about homeless people. Linda said she does too.
I asked when they last saw homeless people. The Upper Moreland Library has a few, as does the very same Giant where we meet.
After the meeting, I went to Van's Jeweler in Hatboro. Last week I brought in a b'ful bracelet of Venetian beads my niece gave me for my birfday. For only $10, Mr Van, who is from LAOS, transferred the beads to an elastic band so I can easily put it on and off.
What a terrible photo!
That's better, Ruthie!
But I do want you to look at the one-cup coffeemaker that my sister Ellen gave me when I went over after the group.
It's made by BODEN, and says Made in Denmark on the glass carafe. I am ecstatic! My first Danish-owned object.
My mom kindly gave me some coffee filters for when I brew my coffee. My sister Donna has provided me with enough coffee so that I won't fall asleep for seven years.
So I went upstairs with mom and we spent two hours going over her papers.
Here's mom now. We had a frank talk about when she's no longer here, what we should do. I was shocked she has no burial insurance b/c she always told me to get mine own, which I'll never do.
She showed me various files which I'll need to know about and also let me have several old-time photos she's now able to part with
Gramma Zali. My name is Ruth Zali Greenwold Deming. Zali is mom's grandmother. Jews name their children after deceased relatives.
Dad was a Marine during WWII. Here's his carte d'identite and mom's also. Oh-oh, hers expired in Sept, 1945. Wonder if we can renew it.
For my millions of fans out there, I was born in Camp Lejeune, North Carolina. I'm really in a chatty mood now but must stop myself... I was gonna say that in elementary school I would do state reports on North Carolina, the Tarheal State. Luther Hodges was the govnah!
Told the group I'm working on a short story where the female lead is gonna kill someone, but the author of said story has no idea who she'll knock off.
They reminded me that last week I said I'd never killed anyone, but did intend to. My female characters have suffered rape and one poor woman was thrown overboard on a cruise ship and left to fend for herself. I left the ending open like in The Lady and The Tiger.
DIABETES AND THE
BIKE
Diabetes,
if not controlled,
is
a spreading cancer to
every
vital part of the human
organism
or even a cat or
floppy-tailed
dog
whose
owners hide the insulin pill
inside
what they call a “treat”
The
name “diabetes” sounds sweet
like
a playful nymph frolicking
in
the woods with Zeus, who will
trick
and capture and ravage her
all
the same, just as diabetes
will
get us
perhaps
it will ruin our eyesight
so
we can no longer read a book
or
comb our hair in the mirror
perhaps
it will bring heinous pain
to
the bottom of our feet
said
a friend who has painfully
trundled
off to the afterlife
Hedge
your bets, says I,
as
I climbs aboard my stationery bike
set
in front of the television whose
rabbit
ears quiver as it pulls in
news
from Japan
I
speed up my pedaling
as
we hear an “inside report”
on
the young babyfaced leader
of
Korea North who dwells
in
the land of Pyongang with
his
banditos who terrorize
the
land where mountains
hold
their breath and plan
to
topple them one day
Tired
of the eternal nonsense
I
blow my nose in what used to
be
a light-green T-shirt
and
switch channels
but
the charismatic leader
has
his hooks in me
and
I watch and with the
mountains,
plot his demise.
Won’t
be easy, but I think
we
can do it. Are people
killed
off in fairy tales?
Solomon
Grundy met his
demise
of unknown causes
on
a Sunday. Nuns pray
for
peace, I pray: Almighty,
send
down a multi-colored
balloon
and lure the gentleman
aboard,
we will take him to
a
kindergarten class, give him
drums
and a tambourine
to
amuse himself with
and
teach him to be a man.
Quick comment on Yellow Day: Oh, will you shut up, Ruthie! What are you, manic?
Anyway, I started a similar poem last week b/c the same yellow tinge filled the air. I wrote a very bad poem about it and it's one of very few poems - or maybe the only one - I've actually trashed.
Anyway, I started a similar poem last week b/c the same yellow tinge filled the air. I wrote a very bad poem about it and it's one of very few poems - or maybe the only one - I've actually trashed.
YELLOW DAY
On
the eleventh of January
I
awake to Yellow.
I
blink my bleary eyes
and
gaze from my
upstairs
window at what
seems
to be my street
but
you can never be sure
dementia
and parallel universes
and
doppelgangers makes
reality
an ever uncharted sea
Yellow
becomes the color
of
the sky today
the
air the grass and
the
toppled-over
nativity
scene across
the
street
if
ever there were an
apocalypse
this
is the perfect day
I
practice tumbling
over
and over like a
dizzy
acrobat
rehearsing
for the
next
brilliant move
of
Einstein’s world.
L
La Mariee by Marc Chagall.
I've always admired Donna Krause's beautifully polished nails. She does them herself! Perhaps that's what influenced me to get "my nails done."
As I wrote the poem, I think I discovered the underlying reason why I do so!
THE FLYING BRIDE:
OR WHY I WEAR NAIL POLISH
Dad
told me he liked plain
girls
like my unadorned mother
who
to this day, nails tinier than
mine,
wears no earrings and applies
lipstick
only
on
Thanksgiving while the
turkey
spews its juices
in
the oven
Hands
are for our own
private
viewing
others
may look if they
choose
I
let a nail artist
have
her way with me
an
artwork I can see
the
moment I wake up
before
I greet the sky
Each
time I go
Another
color I try
like
painting the kitchen
new
colors every day
Green
for the kitchen
not
for the nails
Shades
of red my favorite
not
too red, you know,
no
bullfights or toreadores
for
me
A
nice airbrush of pink
the
color of Chagall’s
Mariee
- the flying bride’s dress.
Smooth
too when you rub
the
nails against your lips
I
wonder if I shall do that
I'm sorry that I missed the meeting. I was having some health issues. Hope to see you all next time
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