(Poem 233 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Jane’s Krazy Salt is
my favorite seasoning
I’ve ever tasted.
@Home Studio – 233rd poem of the year
Jane’s Krazy Salt
Tag Archives: Health
Starbucks Sunday
(Poem 231 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
It’s a Starbucks Sunday kind of day
with a Texas August outside and
chilled artificial air cooling us in our
fishbowl drinking iced tea and pink
fluffy milkshakes with fancy names
like Strawberry Cream Frappuccino.
Fellow goldfish scurry from their cars
into the inside where it is safe and
comfortable with the sounds of music
and laughter, frothing and cash
registers, clip clop of flip flops, and
pleasant conversation that dips and
swells and matches the happy serenity.
@Starbucks Studio – 231st poem of the year
Hot Pot
(Poem 230 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
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:
First Day of School
(Poem 227 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Dressed to impress,
hair styled just so,
feet in new shoes,
look at them grow.
Climbing on a bus
for the commute,
backpack and lunch
and smiles to boot.
Headed to school,
meet the new class
make new friends
and have a blast.
It’s a great day to
start the new year
of learning and fun
with nothing to fear.
@Home Studio – 227th poem of the year
Kage’s Unraveling
(Poem 225 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
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:
Hair Sticks
(Poem 224 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/aFvVVN https://gencraft.ai/p/7PA40X https://gencraft.ai/p/FTmjDC
Whether a ji to pin
a perfectly coiled
chignon in place,
or a binyeo to look
powerfully poised,
hair sticks are a
timeless adornment
that are practical,
beautiful, and one
of the few women’s
accessories that
can double as a
weapon if needed.
@Home Studio – 224th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Hair Sticks photos to accompany my poem:
Inside Out 2
(Poem 221 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Puberty ushers in such
comrades as Anxiety,
Envy, Embarrassment,
and my favorite, Ennui.
The panic that ensues
when Embarrassment
threatens and Envy
rears her unsettled self,
resurrects Fear and
Disgust, Anger and
Sadness, leading to
complete paralysis.
The only protection
against it all is to feign
Ennui…nothing matters
because too much
enthusiasm might be
the wrong amount, and
no one would dare be
too happy in a room
full of teens trying to
fake unruffled chill.
Rebekah Marshall @Home Studio on 8/19/24 @ 10:17am – 221st poem of the year (After watching Inside Out 2 with my granddaughter in theatre.)
Mann, Kelsey. Inside Out 2. Amy Poehler, Pixar Animation Studios, 14 June 2024.
Stale Chips
(Poem 219 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Is there anything more disappointing
than a full bag of stale corn chips?
The perfectly plump air-filled sack
promises a crisp, crackly, salty snack,
and the satisfying rip that breaks the
seal rewards the hungry with the
enticing aroma of oil-toasted corn.
The perfect chip is chosen for shape
and size, uniformity of potential crunch,
evenly distributed inherent saltiness,
and all it takes is one bite to experience
the soul-crushing softness of flaccidity.
@Home Studio on 8/18/24 @ 10:33pm – 219th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Stale Chips photos to accompany my poem:
sea salt surf
(Poem 218 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
sea salt on the wind
beached driftwood drying
jasmine and sweet cream
reeds suspended in oil
elocute the air with their
effusive particulates
demanding I return to
a bonfire on the beach
wearing a wind breaker
wishing someone would
hold my hand or find me
alluring like the waves
as the sand invades my
socks and the stars
wink at my impermanence.
@Home Studio – 218th poem of the year (Teen beach memories evoked by an oil infuser my bestie gave me as a gift.)
Clean Sheets
(Poem 217 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Clean sheets soothe my skin
and cocoon me in comfort
while I hibernate.
@Home Studio on 8/18/24 @ 8:48pm – 217th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Clean Sheets photos to accompany my poem:
rebekahjmarshall 