Tag Archives: family

Poetry, Writing

Garage Sale Queen

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(Poem 209 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/e5Uldp

One person’s junk is
another person’s treasure,
or so I’ve been told by those
who love garage saling.

Hunting for a steal is
the name of the game;
if you’re brave enough to play,
you might just get hooked.

A hover board for free,
though no way to charge it.
Harry Potter jelly beans,
if you like the taste of vomit.

Bring a wad of cash;
dollar bills are the best.
Don’t be shy about haggling;
your prize will be the experience.

@Home Studio – 209th poem of the year (My granddaughter Queen Charlotte went garage saling with my Great Aunt Eva, who is the real garage sale queen.)

Runner ups for the Garage Sale Queen photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Where Has She Gone?

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(Poem 202 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

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

Oh, where has she gone, Ava dear, Ava dear?
Oh, where has she gone, your sweet mother?
She has left me here alone with the dog and her bone.
Will she come home, or leave me with my brothers?

Oh, where has she gone, Caleb dear, Caleb dear?
Oh, where has she gone, your sweet mother?
She has left me here all day with the cat and games to play.
Will she come home to me, my sister, and my brother?

Oh, where has she gone, Jacob dear, Jacob dear?
Oh, where has she gone, your sweet mother?
She has left me here to starve, so a turkey I must carve.
Will she come home to me, my sister, and my brother?

Oh, where has she gone, Sissy dear, Sissy dear?
Oh, where has she gone, your sweet mother?
She has left me here with them; my prospects are grim.
Will she come home to me, and those others?

Oh, where has she gone, Bear dear, Bear dear?
Oh, where has she gone, your sweet mother?
She has left me here with Lou; now I think I have the flu.
Will she come home, please, so I can recover?

@Home Studio – 202nd poem of the year

Runner ups for the Missing Mother photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Infusion

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(Poem 200 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/NXdv3f

The life is in the blood,
so infusing 2 pints of A+
must be lifegiving at its
finest and most pure.
My grandfather and I
share the same type,
so we could save each
other if need be, right?
I’m sure he’d rather
infuse me with common
sense that knows to
get my car inspected
before the deadline
and gets my tires
replaced before they
are bald and cleans
out the vacuum better.
And I would rather
infuse him with an
optimism that looks
forward to the day as
open to possibility of
everything going right
and the idea that there
might be other ways
of doing things and
perhaps we don’t
know everything.
Instead, we settle for
driving in silence except
for pointing out the people
who don’t seem to know
how to drive properly
and agreeing that the
overpass we are on is
unnecessarily high
because we both know
better than the engineers
who created such a
silly design without
asking our opinions.

@Home Studio – 200th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Overpass photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Family Tree

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(Poem 198 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

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

This family tree has deep roots
and strong rings over a hundred
years old that support 16 great
branches, only one set of twins.
Winnie is the beautiful bough from
which my little shoot springs forth.
Barney, Red, Jewel, Myrtle, Tip, Sis,
R. G., Sicker, Grady, P. W., Annie,
Ralph, Alice, twins Abbie & Toby.
So many families have been born
from that soil, sprouted buds and
fresh vibrant leaves, grown sweet
fruit to nourish many generations.

@Home Studio – 198th poem of the year

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

Poetry, Writing

Grieving Mother – House of the Dragon

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(Poem 180 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/3PTiet  https://gencraft.ai/p/rcoJcL

The mother does what
any mother must do after
receiving the worst news
imaginable; she mounts
her dragon and flies as far
as she must for confirmation
with her own eyes that her
son has been taken from
this world in a vicious attack.
She must reckon with the
knowledge that all could
have been prevented by
her every step of the way,
so she has herself to blame
for her baby ending up in the
belly of the enemy’s beast.
A son for a son will become
the battle cry that brings
only blood to the realm.
Winter is truly coming.

@Home Studio – 180th poem of the year (after watching Season 2, Episode 1 of House of the Dragon)

Condal, Ryan and George R. R. Martin, creators. House of the Dragon. HBO Entertainment and Warner Bros., 2024.

Runner ups for the Grieving Mother photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Kingdom

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(Poem 140 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

https://search.app.goo.gl/6ANmbv4
https://search.app.goo.gl/C7jqfLf

An eagle egg cradled against
the heart incubates a hunter,
and nurtures a lifelong bond.
Only those who know the song
to call the great birds will be
saved with Noa from the flood.
It seems a world where all
species somehow coexist
would be best for everyone.
Why must someone always
strive to dominate others
rather than share space?
Caesar gave his life to bring
his clan to the promised land
where “ape shall not kill ape.”
According to the tenets he
espoused, everyone should
show generosity and compassion.
Raka of the Order of Caesar
led by example when he
offered food to the Nova.
Life lost is his recompense,
and Mae safeguarding her own
rather than caring for all.

@Home Studio – 140th poem of the year

Ball, Wes, director. Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes. 20th Century Studios, 2024.

Poetry, Writing

Bath Salts

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(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 – 131st poem of the year

Poetry, Writing

War

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

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/0yYZ6p
AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/C9Llca

“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) – 130th 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

Rise

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

https://images.app.goo.gl/wJTsFk2Qgnv5pQiQ6
https://images.app.goo.gl/iVqjuik4pPKu2j639
https://images.app.goo.gl/ta3x13DZD917NHcZ9

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) – 124th poem of the year

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

Poetry, Writing

Mema Day

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(Poem 123 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

I took this photograph on Mema’s front porch 5/4/24.

My sister bought a box
of butterflies to release in
honor of Mema’s birthday.
We gathered, all five
generations of us, and
watched in awe as they
emerged from their sleepy
coldness to warm to the
overcast heat of a May day.
Each butterfly took its own
time exploring this new
brightness of air and space,
flitting from tiny human to
big human to ground to
metal rooftop and beyond.
The last Painted Lady
dilly-dallied and decided
to rest a while on a potted
plant on Mema’s porch.
None of us really knew
what to expect and were
pleasantly surprised at the
loveliness of the little
creatures Mema loved so.

@The Writing Barn: Buddha Hall (in honor of Mema’s birthday that was on May 2nd and the butterfly release that was on May 4th. She would have been 89.) – 123rd poem of the year