Sunday, November 20, 2016

Just another Saturday - Poem: Four Hours Sleep - Poem: The Man in the Other Room

Went to bed last night thinking I'd turned the heat down to 65, which makes the house quite cold.

Instead, I'd had the heat OFF all day b/c of the warm weather.

When I came downstairs it was freezing inside.... 58. The heat's kicking in right now, this Sunday morning.

Looks like a lovely day despite dire warnings by the weather folk.

OH! Almost forgot.

Beatriz, Rem and I met at  her condo for our Writers Group.

I was late as I met "Laurie" for lunch at the T N T  Diner in Hatboro. Does that gal love to talk!

She voted for Trump b/c he's pro life. I told this to Beatriz who said, Wait'll she sees what he does to the environment, as Laurie and her family are huge nature lovers. She's visited Alaska several times to see the grizzlies. And also Merrill Creek.

Beatriz brought a piece about pollinators. She told us there have been six major extinctions this century including Frogs. Her late husband was a herpetologist and had discovered a new species of frogs, which was his specialty.

His son discovered one right on their land in Argentina. Dad named it after the son. That son, now 88, is coming to visit B in a month. He's a world-traveler!

Rem read another chapter of his novel. Laff-aloud humor.

I read a story I composed in an hour, before I went to meet Laurie at the diner.

A Dog's Tale, I called it. Written from the perspective of the Myers' dog Kalie from across the street. Told from Sabrina - the dog's - point of view, and using real details that the Myers shared with me, the dog begins to plot about escaping forever.

Teens do this. I did. Did you?

In reality, some do and end up homeless on the street and eventually ... well, you know what happens.


Didn't think I'd like
the movie much - too
gruesome, I thought,
too much like Stephen
"the master" King

It was Netflix newest
Paranoia, a bit of blood
in the beginning, but
then the mystery began

Our hero, Bobby, was a
drug addict, panic attacks
had him taking more and
more prescription pills

We know what that's like!

Each 40-minute episode
had me wanting more
I munched on my peanuts
instead of chewing my

One episode ended, another
began. As Bobby was determined
to find the killers, I was
determined to watch till
the end.

The bitter end.
The satisfying end.
The shocking end.

Then rolled over on
red couch and
slept and slept and slept.


Pulled by mysterious forces from
my nighttime bed
I sleepily descend the stair
open the front door
and peek as a stranger
into the dark night.

A misty, charcoal world
lay before me
no moon
no stars
was this the earth I knew so well?

Two houses like cardboard cutouts
grinned at me from
across the street
windows dark
tilting slightly toward the other.

Had they just landed?
Were they sturdy or
in imminent danger of

Did they see me or
have any regard for me?

I closed the door.
Then opened it again.
They hadn’t left.
Was it my imagination or
did I hear them laughing
under the cloudless sky?



Orange peels - eggshells - purple rubber bands
blood-soaked Band-aids - stinkbugs in napkins

I shall miss you
plop you
with a thud
in the garbage can
the truck will pick you up tomorrow
grind you to bits while I sleep
   unlike father and brother whose bodies
   decompose with the worms and the grubs
you shall live forever
vying for superiority in the landfill

Will you come alive?
will you pull apart and swarm with the microbes
who love you so?
o dwellers of the underground
Let Orpheus sing his song for you
and Christ set you free on Judgment Day.



Dedicated to Bella of Troop 7063, Willow Grove, PA, USA

I hear him snoring in his favorite chair
my husband, the professor, with
his long snowy-white beard

We met at a pub in
Philadelphia, each sipping a
beer. He took my hand
and said, "O nameless woman
I aim to marry thee. Dreamt
about you only yestereday, in your
pink and purple scarf that frames
your cheerful face just so."

Sixty years went by.
Children, grandchildren
Book shelves filled with
books lined up from A to Z.
Julie Child cookbooks,
bios of presidents,
my slender volumes of poetry
his four tomes of ancient

Never dreaming that we too
would get ancient, memories
dim as fading stars at twilight.

I hear him awake from the
next room, fumbles around,
then, "Darling Mary! I've
bought you a Valentine gift."

Stutz Candy? The
Whitman Sampler? But, no,
this man of mine, wearing
his polka-dot pajamas, shuffles
into the living room bearing
a box of Girl Scout Cookies,
Thin Mints, we will share over
a glass of wine.

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