Saturday Writers Group - My poem: Parnate

 Lotsa people. Thanks again, Fernando, for the great food.

 B's son, Steven, was in Portland ME at a comic book convention. He drove to Boston where he picked up some friends and they drove up.

Donna felt and looked great. The day before she was discharged from the Abington psych ward. Shared a couple of excellent poems with us.

My Sweet Brittany was about her 2-yo granddaughter. Whenever she sees "Nonna," she asks loads of questions. Where do you live. What do you do? How old are you? Are you gonna die?

Her son, she says, is a really good father.

She also wrote a poem about depression with the line "a long black veil of tears." 

REM, above, read anudder couple chapters of his book. Much was based on reality between he and his late wife Valerie. They had the same Rx of eyeglasses. If he loses his reading glasses, he'll put hers on.

We came from the same alien spaceship, he says seriously.

BTW, I saw Rem earlier today when I was driving to the kids' house. I pulled into the parking lot of his tall apartment house in Abington, right along Edge Hill Road. It was called Brookside or something like that. He has a great view from his apartment on the top floor.

Great that he appreciates it.  Many people do not.

Here's how he started off Chapter 30: Are You Receiving Me? Remember, all his chapter titles are named after songs.

It's done by Golden Earring - a Dutch band - as was Radar Love. 

First line:  A load of caffeine was in his belly. Coke, Mountain Dew, Pepsi.

He's a great reader and makes us laff.

 I had two pieces of Fernando's meat pie.

 Allan continued with his novel, adding a really neat character - The Teeterhopper - a tiny fellow who, to our great dismay, is stomped upon and killed.

Many of the names of his creatures are gotten from his days of playing Dungeons and Dragons. My kids also loved the games, which is why my son named his two children Barbarian and Druid. His wife however vetoed it.

A new character Satirica was riding on a fast-flying reptile.

Satirica was a woman he'd talked to on the phone about some problem he was having. So it's a real name.

Martha, who left early, had brought Beatriz these gifts. B said she wanted to give herself some gifts, so why not coffee cups and matching dishes?

 Marf read the first chapter of her new romance novel. A naive young woman is pounced upon by an older Russian man, who falls madly in love with her.

Very descriptive but where are the sex scenes, I asked.

Oh, they're there, she said.

We discussed briefly that submitting a ms.  to a potential publisher or agent is every bit as difficult as writing your piece.

I had this guy help me do a query letter. Richard Bank. He charges, but it was worth it.

Her main character is Nikki, short for Nicole, which reminds me of something. Before the rains today, Scott and I walked on Creek Road of the Pennypack Trust. A new bench was put out there, in memory of Nicole Rhoads Peppelman. Let's look her up now.

Oh, shit. Wait'll you read this.

Oh, there's Marf on the couch, and me in this dress I've worn four days in a row.

Linda Barrett read a chapter from her fantasy novel. Well-done, but there's a lil too much going on, too soon. She also wrote some poems. She always presents her fiction to the Hatboro writing group, as well. Gotta ask her why she do dat.

Okay, now I gotta find my poem Parnate. Oh, here it comes. It's floating down the stairs from my upstairs computer to the downstairs.

For godssakes, don't trip.

Here's Parnate which I keep revising.

What dyou think?


PARNATE

The researchers at
Smith, Kline and French
were heartened by the
action of a new antidepressant
called Parnate.

Looks like a miniature
pink pillow, thought Ed,
as he took it with a
glass of cold water
from the refrigerator
with the water dispenser
on the outside.

An old drug with
eating restrictions – no
aged cheeses or the
red wine he loved –
he thanked Jesus
for the wisdom
of his psychiatrist.

Ed had everything. A wife
who snuggled up to him
in bed, faith in God, friends
he played golf with, and a
house full of antique
furniture that shone
like gold.

Retired now, he made
thousands by painting
people’s bedrooms or
front porches with CVS
lawn chairs at the ready. 

Ed was a “color man.” An
expert. He would take
Sharon’s face in his
hands and say, Your
color blonde is perfect
for you, my darling.

Ed had taken them all.
Lamictal, Effexor, Seroquel,
Luvox, lithium, Wellbutrin.
His insides were dead. Hollow.
Rotting. Stinking like rotting
fish. Or garbage.

He sat out on his front porch
in one of those white CVS
lawn chairs you see everywhere,
patted his stomach, no, kneaded
his stomach, and said to no one
in particular,

If this Parnate don’t work,
don’t try to find me. I’ll be somewhere,
but you’ll never know where.
Some day my body will
rise to the top, like cream,
floating like a mattress
down the Delaware.