Tag Archives: marriage

Poetry, Writing

Fox

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(Poem 298 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/aCv0yc

Fox liked to roam
all the day long
amidst the toadstools
humming a song.

While he meandered
he’d think big thoughts,
ponder serious ideas,
untangle life’s knots.

He wondered if someday
he’d find a mate,
discover his purpose,
become something great.

The forest already
knew each answer:
he was destined for love
and to become a dancer,

an artist, a writer,
a ninja, a sensei,
a father, and a friend,
to show others the way.

He had no idea
what the future would be,
but everyone he met
could already see

that Fox was destined
to become folklore;
his influence expanding
generations and more.

@Home Studio – 298th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Fox photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Anniversary

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(Poem 275 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

(10/1/15 Mema, David, Rebekah, Grandad)

9 years ago,
I promised to
continue writing
a love story
with you
for the span
of the rest
of our lives.

I walked
down a grass aisle
to a tree canopy
and exchanged vows
in the presence
of our people
while the sun
set.

It was a Thursday,
and white
lights were strung
in the tree
so we
could celebrate
falling in love
after dark.

@Home Studio – 275th poem of the year

Poetry, Writing

The Pick-up Line

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(Poem 274 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

https://images.app.goo.gl/vtm2Hke3cJxup9qq6

Inbound air vehicles
are pulling into the plane
parking lot, unloading people
like children off a school bus
and I’m sitting in the pick-up line,
waiting to scoop
you and your backpack
into the car and whisk
you home where you belong
after a long field trip.

@Home Studio – 274th poem of the year

Poetry

How to be a Good Mother-in-Law

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(Poem 271 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

Boaz and Ariel

Respect boundaries
Mind my business
Remember birthdays
Be supportive
Don’t give unwanted advice
Stay connected
Don’t be nosy
Be patient
Set an example
Ask for forgiveness
Set expectations
Hold myself accountable
Accept change
Grant grace

@Home Studio – 271st poem of the year

Poetry, Writing

My Man is in Japan

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(Poem 265 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

(My man in Japan.)

My man
is in Japan
learning what he can
from teachers who understand
that the world is vast, and dreams are grand
for those who are willing to stretch and expand
both body and spirit by making a personal demand
that pliability and fortitude exist when things unplanned
knock us off center, we discover that we are able to withstand
most of life’s assaults with a calm heart, a quiet mind, and an open hand.

@Home Studio – 265th 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

The Red Sleeve

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(Poem 250 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

https://images.app.goo.gl/AEKne1LC2D85dgqV6

In times long ago in the
Joseon era, all the maidens
who belonged to the King
wore red cuffs on their sleeves.

To be raised in the palace or
brought in by virtue of family
connections, proof of talent,
or as a favor, meant honor.

It was a privilege to empty the
bedpans of royalty, endure the
abuse of the upper class, serve
the needs of those of higher rank.

And if chosen as a concubine,
she should feel grateful that
her body, her mind, her virtue,
and her life will never be her own.

@Home Studio – 250th poem of the year (After watching the Korean drama The Red Sleeve.)

Jung Ji-in, The Red Sleeve. Lee Jun-ho, Lee Se-young, Kang Hoon, WeMad, Npio Entertainment, 12 Nov. 2021—1 Jan. 2022.

Poetry, Writing

My Dearest

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(Poem 249 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

(At the beginning of the series.) https://images.app.goo.gl/TBVDoMZHe5YgNMwK7  https://images.app.goo.gl/dUFyreACvk9uV5Qo7

She’s selfish and high maintenance,
flirtatious, rude, and self-centered.
Her vanity is unmatched, and her
intentions immature and materialistic.

He is a womanizer, intent on remaining
unmarried and able to sow his wild oats.
His loyalty is only to himself and wealth,
and never becoming burdened by love.

With time and travail, the realities of
war, loss, separation, and the ordeal
of survival, she grows into a woman
of substance, and he, an honorable man.

@Home Studio – 249th poem of the year (After watching the Korean drama My Dearest.)

Kim Seong-yong, My Dearest. Namkoong Min, Ahn Eun-jin, MBC, 9ato Entertainment, 4 Aug–-18 Nov 2023.

(At the end of the series.) https://images.app.goo.gl/bdmUkA2SMwYtvapu7 https://images.app.goo.gl/NsNfnaKYvrEqAzJs5

Poetry, Writing

COVID’s curse

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(Poem 246 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/zxz2Lt

COVID’s curse is that it lingers,
hangs menacingly in the air, and
recapitulates its previous threats
with symptomatic diminishment.
Not as serious, less deadly, return
to work after only five days now,
means everyone shares the virus
and those concerned are viewed
as disproportionately cautious.
Do they remember the terror so
recently fresh to those whose
cats lost their owners and children
lost their grandmothers and we
lamented the death counts daily?
This time when my husband got
sick and I could not touch him
for a week, I still checked to make
sure he was breathing and sheltered
in place and social distanced,
though no one uses that language
these days anymore…so 2020 of me.
Perhaps it is the lack of the sense
of smell that was stolen from me
or the worsened sense of vision
that was purloined or the lessened
oxygenation ability that was pilfered
or possibly the energy I once had
to function all day that was looted
after my fourth run-in with the
offender who is nothing more than
an unwelcome, tiresome loiterer.

@Home Studio – 246th poem of the year

Runner ups for the COVID photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Starbucks Sunday

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(Poem 231 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

 AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/wbUNo3

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