Thursday, April 6, 2017

Pouring outside right now! Poems: Max's Fourth B'day - The Boys on West Street Road - Coffee for Breakfast - The Boys on West Street Road

When I looked out my front door, two garbage cans - one blue - were rolling down the rivulet that was the rain.

Was gonna go to my Writers' Group at 2:30 pm but changed my mind.

Image result for south of broadI had called earlier and told Brandy I might not be there since I didn't like the book.

Am guessing most of the group is there. I emailed Elaine and Alan that my short story The Day Trip had been published. It was based on their lives.

Read it here.

The lights flicker occasionally.

Did I share my poem about Max's fourth birthday?

He was born on April 1, the same day as my kidney transplant. Sarah and I just celebrated our sixth anniversary. 


When I went outside to the
Compost Heap today a
strange sight greeted
Bubby's eyes.

Would you believe a
tea party was being
held right in the
middle of the morning!

A ground hog sat straight up
and drank from half an
avocado shell! "Nice
rain water," he mumbled.

Smokey, the fat wild cat
munched on aspargus stems
with a purr of gratitude

Brown eggs, laid by
hens in pastures richer
and greener than in
County Cork, were
scattered about

A baby deer with sweet
brown eyes licked up
the egg shells, good
for her growing bones

And Bubby almost tripped
when she saw six tiny
little foxes run up
from the gully and sit
at the grassy table

"He's coming," one of them
whispered. "He'll be here

"Who?" purred the cat.

"The birthday boy, you silly."

Sure enough, as we all watched
a crescent moon slowly floated
over the Compost Host, and
Master Max waved and blew
kisses to everyone there.

"I brought my own food," he
said with a laugh.

Smokey, the fat wild cat, patted
a place next to him, where Max
plunked himself down.

Soon Max's four-year-old cheeks
were filled with his favorite
food in all the world:
golden-fried chicken nuggets.


After I left my accountant's office yesterday, I felt so good I wrote a poem about the experience.


They could be a rock band
LaDonna introduces them
and out they step, while
a candle flickers in the wind

Four boys who couldn't look
more different - Macrone with
his one-arm tattooed, McGuffin
with his "Afflicted" T-shirt
stretched like ship sails
across his chest
and head honcho Quinones who sways with
a Latino beat and mouths
kisses to the audience

Don't mind telling you
I'm a groupie. They make
me feel good when I'm

Tea? Sure I'll have some
LaDonna. It's sweet like
all the fellas there. I
bat my eyelashes and when
I leave I treat myself to
Altamonte's spaghetti and
meatballs, the best around
like my Fabulous Accountants!


Today on FB I wrote a poem about Coffee.


I'm addicted to Thin Mints
- thanks Bella! - Shortbread
Cookies from Altamonte's,
Fresh OJ with the green cap,
and Chocolate Rice Cakes,
no generic, only Quaker
will do. 

The one thing I refuse to be
addicted to is Fresh Coffee,
made in my womanly-shaped

Drink it every other day.
Haven't made it yet, but
can smell it brewing in
the kitchen. A nice strong
Rum Coffee will do me just fine.

Can you see me in Nepal, the
place of a megaquake? Buried
beneath my home where I earn
my living making aprons?
I hear their voices as they
dig me out. "Quickly!" I shout!
"Quickly!" But don't say,
I need my first cup of
coffee for the day.
Otherwise Life is not
worth living.


Many years ago when I had a yellow Stangl drip coffeemaker

Image result for yellow stangl drip coffee maker  Like this, only sun-yellow!

I had given up coffee for about ten days.

You can't imagine how depressed I was.

Suddenly I had an idea!

Image result for woman drinking coffee   It was like a light switch turned on. All my cares disappeared and I felt fine!

I never drank that cuppa coffee cuz I've been too busy to brew it.

Also took a short nap while listening to Brahms First Symphony on WRTI. Me thought it was Brahms Variation on a Theme by Haydn.


At last, my short story Kafka's Other Woman will be published by Quail Bell.

Hey, I didn't realize they published one of my favorite poems FRANKIE'S GIRL. It's absy true.


As I kid, what dyou think it meant?

God disapproving of something we did, Scott's dog Spanky ran under the bed shaking.

When I submitted Kafka's Other Woman to Quail Bell, one of the editors, Ren, thought my name was Ruth Z Fleming.

I corrected him saying he got me confused for the voluptuous Rhonda Fleming.

Rhonda Fleming - publicity.JPG

She's still alive at 93.

Then I wrote back saying, Will the real Ruth Z Deming please stand up?

Image result for ruth deming photo
What are YOU gonna do now, Dear Reader?

I'm gonna watch The Film FAUST, which Rem recommended, on YouTube. Rem Murphy speaks perfect German as he took it in college.

I'm actually watching the wrong film, but it's quite good. Silent film made in 1926.


I would sleep thru this film and when I awoke the rain had stopped and it's gorgeous outside!

Many of the actors in the film ended up in Hollywood.

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