Tag Archives: love

Christmas Breakfast

(Poem 360 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

Photo taken 12/25/24 by my sister-in-law Brittany Hefner.

Christmas morning
was all the fun and family
it should be this year,
with 3 little ones
to enjoy the excitement
of gifts and games.

The grown-ups sat
around drinking coffee
and feasted on homemade
cinnamon rolls, egg tater tot
casserole, mountains of bacon,
biscuits and gravy,
eggnog bread pudding with
eggnog whipped cream.

There was just the right
amount of silliness
and chaos and squeals,
and plenty of laughter,
as we all reconnected.

We continued the tradition
Mema liked to share
from her childhood—
orange, apple, pecans,
walnuts, and peppermints
in everyone’s stockings.

Mema would be pleased
that Grandad was right
in the middle of it all,
and was as thrilled as
a kid to open the biggest,
brightest flashlight
known to man as a gift
from one of his grandsons.

Last night, neither Grandad
nor I could sleep. His legs
were hurting and restless,
my cough was keeping
me up, so we were wandering
the house like ghosts at 2am.
Come look, he said,
after swinging open the back
door, standing in the
doorway in his pajamas.
Feel how heavy it is,
he said as he handed his
new toy flashlight to me.
Well, turn it on, he said.
I pushed the button
and nearly gasped as the entire
yard all the way to the barn
was bathed in daylight.
It felt magical,
such power in the palm
of my hand.

Mema would have swatted
both our behinds,
and loved that we are all
taking care of each other.

@Home Studio – 360th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Christmas Breakfast photos to accompany my poem:

Photos taken 12/25/24 by my sister-in-law Brittany Hefner.

Looking at Lights

(Poem 359 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/n98AKs

My husband loves
to drive around aimlessly
looking for Christmas lights
this time of year
when Christmas music
is the only thing that plays
on Magic 95.5 FM
on the car radio.

There are always entire
neighborhoods that seem
to have caught the spirit,
and those are to be expected,
but more surprising is the
one house that chooses
to decorate in the midst
of a sea of surrounding darkness.

Or my favorite, the lone
darkish house in that
over-the-top community
that obviously is just
too tired or disinterested
to participate fully,
and instead throws a few
lights over one little bush.

We always judge like we
are experts in house lighting,
forgetting temporarily
that we have never put
a single light on any house
ever, but that doesn’t matter
because we are mad
with power—
The award for biggest carbon footprint goes to, drumroll please…
The award for best Star Wars themed yard goes to…
The award for most snowmen
The award for prettiest light show
The award for Halloween-turned-Christmas
The award for most nostalgic
The award for creepiest gigantic blow-up creature hovering above the house
The award for most crap thrown together at the last minute

And a few honorable mentions
for the ones who look like they
started to decorate, but got tired
halfway through and just gave up.

@Home Studio – 359th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Looking at Lights photos to accompany my poem:

We saw a bunch of blow-up Christmas characters this year. They have gotten really popular.

Meh…we tried…

Grading Papers

(Poem 358 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/wz0d0Y https://gencraft.ai/p/peMDKV

Grading papers is one of the least
loved responsibilities of most teachers
and certainly not a favorite pastime of mine.

It is probably one of the tasks I bid farewell
with the most glee when I retired from
teaching human beings and switched to AI.

Little did I know, I would be toiling over
their interpretations of various responses
to prompts, as I have for multiple decades,
and with much the same amount of enthusiasm.

I will say, I have not been spit at, called any names,
or felt the need to put an arm’s length of physical
space between us, just in case, when giving feedback.

But I still get attitude, excuses, attempts at humor
to deflect, shifting of blame, and half-hearted
apologies, occasionally, to keep me on my toes.

@Home Studio – 358th poem of the year

Jimmy Carter

(Poem 357 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

A righteous man puts others before himself,
serves his community with humility and grace,
and is faithful to his vows, both to God and man.

Born on a farm, no running water, no electricity,
salt of the earth, family man, believer in human rights,
treating people with dignity, and freedom of religion.

He was the first president to talk about climate change,
an environmentalist at heart, a lover of the earth, supported
renewable energy by putting solar panels on the White House.

He signed legislation to manage hazardous waste,
protected over 100 million acres of Alaskan land,
and more than doubled the National Park System.

He passed the Ethics in Government Act to protect
whistle-blowers, established FEMA, and was part
of some of the first emergency planning in America.

He created the Departments of Education and Energy,
and established full diplomatic relations with China,
which created the basis for our world economic system.

He championed human rights around the world and was
the first president to focus on these issues and appoint
a woman as Assistant Secretary of State for Human Rights.

Mr. President Jimmy Carter is the first president I remember,
his serious face talking about important things on our black
and white television on every single channel, interrupting.

That’s how different it was back then; when the president
spoke, everyone stopped what they were doing to listen.
I was enamored of this kind man with gentle eyes.

I knew nothing of politics, nothing of the burdens adults endured,
but I knew that this sincere man was doing what he could
to make the world a better place with every ounce of his soul.

