You are an Audio Book

May 23, 2024 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

(Poem 133 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/4TW5sw

You are not the kind of book with
a slick jacket I can collect on my shelf;
nor can I mark my place with sticky notes,
gum wrappers,
or old receipts.

You are an audio book with raucous
laughter, one-liner quips of witty dialogue,
random philosophical musings about religion,
and societies
latest great failings.

Sometimes I need to slow the playback
speed and crank up the volume to discern
the subtle nuances of your narration and tune
my ear to
your frequency.

Other times I realize you’re on full
blast in the middle of a raunchy scene in
public rather than coming through my headphones
like a
gentleman.

@Home Studio – 133^rd poem of the year

Poetry, Writing

Beaver Nuggets

May 20, 2024 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

(Poem 132 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

https://images.app.goo.gl/RTg8GzH1tyoPR3gW7

When my husband stops at Bucee’s
on road trips, he always brings me
home Beaver Nuggets, the sea-salted
caramel kind that I love so much.
I have told him many times not to
get them for me because they are
too fattening, but he knows better
than to listen to me when I say silly
things like that and buys them anyway.
Come to think of it, I’m shaped a bit like
Bucee the fluffy beaver, so I wonder if
his stuffing is beaver nuggets like mine.

@Home Studio – 132^nd poem of the year

Poetry, Writing

Bath Salts

May 20, 2024 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

(Poem 131 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

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

My granddaughter left a gift
of lavender bath salts for me
on my desk with a sweet little
message written in half cursive
half print on a sticky note.
She left one for her DāDā,
and probably everyone else
in the house as well, because
she loves to leave treats for
others when she finds a way.
I am glad my prickly, lovely,
argumentative, emotional,
explosive, beautiful, forgetful
girl has a heart full of love.

@Home Studio – 131^st poem of the year

Poetry, Writing

War

May 19, 2024 rebekahjmarshall 2 Comments

(Poem 130 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/0yYZ6p

“Vengeance is mine,” sayeth Ceasar, until his
apemanity kicks in and he is able to be better
than human and allow mercy to unfold naturally.
Who gets to determine the value of a life on
this rock hurtling through space we call home?
Does intellect trump simple existence or one
form of communication imply worth over another?
Is birdsong less a language than human speech
or an elephant’s rumble less valid than words?
Someone I know once said their life would not
be affected by animals going extinct and it
made me sad because I believe the tiny pieces
of our humanity that perish with each species
we forget to save hasten our own souls’ decay.

@Home Studio (after watching War for the Planet of the Apes at Greg’s house with Greg and his family, Debbie, and Celinda on 5/18/24) – 130^th poem of the year

Matt Reeves et al., War for the Planet of the Apes. Los Angeles, CA, 20th Century Fox Home Entertainment, 2017.

Runner ups for the War of Apes photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

New York David

May 19, 2024 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

(Poem 129 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

New York David is decisive.
He attends business meetings
and lunches with clients and
visits rose gardens simply to
see the sights as a tourist.
New York David stays in hotels
and spends evenings at bars
being someone’s wingman.
He’s an expert in a field I do
not fully understand the
particulars of, nor do I want
to invest the energy to
understand because life is
too short…all I know is that
New York David has planes to
catch and important matters
to settle and will be home
Thursday with his suitcase
and weariness ready to
turn back into Texas David who
lounges in pajamas at home
with his wife and dogs.

@Home Studio – 129^th poem of the year

Poetry, Writing

Prescription Refills

May 19, 2024 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

(Poem 128 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/mFTsj4

One, two, three…maybe four
prescriptions need to be filled
because I grow old and less
able to take pride in health
and vigor like I used to, as though
I somehow earned the youthful
ease with which my joints bent,
and my muscles contracted
instantly, and every sinew
responded to my whim with
instant graceful movement;
those people who complained
of aches and stiffness were
somehow at fault for their
functional inadequacies and
I did not recognize my future
reflection in their eyes because
that woman’s lined face was
contorted with pain.

@Greg’s house – 128^th poem of the year

Poetry, Writing

Fall Guy

May 10, 2024 rebekahjmarshall 5 Comments

(Poem 127 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://search.app.goo.gl/xryzdbP

Jump off a building,
hang out of a plane,
get shot from a cannon;
it sounds insane.
The unknown people
who pull the stunts
deserve to receive
the credit for once.
They make the actors
look like heroes for real
with dangerous magic
and feats surreal.
All the risk,
none of the fame,
light them on fire
to play the game.

@Home Studio (after watching The Fall Guy with David, Boaz, and Ariel at the theater) – 127^th poem of the year

Leitch, David. The Fall Guy. 87 North Productions, 2024.

Poetry, Writing

The Writing Barn

May 5, 2024 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

(Poem 126 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

Photograph I took from inside Buddha Hall at The Writing Barn on 5/5/24.

The oak trees stand guard,
keeping bothersome reality
at bay, ensuring sanctuary
for these tireless artists of
word and story, providing
respite from judgment long
enough for imagination to
begin the process of creative
unfolding, for that is the
only way the art is born
fresh and raw, unfiltered.
Yes, the work of shaping,
peeling, whittling away the
excess will be done to perfect
and sculpt the mass into
something more palatable,
but the first bloody moments of
pain and relief, joy and confusion,
brilliant bursts of kaleidoscopic
invention spilled out into the
universe deserve to be protected.
The oak trees understand
their assignment and take their
oaths very seriously, and for
their loyalty, I am grateful.

@The Writing Barn: Buddha Hall – 126^th poem of the year

Photograph I took in Buddha Hall at The Writing Barn on 5/5/24.

Poetry, Writing

Dawn

May 5, 2024 rebekahjmarshall 2 Comments

(Poem 125 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

https://images.app.goo.gl/6BLWxqvW9d4QE3KFA

https://images.app.goo.gl/ahg7Hp6fL6rBMCc68

There always seems to be someone who hates,
whose resentment fills their soul until nothing
else can fit and the surrounding world must pay.
Everyone who endures suffering must decide
whether to heal or hurt, a weighty choice, for it
affects the fate of your trajectory henceforward.
In matters of the heart, as in matters of state,
humanity should remain centered in our judgment,
and the resulting actions must be measured
carefully to create the least harm to all involved.

@The Writing Barn: Buddha Hall (after watching Dawn of the Planet of the Apes at Greg’s house with Greg and his family, Debbie, Celinda, and David on 5/4/24) – 125^th poem of the year

Reeves, Matt, et al. Dawn of the Planet of the Apes 20th Century Fox, 2014.

Poetry, Writing

Rise

May 5, 2024 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

(Poem 124 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

https://images.app.goo.gl/wJTsFk2Qgnv5pQiQ6

Anyone who has ever parented a surly teen or
held a baby and felt their entire dependence as
your responsibility can relate to the poignant family
dynamic scenes in Rise of the Planet of the Apes.
Caesar’s coming of age trauma hurts us mothers
and fathers because we watch our own babies
suffer the slings and arrows of this world unprotected.
No matter our desire to rescue them from the pain
of growth, the journey is theirs and theirs alone.
If only the world could be a softer place for our
children, but alas, we must limp along and support
each other, for “alone…weak. Together…strong.”

@The Writing Barn: Buddha Hall (after watching Rise of the Planet of the Apes at Greg’s house with Greg and his family, Debbie, Celinda, and David on 5/4/24) – 124^th poem of the year

Rupert Wyatt, et al., Rise of the Planet of the Apes, Beverly Hills, CA, 20th Century Fox Home Entertainment, 2011.