(Poem 213 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Doctor Dear,
Does your mommy know you’re here?
Did she pack you a lunch
and put bows in your hair?
Can you stay here this late,
or do you have a curfew?
Are you allowed to use those shiny tools,
or do you need adult supervision?
You have such a big vocabulary
for such a young lady.
Such gentle care,
Sweet Doctor Dear.
@Home Studio – 213th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Doctor Dear photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 177 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/03OiGx https://gencraft.ai/p/G96GID https://gencraft.ai/p/BbJsEh
Aches and pains
pains and aches
knees and hips
whatever it takes
hard to bend
walking is tough
getting off the
floor is enough
trying to focus
on a word
when agony strikes
is quite absurd
take deep breaths
slow your heart
please pace yourself
if you’re smart
not enough spoons
too many knives
push too hard
here come hives
snap pop crack
click rattle break
every slight movement
injury at stake
I would like
to cocoon here
or float in
space a year
to maybe be
from gravity free
that is now
my earnest plea
@Home Studio – 177th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Aches and Pains photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 138 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Is that a bullet hole there in
the drive thru menu board
at the McDonald’s off Mopac?
Maybe, maybe not, but what
does it say that my first thought
leans toward that being the case?
What is this world coming to?
is the thing older people say to
one another in these moments.
They shake their heads and
look at the ground, implying
life used to be less complicated.
When did I become them,
sucking my teeth in disbelief,
saying, As I live and breathe?
@Home Studio – 138th poem of the year
(Poem 128 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
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 – 128th poem of the year
rebekahjmarshall 