Monthly Archives: June 2024
Big Bands and Crooners
Trombone sliding around trumpets
Ole blue eyes and Crosby balladering
Loudly enough on the hi-fi to be heard in the kitchen
Cinnamon and nutmeg joined in chorus
Butter whipped with rich brown sugar
Sunshine egg yolks breaking out of their shell
Clouds of flour rising with surprised impudence
and vanilla competing with cocoa
(depending on the recipe)
Blended, folded, mixed, stirred
always in time to the metranome of music
Oven preheated, we hand our offerings into its maw
Patience.
All dishes are washed. All surfaces cleaned.
Attend to the hopeful gifts being transformed
Dusting, vacuuming, beds long made
Wait while the trumpet solo reaches cresendo
Patience.
With the ring of the timer, we engage our success
while Big Bands and Crooners celebrate with us
Pass it onward!
Hero’s Quest
Moonlight ignites the open shore
Heroic lives are no more
Ballads sung of victories won
will mist away in morning sun
Still, the waves continue on
The sword declaring, “It is done.”
Forgetful kisses of water and sand
Corpses recovered to the land
Formidible fortress now is silent
Peace ironic after the violence.
Pass it onward!
Groundhog Day
The atmosphere is filled with fear
While the scythe swings deathly near
Labored breathing, barely there
Scars of battles warn: Beware!
The flies swarm round like vultures keening
Recycled life of profound meaning
The Otherwhere claims the tiny soul
Regret is mine for the life I stole
Pass it onward!
Soul Pool
Soul Pool
I have existed for eons before I was born
As a descendant of my womenfolk
Who have cradled me within their wombs
Nurturing my spirit they have always known
Just as I know them in my aging, dusty carcass
Animated by their tribal songs that lent me their breath
Extending their pneuma into my mortality
Anointing me with collective wisdom as my inheritance
Courage emblazoned like a scarlet letter;
ushered in with fiercest loyalty
Resilience bestowed as an endowment of hope
Strength of a champion intrinsically passed down
I am born again and again, basking in the immortality
Reveling in the joyful victories of lives well lived
Lamenting the horrors and pains that are birthed;
And rebirthed, and again
I am my mother’s eyes, my grandmother’s faith,
My great-grandmother’s charm,
my great-great-grandmother’s muscle memory
I am because of their willingness to grant me
This Soul Pool in which I float and swim
Pass it onward!
The Game
Life is playing a game without all the pieces
With each tick of privilege you chance increases
Starting out you may have an advantage
Because your parents may have somehow managed
to assemble the board, or the cards, or the tokens
Or maybe they’re too scarred, too scared, or too broken
Maybe you’re born with a mouthful of silver spoon
Or maybe you discovered your birthright roughhewn
Perhaps you’ve never known hunger or that some go unloved
Or it could be you’ve been neglected or boxed without gloves
Maybe your sweet sixteen was tender and kind
Or your mom’s gone to get high again, drunken, and blind
Maybe you’ve always known that college was the on the table
Or maybe you’re the living moral of Aesop’s fables
The game doesn’t end until your dying day
But while you’re alive, you’re required to play.
Assemble the pieces as best as you can
with the knowledge you glean from every human
Roll the dice whenever it’s possible
learn from your mistakes; your choices are not impossible
Have faith in your heart, remember oneself
This game ain’t for wimps, but it IS do-it-yourself
Pass it onward!
An Exception
We are taught all our lives that there are norms.
Ways to behave and how to perform
We’re punished if we color outside of the lines
cinching our spirits to fit the confines
removing authenticity, forcing conformity
but we’ve done a disservice in all its enormity
Take exception from those “laws”
Run around naked with all your flaws
Be who you are without any doubts
Experience the joy! Scream and shout!
You’re validly beautiful when you’re true to yourself
You weren’t made to be perfect, stored on a shelf.
You were meant to experience life at full throttle
To demonstrate to others, to be a role model
Life is too precious to indulge what society thinks
Be the exception to the world, not a lip-sync
Pass it onward!
TAMP: Abbie
She walks into a room in a hurricane of glittery animation
Energy pumping through her space
like air so rich it almost feels obscene
Pigpen from the Peanuts,
surrounded by dust,
has nothing on the confetti of joy
that explodes around her with distracted purpose
Sticky notes are posted everywhere
so she doesn’t forget, but
sometimes she does
When that happens,
she merely pauses before redirecting
her vision, her drive, her day
She is a tempest of radiant inspiration
enraptured in her creative personality
Pass it onward!
Discarded Poem
Every word was engrossingly sincere,
examined almost to the point of microscopic ingenuity
Thesaurus opened, riffled, reflected upon
A collagulation of themed ideas
distilled into a rhythmic chorus
whose intention was to spark
depths of emotion, connection, and understanding.
It was a labor of ultimate love, tenderness,
A hybrid beauty without flaws.
“It’s good. I like it.” He said flatly;
returning to the video game without pause.
Pass it onward!
TAMP: Sharon “Shern” Crane
A long, long time ago, I watched colored lights pass my studio window. Every night, they paraded across the parking lot of the apartment complex I lived in with my family. I decided I wanted to meet this alien.
A few evenings later, I had the great fortune to meet Miss Shern. (Her accent is very Tennessee which causes her to say my name like MAY-ore.) She and I got to talking about life, the universe, and everything becoming fast friends. She wore the battery operated Christmas lights so that people could see her as she walked her dog, Candy. Candy was a fat beagle who was well loved; sweet as could be.
As time passed, Miss Shern and I would commonly seek out each other’s company. She would come solve the problems of the world at my kitchen table with a good pot of coffee and sometimes some sweets.
A different friend of mine gifted me a feathery charm to hang over my doorway to keep evil spirits out.
After spending several hours with Miss Shern, she was heading out my door when the feather adornment caught her eye.
“What’s that for?” She asked.
“It’s to keep assholes out.” I replied without missing a beat.
“Does it work?” She prodded.
I looked her dead in the eye, “Apparently not.”
We laughed about that harder than we should have. We still tell that story.
She is the kind of person you could ask anything of, talk about anything with, and she has a clunky sort of grace that is truly sincere. She gives selflessly to various causes having served 30 years with the Red Cross (I think it’s more, but I’m pretty sure that’s the number), decades at The Holiday Bureau which supplements families with holiday decorations, gifts, and other such things. She raises money for gifting snacks and drinks for the Police, Fire, and EMS. She volunteers at warming centers in the winter time. She serves on the Oak Ridge Housing Authority Board.
She is quick to laugh. She explores the world with the wonder of a child and the wisdom of living. She’s an avid reader. She’s taken up caving and hiking. She goes to classes at The Oak Ridge Senior Center to expand her vast knowledge. She is impressive as a human.
I have a lot of favorite people, typically it’s for one reason or another, but she…she’s the whole enchilada. I adore her, her heart, her passions, her compassion, her emotional bumpy-bits, and her laugh. This world is a better place with her in it.
Mare Martell 