Tag Archives: love

Skin Deep Disappointment

December 5, 2024 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

(Poem 330 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/gmUzt6

My heart hurt with crushing disappointment
after the news of the election was released.
I felt sadness about the reality of the people
who would be affected by inhumane policies.

I have so much more to learn to be an ally
for those I love because it never occurred to me
to be afraid for my husband or granddaughter
whose skin is more melanated than mine.

Lying in bed, bemoaning the next four years,
my husband admitted to being nervous about
walking the dog the next morning because it
will be dark and racists might feel emboldened.

My breath caught to think a thought so horrible,
and realize those are the thoughts my husband
has grown up with, must live with, is burdened by,
and over half our nation is just fine with that.

@Home Studio on 12/4/24 @ 8:52pm – 330th poem of the year

Poetry, Writing

Toto

December 5, 2024 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

(Poem 329 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

This little boy is a man now,
marrying a really lovely girl.
His dad’s a crier at weddings,
so I can only imagine the scene.

Dad’s Toto to his grandchildren,
spends time with each of them,
loves to play and be a kid
to the point that reality’s a blur.

I’m trying to meditate away
my anxiety about how he’ll
handle himself at the ceremony,
and then later when he gives a toast.

For his oldest baby’s sake,
I hope he can hold it together
and let the spotlight be on the bride
and groom, rather than his tears.

@Home Studio on 12/4/24 @ 8:19pm – 329th poem of the year

Poetry, Writing

Tornado Girl

December 2, 2024 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

(Poem 328 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/18xmpI https://gencraft.ai/p/f9l3uc https://gencraft.ai/p/uAWdon

When stuff stirs sideways and begins to knot up
in that twisting way, my heart starts to beat
like thunder, hail pounding in my head
to the rhythm of chaotic swirling
pain that builds and swells
with groaning as I eat
houses and cars,
ripping peace
to slivered
shreds
.

@Home Studio – 328th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Tornado Girl photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

I am that mother

November 24, 2024 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

(Poem 326 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/dOImw2

I didn’t think I was that mother,
the one who cleans and cooks,
looks out the window every time
a car drives by or a tree branch
bends in a way that catches her eye
and repeatedly checks her phone
for updates on her son’s progress
since he’s driving cross country
heading south with her daughter-
in-law for their wedding ceremony
here in a Texan outdoor cathedral,
but apparently, I am that mother.

@Home Studio – 326th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Mother photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Friendsgiving

November 18, 2024 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

(Poem 322 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

Photographs taken by Rebekah J. Marshall 11/17/24.

Friends gathered
around a table
sharing a meal
giving thanks for each other
and the chance to be together.
Laughter and stories
between bites
of chicken fried steak,
fried catfish, fried okra,
rosemary chicken Greek salad,
mashed potatoes,
mac & cheese, Caribbean rice,
candied yams, black-eyed peas,
and buttermilk pie.
Austin-style Southern cooking
is perfect for my first
ever Friendsgiving.

@Home Studio – 322nd poem of the year poem of the year (After lunch with Debbie, Celinda, Yulia, Jenni, and Paula.)

Runner ups for the Friendsgiving photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Tracker

November 18, 2024 rebekahjmarshall 1 Comment

(Poem 321 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

https://images.app.goo.gl/XbwtxjNvg4LAak628

He calls
himself a rewardist
because everyone’s looking
for something,
and he knows
how to find
what’s missing.
Survival may be predicated
on who needs whom
the least,
but lone wolf strategies
are mythical,
aberrant, peculiar,
resulting in attachment
deficits.
Follow the signs,
recognize the strides,
read the scuff marks
and toe digs,
transfers and heel marks,
ignore false trails
and counter-tracking.
The desperate pleas
of loved ones offering reward
must believe
the ache of hope,
fear and adrenaline
will keep the living alive
long enough for the bruising
and crying to tell a story
that leads
to being found.

@Home Studio – 321st poem of the year (Watching the show Tracker on CBS.)

Winters, Ben, Tracker, Justin Hartley, Beekeeper Entertainment, 2024.

Poetry, Writing

Becoming Supernatural

November 18, 2024 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

(Poem 320 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

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

To become supernatural
one must eat oranges
and play with kaleidoscopes,
listen to the blood pumping
through moving veins
and feel the pulse
in tips of toes.

If the past tries to creep
like a lingering rumor
up the brain stem,
one must unscrew
the scalp and release
the humors
to the heavens and beyond.

When the future
feels like a memory
of a once-forgotten story
told right now,
someone has reached
the pinnacle,
or started over.

Either way,
the electricity that hums
from an unknown source
downloads
unknowable truths
into highways of blood
and bone.

@Home Studio – 320th poem of the year (While reading Becoming Supernatural by Dr. Joe Dispenza.)

Dispenza, Dr. Joe, Becoming Supernatural, Hay House, 2017.

Runner ups for the Supernatural photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Baby Blue VW Bug

November 16, 2024 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

(Poem 318 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

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

My dream car
was a 1971 Baby Blue
Volkswagen Beetle
with the engine in the back
and a bonnet for storage.
A Canadian guy named Dana
introduced me to his car
and I fell in love—
with the car,
not Dana.
Although, Dana was cute,
reminiscent of Bill
from Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure,
but was much too old
for me to have a crush
on because I was maybe twelve.
That handsome car,
however,
was a respectable fourteen,
and I was smitten.
I begged my father
to let me have one
when I turned sixteen,
but he broke my heart
and declared bugs
deathtraps,
forbidding me from ever
even riding in one.
My cousin,
the son of my father’s twin brother,
blood of my blood,
he got a bug,
my love forever unrequited.

@Home Studio – 318th poem of the year

Poetry, Writing

My Friend, The Moon

November 16, 2024 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

(Poem 317 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/B3r0D9

My friend, the moon,
gets lonely sometimes.
He’ll wait for me in a rather
melancholy state,
just hanging around
hoping to connect.
I know I need to make
more time to visit
with him, like I used to,
but I get busy
and life gets in the way.
He probably feels
taken for granted,
though that is far from true.
I will never forget
his steadfast friendship,
nor replace him in my heart.
He knows my secrets,
where the bodies are buried,
and is the guardian of my shadow.