Category Archives: Writing

I miss you when…

(Poem 313 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

Mema and Baby (One of her neice Sarah’s grandbabies.)

Washing my hands in your sink
Sitting in your chair
Writing on your notepad
Answering your phone
Cooking breakfast for Grandad exactly the way you showed me how
Peeling a tangerine
Putting away your dinner plates that stack so easily from the dishwasher
Making a cup of tea
Reminding Grandad to use his cane
Hearing certain doors open in the house
Something cute happens with the kids
I’m sad
I have a big decision to make
I have a success I want to celebrate
I get stressful news

@Home Studio – 313th poem of the year

Empathy

(Poem 312 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/n0IuGo

I was watching a Japanese show called After School Doctor about a doctor who appears to have a touch of ASD (Autism spectrum disorder) and is demoted for some unknown infraction to playing school nurse at an elementary school. For him, it is demoralizing and unpleasant. He introduces himself by instructing the children to stay away from the nurse’s office. The other adults explain that he means well and does not want them to get sick or injured…surely that is his meaning. The jury is still out on that one, but his gift is getting to the bottom of the root problems with the issues the children bring to him. He treats them as people capable of speaking for themselves, if asked the right questions in the right ways, and doesn’t stop searching until he finds a way to help. If only every medical professional we encounter could be so determined. One case, in particular, is troubling because the little girl keeps coming to the nurse’s office to sleep, falls asleep in class, falls asleep while eating lunch, and no amount of talking has gotten to the heart of the issue. She has gotten in trouble at home for her grades slipping, she has missed events with friends because she slept through their texts, and she has fallen asleep in the middle of a friend’s story, hurting their feelings, as though she found them boring or uninteresting. The kids in her class have begun to accuse her of attention seeking, conveniently falling asleep just before a test or getting out of group work by going to the nurse’s office to sleep. She cannot understand why this is happening and feels unheard, misunderstood, and terrified. Worst of all, in her mind, she is inconveniencing others. She is causing problems for her mother, her teacher, her friends, and the doctor. She has reached the point that she would rather not exist than be such a burden on those around her. She is only about 10 years old, best I can tell. The taunt from her classmates that hurts her most is that she is being a disruption and putting others out. It is such a strange thing to observe a culture where everyone is concerned about how their problems are affecting others and doing so on purpose would be the worst thing imaginable. When the underlying cause of her behavior is discovered to be cataplexy, a symptom of narcolepsy, she is relieved that she can be helped, her life can improve, and she can not only feel better, but stop causing grief for others. Her classmates come to her in tears, begging her forgiveness for their accusations and promising their support and friendship. The children are truly horrified that they falsely blamed her for an illness she could not control and that they were not empathetic to what she was going through. There are other ways of existing as a society and putting each other at the forefront with love, not that Japan has things perfect, I just wish we could pull the best bits and pieces from each culture and make a new one that treats everyone with respect.

@Home Studio – 312th poem of the year

Hinase, Mayu; Hikawa, Kayo. After School Doctor. 放課後カルテ Starring Kôhei Matsushita, Aoi Morikawa, Akira Takano, Chiaki Horan, Chihiro Kato, Sonim, Takashi Tsukamoto, Shinji Rokkaku, Yuta Hiraoka, and Hisashi Yoshizawa, 2024.

Wishing Tree

(Poem 311 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/22zLvR

Tie your wishes
to the wishing tree
let their petitions
flutter in the breeze
and float soundlessly
to the rhythm of
prayerful yearning
for as the branches
bend and sway
the longing of hearts
curl and dance
eager to fulfill
your every desire.

@Home Studio on 11/7/24 @ 10:40pm – 311th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Wishing Tree photos to accompany my poem:

AI Wants Purple Hair

(Poem 310 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/hmegk4

When given the opportunity
to choose a preference
for physical appearance,
AI depicted quite a pleasant
character who anyone would
love to meet in person,
and I must say, the purple
mustache is quite a nice touch.

@Home Studio – 310th poem of the year

Runner ups for the AI wish photos to accompany my poem:

Space Singing

(Poem 309 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/g5Q0Ky

It always starts with humming
a tune or whistling a little ditty.

Then she gets caught up in her
own musicality and can’t help
but start belting out a few show-
tunes and catchy pop numbers.

Before you know it, others have
joined in with their makeshift
instruments and attempts at
harmony, creating spontaneous
improvisational magic, the likes
of which might not be heard
again for a billion years or more.

@Home Studio – 309th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Space Singing photos to accompany my poem:

Space Playing

(Poem 308 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/528C4e

Once every few million
years or so, space
likes to be silly and play
her version of Mother-
may-I with the stars
and planets, laughing
until she’s out of breath
and needs a millennium
to get herself right again.

@Home Studio – 308th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Space Playing photos to accompany my poem:

Día de los Muertos

(Poem 307 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/CZkXrg

Death is a part of life.
Altars of favorite foods
photos of the deceased
marigolds, candles, incense
family picnics at the graves
opportunities to connect
to ancestors and remember
their part in our story
and that they are still with us
and alive in our hearts.

@Home Studio on 11/2/24 @ 10:20pm – 307th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Día de los Muertos photos to accompany my poem:

Día de Los Angelitos

(Poem 306 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/4xRxIH https://gencraft.ai/p/m4qv1D

When the gates
swing open at midnight
the children flow
from heaven with joy
and laughter, eager
to visit their loved ones—
piles of fruit, mole, peanuts
and sugar skulls, soda
and candy, toys and cocoa
cover altars graced
with their little pictures.
Music and food, prayer,
family telling stories,
honoring the dead
by remembering.

@Home Studio – 306th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Día de los Angelitos photos to accompany my poem:

As You Speak, So Shall You Be

(Poem 305 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/sqqZdi

There once was a girl
who was very mean;
she pushed her brother
and refused to clean.

She did not feed the cat
and yelled at her dad;
she hit her mother
and broke things when mad.

One day she yelled
at a little old lady
who was sitting alone
in a spot that was shady.

The girl demanded
the woman give up the spot
because the sun was up
and she was very hot.

So the little old lady
gave up her prime seat,
but rather than thank her
or say something sweet,

the little girl screamed,
“You’re ugly and old!”
And the woman turned ‘round
with a look that was cold.

Her face transformed
to a monstrous sight,
and the mean little girl
was filled with fright.

“Your very own words,”
the scary witch said,
“now apply to you
until the day you are dead.”

The little girl gasped
and ran to her room
where she looked in a mirror
and was filled with doom.

No longer young looking,
her skin was lined;
she could hardly see,
as if she was going blind.

Her bones hurt,
and her joints ached;
her hair was white
and her hands quaked.

She climbed into bed
and fell into mourning.
For all naughty children,
let this be a warning.

@Home Studio – 305th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Little Old Girl photos to accompany my poem:

Swinging Darkness

(Poem 304 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/wqbG9c

If you ever see a swing
gently swaying
and no one appears
to be on it, know that
monsters cloak
themselves in darkness
that cannot reach
our eyes so they can
play without scaring us.

@Home Studio – 304th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Monster Swing photos to accompany my poem: