(Poem 173 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Girls’ luncheon at Cilantro Grill is fabulous, filling,
a lovely time with mother, daughter, granddaughter,
grandmother, great-grandmother, great-granddaughter,
future sister-in-law, daughter-in-law, mother-in-law.
Kalua pork, grilled pineapple, garlic edamame,
butter shrimp, macaroni salad, spam musubi,
tom yum, Pad Thai, basil fried rice, yellow curry,
deep fried red snapper, drunken noodles, tom kha.
@Home Studio – 173rd poem of the year
(Poem 172 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
A princess in a fitted gown
floats into the room sparkling
like stars in a dark night sky.
She is the dream vision of
every little girl who imagines
herself someday gracefully
gliding down a cathedral aisle.
The sheer veil ripples elegantly,
falling like light snow in quiet
drifts on her brunette locks.
Gentle turns, angled glances
at her beauty in the mirror,
loveliness draped in silk and lace.
@Home Studio – 172nd poem of the year
Runner ups for the Wedding Dress Event photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 171 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/QTg9tw https://gencraft.ai/p/oBhyHg https://gencraft.ai/p/jQ3tpi
Watermelon, strawberries, red sugar Kool-Aid,
fried catfish, hot links, barbecue, red velvet cake,
hibiscus tea, cornbread, greens, black eye peas,
strawberry shortcake, deviled eggs, mac and cheese,
potato salad, baked beans, strawberry pie,
sweet tea, coleslaw, and anything you can fry.
Families spending time together, off work for the day,
children at the splash pad, squealing as they play,
parades and floats, marching bands, music on blast,
celebration of freedom, remembrance of the past,
honoring the ancestors, lifting up the next generation,
supporting black businesses, praying for the nation.
@Home Studio – 171st poem of the year
Runner ups for the Juneteenth photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 170 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Bless your heart, you simple soul;
not a thought going on up there.
No light on in that attic of yours, or
maybe the light’s on, but nobody’s home.
You mean well, but you can’t help
it that you’re not playing with a
full deck of cards. Poor thing fell out
of the family tree and hit every branch
on the way down. It’s not your fault
you’re not the sharpest tool in the shed;
you’ve lost your marbles, you’re
off your rocker, and your elevator’s stuck
between two floors. You’re thick as a post,
rowing with one oar, a pickle short of a barrel.
There might be a leak in your think tank,
one prop short of a plane, and I’m afraid you might
have a few loose screws. You’re a few peas
short of a casserole, two sandwiches
shy of a picnic, a drink short of a 6-pack,
and can’t think your way out of a paper bag.
It’s ok that you’re silly as a goose,
as smart as bait, and don’t have all
the dots on your dice. You may not be firing
on all 6 cylinders, possibly running
about a quart low. You’re a few fries
short of a Happy Meal, and your cheese might
have slipped off your cracker, but I love it
when you come around because if I stand
close enough to you I can hear the ocean.
@Home Studio – 170th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Bless Your Heart photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 169 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
The conundrum of laundry is constant
with eight people in the house every day.
Someone will forget to clean the dryer vent,
and for that a lecture will come my way.
Some use scents to make their clothing smell nice,
while others prefer unscented and pure.
Three different soaps add up to quite a price,
but it is worth it for peace, I am sure.
Sometimes a person forgets to unload
their washer or dryer causing dismay,
as others in line now find their turn slowed
and possibly pushed to another day.
Eventually, all laundry gets done;
clean clothes is the victory we have won.
@Home Studio – 169th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Laundry photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 168 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/pnxfq2 https://gencraft.ai/p/oNLuGd https://gencraft.ai/p/TJyDtD
Four hunters arrive,
traversing a post-
apocalyptic scene
in feudal Japan.
Their stealth persists
until an enemy Oni
raises an alarm and
the hunters become
the hunted once again.
Each battle, skirmish,
and moment of hand-
to-hand combat brings
them closer to the
arrival of the boss,
a demon monster,
one of many unleashed
by The Cataclysm.
All that waits to be
seen, is who will be
the last one standing.
@Home Studio – 168th poem of the year (after playing with David, Lydia, and Charlotte)
Runner ups for the Hametsu photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 167 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Maybe a turtle is in a turtle shell
much the way mice are in fur coats,
eels wear slick high-sheen leather,
and monsters live in skins of goats.
Stubborn dinosaurs wear emu feathers,
and goddess cats are draped in fluff.
Humans must don these hot meat suits,
while armadillos carry armor that’s rough.
Porcupines live inside costumes with spears
to protect like whales with the thickest skin.
It makes me wonder if the being we see
could be different from the soul within.
@Home Studio – 167th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Turtle photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 166 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
I found a bag of iced
Christmas pretzels
with sprinkles in the
back of the pantry.
Seeing as it is June,
they are a bit past
their prime freshness.
Craving a sweet but
unwilling to make a
treat from scratch,
I decided to give one
a taste, just a tiny
tentative baby nibble.
Huh…not bad…fresh
like a time capsule
of Christmas past.
@Home Studio – 166th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Christmas Pretzels photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 165 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
My cats have a piano.
They let me play it
once in a while when
I get the notion, but
mostly they sleep and
purr, and stretch on the
multiple flat surfaces
purely built for perching.
@Home Studio – 165th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Cat Piano photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 164 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
I am so sorry, sweet Kura,
for being a bad steward.
I am treading water and
barely staying afloat.
Between trying to keep
people, dogs, cats, plants,
and an opossum alive,
none can really thrive,
certainly not me and,
obviously, not you.
I am guilty of neglect,
and you deserve better.
I already spoke with your
former caretaker, and she
has agreed to nurse you
back to health, I only
hope it is not too late.
@Home Studio on 6/18/24 @ 10:37pm – 164th poem of the year
rebekahjmarshall 