Tag Archives: family

Poetry, Writing

Mom Dinner

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(Poem 262 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

https://images.app.goo.gl/2uRoqxRteQx2cNs9A

These days, people are always on
about girl dinner and boy dinner,
but what about Mom dinner?
That’s the meal where you get a
spoonful of the stir-fry you are
making to taste what seasonings
are needed, a bite of each veggie
as you chop it, a spoonful of baby
food to show them how yummy
it is, and one chicken nugget that
was left on your child’s plate and
looked forlorn all by its lonesome.
You dip a carrot stick in ketchup
and eat half a string cheese that
was left on the counter by a kid.
The last swig of backwash apple
juice remaining in a sippy cup
might be what you get to drink.
Ask any Mom what a Mom dinner
is and the same haggard face of
recognition will nod in sympathy.

@Home Studio – 262nd poem of the year

Poetry, Writing

In the Air

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(Poem 259 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

https://images.app.goo.gl/dvrWVo2npNJsyyiP8

My husband is in the air
as I write this. His body is
literally catapulting through
the sky at over 500 miles per
hour and we are all supposed
to act like that is a perfectly
normal thing for a human to
do on a random Sunday night.
I guess it is actually a Monday
afternoon in Japan because
he’s going so fast he’s skipping
most of a day into the future.
Is anything real on this strange
sphere we call home that spins
at 1,000 miles per hour while
circling the sun at 67,000 miles
per hour in our solar system
that is zipping 450,000 miles
per hour around the Milky Way?

@Home Studio – 259th poem of the year

Poetry, Writing

A Beck 50

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(Poem 258 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

(Photo from my Family Ladies Lunch for my 51st Birthday. This is the last photo I have of myself as a 50-year-old.)

My husband reminded me today that
it was my last day to be a Beck 50, and
I scolded him for coming up with such
a great line on the last day of my 50th year.
Why couldn’t he have thought of it sooner,
so I could have been using it all year long?
He only thought of it after remembering
that his cousin Cynthia was 50 Cent for
her 50th year of life, and I am disappointed
to have missed the opportunity to use
the pun because am the sort who would
have used and abused that moniker.

@Home Studio – 258th poem of the year

Poetry, Writing

Losing Beauty

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(Poem 248 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

Beauty & Aiko in all their regal gorgeousness. They know they rule the kingdom.

To be without Beauty
feels plain and bare,
lacking in something.
A presence at once
regal and understated
has gone missing, and
in its place is an ache,
a pang, maybe a twinge
of listless longing for
some undefined touch
of elegance that is both
gracious and aloof,
familiar and unknowable.

@Home Studio – 248th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Losing Beauty photos to accompany my poem:

1
2
3
4
5

1. Beauty & Kage on guard duty.
2. Chika, Beauty, & Cotton Eyed Joe snuggling.
3. Beauty & Chika sharing my chair.
4. Beauty holding hands with Kenji.
5. The last picture I ever took of Beauty—Beauty & Aiko holding hands. 

Poetry, Writing

Hot Pot

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(Poem 230 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

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

Hot pot evening
broth burns tongue
warms bellies
fills contentment
noodles, mushrooms,
thinly sliced beef,
tofu, egg dumplings,
sprouts, fish balls,
onion, bok choy,
spicy or really spicy
are the options
because my daughter
is the hostess.

@Home Studio – 230th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Hot Pot photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Kage’s Unraveling

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(Poem 225 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

 AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/uhv49s

I’m afraid my cat
is unraveling
like an old sweater
with a snag.

If I pull too hard
on the loose thread
catching
on my ring
or hangnail,
who knows
how many carefully
knit rows will come
undone
and fall,
gravity removing all
trace of ever having been
a woven thing.

I don’t think he can
be put back together
again
if he falls
from his wall
and I don’t know
how to keep
him balanced
on the ledge
between
this reality
and the next.

@Home Studio – 225th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Kage’s Unraveling photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Music

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(Poem 210 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/vePvG3 https://gencraft.ai/p/7GAsJs https://gencraft.ai/p/aMGzb5

Kazu Music
discordant at first
too much stimuli
for neurodivergence
to tolerate without
an escape plan
in place
unless love and
patience can
settle and soften
and rebuild a
family in all its
lovely mess.

@Home Studio – 210th poem of the year (After watching Music by Sia with Debbie and Celinda.)

Sia, Music. Kate Hudson, Leslie Odom Jr., Maddie Ziegler, Hanway Films, 14 Jan. 2021.

Runner ups for the Music photos to accompany my poem:

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: