All images created by Rebekah Marshall’s prompts using AI on Gencraft.com website.
Dogs Playing Chess
Tag Archives: dogs
Contentment
(Poem 96 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Contentment is pajamas
and a fan blowing straight
on my bare shoulders,
flickering candlelight,
endless streaming of my
favorite shows as long as
I feel like watching them,
sweet tea, lines of poetry,
a chapter of a good novel,
a cool spring breeze that
rustles the tranquil curtains,
salt and pepper kettle chips,
the clickity clack of my
keyboard when my fingers
know what they want to type,
my husband hobbying a
few feet away from me,
the dogs playing outside,
the cats sleeping nearby,
my kids and grandkids off
doing their own things,
and the complete absence
of pain or discomfort.
@Home Studio – 96th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Contentment photos to accompany my poem:
Pet Photo Op
(Poem 92 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Kenji was a gentleman,
ready to cooperate for the
camera, looking debonair.
Aiko said, no thank you,
but endured with a put-
upon dejected expression.
Kage was an expert at
striking a pose, seemed
familiar with formal attire.
Beauty was immediately
disgruntled and vexed,
gave me one brief chance.
I didn’t dare warn Chika,
simply snuck a photo before
she could even react.
The boys definitely won
the day with their
professional behavior.
The girls were divas whose
attitudes left little to be
desired, as expected.
@Home Studio – 92nd poem of the year
Good Morning
(Poem 69 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Good morning leaves decaying in layers in our little yard forest. You have carpeted the ground beautifully with your life donation. Each of your sacrifices is appreciated, honored, and revered by many paws padding over your graves. Good morning birds singing to the gallery of the gods. You cheer the space where silence was lonely and fill the trees with invisible color. Good morning cool breeze gently swaying the boughs. Waving, nodding, welcoming all of us to your open-air cathedral, we are in awe of your generosity. Good morning ghost white sky. I suppose you don’t feel cornflower blue right now, and that is okay. You are lovely just as you are and have every right to express yourself however you like. Good morning big red barn with peeling paint. Your strength and shelter have protected many generations. You have been a foundation upon which lives were built. Good morning wood pile. What a lovely stack you’ve made of yourself, artistically skewed like an artisanal centerpiece for the yard.
@Home Studio – 69th poem of the year
Life Is Hard
(Poem 65 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Life is hard for protectors
who must bark endlessly to
deter potential enemies.
Anything could be a threat-
that leaf fluttering menacingly
toward the fence line,
the plane flying over head,
even the car passing on the
street that can’t be seen,
only heard and understood
to pose a danger to all.
It is only right that well-earned
naps take place at regular
intervals throughout the day.
How else will they manage
to continue their missions,
patrol every inch of property,
smell every conceivable
danger before it could
possibly occur, and protect
the peace with dignity?
The cat just likes to nap for
no good reason; she has not
honorably earned her sleep,
nor has she contributed in
any way to the security of
her family beyond gazing
disinterestedly at the hard
workers as they tirelessly
performed their duties.
It is a thankless job with
only contentment as reward.
@Home Studio – 65th poem of the year
I Fell Today
(Poem 61 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
I fell today while walking Kenji
the short distance to the dog run.
I did not trip, stumble, collapse,
slip, stub my toe, nor faint dead away.
It was as though the earth moved
from beneath my feet and there
was nothing left to do but lie down-
the slow motion forward momentum
reminiscent of a tree felled by rot.
My shocked dog panicked, then
sprung into action and proceeded to
administer CPR square in the middle
of my back while head-butting me,
attempting to bring me to. Trouble is,
I was not in need of any of these
ministrations; my breathing was
startled, but sure, and adrenaline
ensured no loss of consciousness.
I’ve dreaded this day for over a
year; “Whatever you do, don’t fall,”
the surgeon’s only instructions
like telling a bird not to fly, a fish
not to swim, a dog not to give CPR
to its helpless person in need.
So, fall, I did, but break, I did not.
A little scraped, a lot bruised, but
no longer dreading the first fall.
@Home Studio – 61st poem of the year
I Set You Up, Poor Cotton Eye’d Joe
(Poem 37 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
I set you up, poor
Cotton Eye’d Joe;
curiosity killed my curio.
The young dog
you barely knew,
of course startled
your eyes of blue.
Away you flew
like a wounded dove
shattering branches
of porcelain trees
in your fearful flight
to safety.
@Home Studio – 37th poem of the year
Soft Rain the Show
(Poem 33 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Soft rain the show we are watching through
open door, curtain tucked into the waist of
stacked trunks standing guard at least for a
century. How many rains have they seen?
Many more than the cats and dogs staring
with wonder at the wet world; even more
than me with my half-century life spent on
not watching enough rain in the past, so I must
make up for it by analyzing every drop.
@Home Studio – 33rd poem of the year
Runner ups for the rain, animals, trunk photos to accompany my poem:
Beauty Watches
(Poem 20 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Beauty watches Aiko (the husky) sleep.
She studies the paws positioned
in perfect running formation,
as though young again, racing at
breakneck speed faster than thought.
She notices the rise and fall of
breath and memory, dream and peace.
A double winter coat invites nestling,
and Beauty contemplates placement,
position, cause of least disturbance,
optimal geographic juxtaposition
of functional grace, busy relaxation,
dutiful nonchalance, operative indifference.
There is an art to being both beautiful
and resolute, relevant and immaterial–
a skill to pondering both nothing and
everything—and she has perfected it.
@Home Studio – Watching Aiko and Beauty together – 20th poem of the year
Candles Lit
(Poem 5 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Candles lit
Cleared space
Tea at the ready
Blank page
Dogs asleep
at my feet
Husband in a
snuggie so
the air can be
comfortable
for the furnace
that is me
Perfect evening
to sit and write
Melt my soul
back to the night
Quiet peace
Edge of dream
Twinkle lights
add softness
Husband’s touch
subtle as a battle cry
but welcome
and enough
Nice to share
a relaxing day
alone together
Our secret foreplay
And when he
switches the laundry
my heart melts
a little bit more
softening edges
I forget are rough,
angry and wounded
in need of love
@Home Studio – 5th poem of the year
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