Rest in peace, Sir; your debt to the world has been paid
with every house you helped build, person you lifted up,
oppressor you held accountable, and kindness you shared.

@Home Studio – 357th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Jimmy Carter photos to accompany my poem:

Ham Sandwich

(Poem 356 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/VVIet0

When given his druthers,
more often than not,
Grandad chooses a ham
sandwich for lunch.

What about roasted chicken,
beef stew, spaghetti, or pizza?
No, just a ham sandwich
sounds good today.

Honey wheat sliced bread,
no need for toasting,
Kraft, the only mayonnaise,
and ham, no cheese.

Would you like some chips
or a salad on the side?
No, just a ham sandwich
sounds good today.

What about to drink—
iced tea, root beer?
Coke, water, juice, or milk?
His drink choice holds variety.

But if I try to fancy things up,
offer garnish or fruit slices?
No, just a ham sandwich
sounds good today.

@Home Studio – 356th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Ham Sandwich photos to accompany my poem:

AI couldn’t figure out how to assemble the sandwich.

AI was not exactly sure what to do with the mayo. Coca Cola Mayo!!!lol

These actually look really tasty, but Grandad would never eat cucumbers or ask for anything green on his sandwiches.

Married at First Sight

(Poem 353 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

What kind of courage must it take
to agree to marry a complete stranger?
To put your fate in the hands of professional
matchmakers who will find you a mate?

What kind of failures in relationships
and heartbreak must you have experienced
to decide your picker is irrevocably broken,
so you’re better off letting someone else decide?

What kind of hope must bubble up
as you dress for your wedding day,
eager to meet the man or woman
you might spend all your days with?

What kind of crash course in communication
could possibly prepare two people
who’ve only just met to dive into
a honeymoon and sleep in the same bed?

What kind of crazy, wild optimism
drives two people to move in together,
combine households, be vulnerable,
and believe in falling in love with a stranger?

@Home Studio – 353rd poem of the year (Based on the show Married at Frist Sight, Nashville, Season 16.)

Married at First Sight, Nashville, Season 16, Chris Coelen, Eric Detwiler, Montre Burton, Kinetic Content, FYI, Lifetime, 2023.

Runner ups for the Married at First Sight photos to accompany my poem:

Racoon Tea Party

(Poem 352 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/UuhkJ4

The monthly meeting
of the forest animals
started as a racoon
tea party, but soon grew
to include mice, a rabbit,
a few squirrels, and an
occasional deer or two.

They haven’t changed
the name from the initial
Racoon Tea Party title,
but will probably vote
next time on a new event
headline that more
adequately captures
their essential makeup.

Because, really, it’s not
even about the tea, either.
The tea is a nice incidental
part of every gathering,
of course, but the real
meat of the assembly
is stimulating discussion
of all matters consequential.

Whether it be politics,
religion, philosophy, science
the nature of reality, love,
literature, finance, history,
the arts, alchemy, astronomy,
anthropology, languages,
or artificial intelligence,
the conversation is deep.

Albert racoon always steers
the discussion to matters
economical, which irritates
Edward racoon to no end.
And Amos squirrel tends to
interrupt Silas rabbit anytime
he brings up weather patterns.
Olivia squirrel snorts disagreement.

Freda racoon can never get
a word in edgewise because
Agnes racoon prattles on about
the pharmaceutical industry
at every opportunity, and loudly,
but, all in all, they have a roaring
good time every month around dusk
at their meeting of the minds.

@Home Studio – 352nd poem of the year

Runner ups for the Racoon Tea Party photos to accompany my poem:

Space Library

(Poem 351 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

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

Reading books in a space library,
unburdened by insignificant
things like gravity or air,
makes for a floating good time.

No day or night means
reading as long as the story
calls for, the library is open,
and the coffee or tea is flowing.

Of course, no one can hear
the laughter that spills over
from the funny parts because
there’s no sound in space.

And if a particularly poignant
part wrenches unbidden tears
from weary eyes, they are unable
to fall; there’s no crying in space.

@Home Studio – 351st poem of the year

Runner ups for the Space Library photos to accompany my poem:

Strawberry Shortcake

(Poem 350 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/RI2oOB

Strawberry Shortcake
was such a lovely girl
who lived in Strawberryland
and rode a pink bicycle.

Her kitty cat Custard
and friends Lemon Meringue
Blueberry Muffin
Angel Cake
Apple Dumplin’
Butter Cookie
Mint Tulip
Lime Chiffon
Raspberry Tart
Café Ole
Plum Puddin’
Tea Blossom
and Huckleberry Pie
always had her back.

And that smell,
oh, that delectable
Strawberry Shortcake
delicious scent,
the aroma of childhood
for a sliver of children
born in the 70s
early 80s.

@Home Studio – 350th poem of the year

Book Girl

(Poem 349 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/uELVD0

Between the covers
so many worlds
unfold into beautiful
realities where she
can be anything or
anyone or nothing
but a concept
or a rhythm
or a sound
that inflates the silence
with pulsating
life on the verge
of one final breath
before the universe flings
itself into new voids
so she can invent
something new.

@Home Studio – 349th poem of the year

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