Writers' Group - Another Round of Coffee and Tea - Poem: Fronts Sheered Off

Why, you ask, was I up until four in the morning?

Blogging.

"Blogger" refused to 'publish' my blog post. It was in a state of suspended motion. Up to bed I'd go, exhausted, sleep a while, then jolt awake and come downstairs to see if it would 'publish.'

I wrote four blog posts, every one of them expunged.

I have every confidence, said Ruth Obama Deming, that we will be successful now.

The morning of the writers' group I attended the two-hour talk of Holocaust survivor David Tuck. See previous post.

The above mementos were passed out in the audience. It's a photograf, signed by David.

When I got home I had to shift gears and think of something to write. Finally, it came to me. Revise Fronts Sheered Off. I did.

Hello Martha! Enjoyed your two poems. One was "Halloween at Daycare" where the kids enjoyed the two Cs: candy and costumes.

Her other poem is about all the friends she's lucky enough to have. The first one was our own Allan Heller, poet laureate of Hatboro, and author of fascinating books about cemeteries.

Allan attended the group and received our accolades from his Thursday nite reading at Hatboro Lib.

Photo by Hunter Studios.

Linda wrote "The Blond's Revenge" about a female CEO who wanted to kill one of her employees for being nasty to her. "She slammed her cartridge into her gun."

Linda, I've always been nice to you, haven't I? pleaded Ruthie.

Donna wrote a poem "Heart Sister" about a woman who also lost a child to meningitis. Shortly after Mariel died, there was a TV news item about another young woman who'd lost her life to the same disease. Donna called up the TV station and got the phone no. of the woman.

They've been friends ever since.



Carly wrote a short nonfiction piece called "The Anniversary Gift." Hmmm, wonder what that could be about. A diamond ring? A Porsche? A.... what? A death wish?

Yes, Carly wrote about the famous Brittany Maynard case, where a new bride was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer, and wanted to die with dignity. So she and her family moved from Los Angeles to a small town in Oregon, where physician-assisted suicide is legal.

Good story, Carly, told from the viewpoint of the 29-yo bride as well as her bridegroom.

The real Brittany ended her on Saturday, the day of our meeting.

I'm a member of Compassionate Choices and sent a donation to help with the expenses incurred by the Maynard family.

Beatriz wrote about aromatic Night Gardens. My friends, the Levines, of Southampton, had such a garden when Bobby was alive. Sensational!

I just checked the following book outa the lib

Wonderful! Told from the point of view of the bees. Quote by Karl von Frisch in the frontispiece. When I read that book as a teenager, I became passionate about bees and nature.

Beatriz, herself, pets bees, stroking their furry hide.

Okay, worker bees, drones and the Queen, I'm gonna put my poem in now and then press publish. Who shall I pray to that it works?

FRONTS SHEERED OFF

As I lie falling asleep at night

bedroom facing the street

I picture the walls of my

yellow house crumbling away.

Here I am revealed to all in

my striped pajamas

curled up on my side

books, reading glasses and

tissues strewn on the

husband’s side of the bed.

I lie under the tiger blanket

used by Father when he was

dying, a white feather comforter

atop that, an occasional duck

feather quacking its way out.

Noises are few. The furnace

clears its throat. The fridge

hums a Beethoven sonata

and the water dispenser on

the outside is lit up when I

enter the dark kitchen

like the Milky Way.

I sit up.

An unfamiliar noise. Is it

the intruder I’ve been

waiting for all my life?

I open the front door.

The stars pounce on me.

The bird houses quiver.

Barefoot, I step outside, feeling the

cold stone steps, littered

with autumn leaves.

I pick up a red maple and

press it to my mouth.

A star fallen to earth.