(Poem 131 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
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
(Poem 123 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
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
(Poem 116 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
70 is the new 50.
Bike, climb, hike, romance;
the world is your oyster,
the sky the limit.
You can smell the roses
and shoot for the moon,
throw your hat in the ring
and take the bull by the horns.
So, bite the bullet,
but don’t break a leg
because the ball’s in your court,
and it’s time to sing your own praises.
You make your own destiny,
for nothing is set in stone.
Since all bets are off,
pull out all the stops,
make a castle in the sky,
and do everything on your bucket list.
@Home Studio – 116th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Granny Fun photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 115 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
We had a meeting in the kitchen.
I cried and scrubbed the stove.
You told me to take better care of myself.
I scraped burnt cabbage and tomato sauce off a pan.
You left a cabinet open.
I cried some more.
You played with the wind chimes.
I said how much I miss our chats.
You comforted me.
@Home Studio – 115th poem of the year
All images created by Rebekah Marshall’s prompts using AI on Gencraft.com website.
(Poem 104 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
The lawn must be mowed,
and no one else does it right.
From the porch to the road,
keep the column lines tight.
Outline the driveway on the edge;
hold the steering wheel straight.
Get right up close to the hedge,
and be sure to mow near the gate.
Over time you’ll finish the job,
even if you take little nap breaks.
Use the steering wheel knob
to avoid too many muscle aches.
Someday you’ll have to do the task
of keeping this yard looking neat.
If you can do it without having to ask
for help I’ll know my job’s complete.
@Home Studio – 104th poem of the year
Runner ups for the lawnmower Grandad photos to accompany my poem:
All images created by Rebekah Marshall’s prompts using AI on Gencraft.com website.
(Poem 99 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
I saw your corona with my own eyes
and I was smitten with the overwhelming
knowledge that you have power over my
very existence because your presence
ensures that I can flourish and prosper.
Without you, I cannot live.
Without you, my world would be destroyed.
Without you, there would be nothing to be
bedazzled by and no home to inhabit.
Without you, there would be no me.
@Home Studio – 99th poem of the year
Runner ups for the eye eclipse photos to accompany my poem:
(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:
(Poem 95 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
I just woke up from
nap number 8,943.
My grandson was
supposed to wake
me up when my
alarm went off on
my phone he was
borrowing to play
his video games.
He did not do his
job, and I slept until
fully rested for once.
I had so much energy
that I was able to
clean out the cupboard
under the stairs and
organize the wrapping
paper and vacuum
the floor and sort the
donations and more.
I think I’m ready for
nap number 8,944.
@Home Studio – 95th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Sleep photos to accompany my poem:
rebekahjmarshall 