Tag Archives: Poetry

Fiction, Poetry, Writing

David is Beautiful

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(Poem 1 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

David is beautiful,
especially when reading
through smudgy glasses
wrapped in my thread-bare sweater
because he didn’t think he needed
a coat for our date
and is now sacrificing his comfort
so we can sit outside where it is
breezy and cool and
a homeless man is making
him uncomfortable by sitting not
far from us spitting on the floor
every so often.

David is beautiful,
especially when he
does not complain about
his terrible hot chocolate
that was not even stirred properly
so he got an entire swig
of molten grossness near the end,
and his cinnamon concoction is
hard as a rock and
I can tell he doesn’t like it.

David is beautiful,
especially when letting me
read my novel out loud to him
that is mixing mythologies
like nobody’s business,
but he listens anyway
because my son mistakenly bought
it for him when I was the one
who wanted it for research I was doing
on I can’t remember what,
and no matter because I love
an excuse to read out loud
because it is one of my favorite
things to do in the whole world.

David is beautiful
when he would rather be
playing his video games and
watching his shows or building
something out of nothing
in his studio but instead
sits with me, Anderson Lane traffic
buzzing by, grackles hoping for
handouts, drinking water from
a dog dish,
the sun doing little to warm him,
but he knows I love Genuine Joe’s
for tea and writing
so much that he bought
me a gift card
and brought me here
and waited in a long line
to get me pumpkin bread
and hot tea
while I sat and read
to my heart’s content.

@Genuine Joe’s mid-day 1st poem of the year

Fiction, Poetry, Writing

Riddle for a name

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Riddle for a name,
secrets lay blame.
Speak in snake
for everyone’s sake.

Chambers of cave
and porcelain grave
where myrtle trees grow
and willows blow.

Bad business afoot,
full confidence put,
help always found,
if you ask around.

Spider trails lead
to answers indeed,
but questions grow
increasing woe.

Medusa-like eyes
leave us petrified,
unless evil reject
and sight reflect.

Then blinded beast,
with anger increased,
will wound to kill
lest Phoenix tears heal.

The book destroy,
this truth employ:
all blood is pure,
of that I’m sure.

My friends and I are watching all the movies…all the Magical Beasts and all the Harry Potters. This was the poem I wrote while watching Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

Poetry, Writing

Gold-filled Trunks

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Dust more valuable than gold,
treasures worth their weight
in memory.
Antique steamer trunks
stacked at the foot of the bed
hold space, time –
capsules layered with matter.

I have been buying trunks on Marketplace to use as storage. I never liked the plastic totes and cardboard boxes I used to keep my items in. These feel full of mystery and history. They even inspire poetry.

Poetry, Writing

Goblet of Fire

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If the Goblet of Fire

spits out your name

expect to face dragons

and battle sea creatures

You’re doomed if you do

and doomed if you don’t

for the game is rigged

and no one really wins

Contenders end up in a

graveyard of darkness

Save who you can

as you fight for your life

because you will face

suffering greater than any

you have ever known

Persist through the mazes

of self-doubt and despair

Stay true to your values

remember your friends

Speak truth to oppressors

stare down the barrel

of hatred’s unrepentance

to earn peace in the end

 

This poem was written during a Harry Potter marathon with my friend Debbie M. while watching the fourth movie Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. 

Poetry, Writing

Finish Your Boggart

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What is your greatest fear?

Finish it with silliness.

Spiders stumbling in roller skates,

tyrants donning absurd apparel,

cobras turned jack-in-the-box,

full moon a deflating balloon.

A bit of whimsy bordering on

nonsense disarms the boogeyman.

Don’t wait for your father –

he’s not coming.

Save yourself with joy,

for laughter is fear’s nemesis.

 

This poem was written during a Harry Potter marathon with my friend Debbie M. while watching the third movie Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. 

Fiction, Poetry, Writing

Chamber of Secrets

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The key

to opening

my chamber

of secrets

is consistency.

Showing oneself

worthy of trust,

a companion

who arrives.

There is something

to be said for

presence,

the constant knowing

that someone can

be counted on

to exist

when others

are virtual.

 

This poem was written during a Harry Potter marathon with my friend Debbie M. while watching the second movie Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. 

Poetry, Writing

Whose Orchid?

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An orchid appeared

on my counter last week.

It’s stick-straight stems

point proudly skyward

upholding regal blooms

of white with

painted purple lips.

Waxy long leaves

splay around the base

as though palms upturned

in adoration.

Imagine my pleasure

upon discovering that

the beautiful blossoms

in question were left

for me by my daughter.

Symbolic of elegance

and fertility,

love and respect.

Printed directions

attached to a stick

explain care and feeding,

so my granddaughter

places three ice cubes

reverently just above the roots

and waits to see

what happens next.

Essays, Writing

I Started a Publishing Business!

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Marshall Press

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Today was exhausting!  I am about to fall in bed, but must share the victories of my day.

  • Set up my address for Marshall Press at the post office.
  • Got my dba (doing business as) paperwork filed with the county for Marshall Press (which is good for the next 10 years.)
  • Opened a bank account for Marshall Press with a company VISA and everything!
  • Set up my account with my new banking information for publishing with Kindle Create / Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing.
  • Purchased marshallpress.net domain name for the next 10 years from NameCheap.
  • Created an account on Bluehost for my marshallpress website to be hosted for the next year.
  • Created an account with FreeImages to be able to use lovely images on my sites.

There is still more to do, but that is all for one day.  I am going to relax in my comfy quarters for the last night of my retreat and enjoy one more glorious morning of tea and writing when I awake.

Poetry, Writing

Goodbye, my dear friend

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-For Mary by Rebekah J. Marshall 1/20/19

Goodbye, my dear friend.

“The earth has arranged her skirts

and taken you back so tenderly.”

I know you have “vanished

into something better-”

“the dark hug of time.”

What is it like “after the last day?”

“Did you float into the sky?”

I know “you never intended

to be in this world,”

yet you still got on with

“building the universe.”

“Everything dies at last and too soon,’

so I will bathe in the

“moon’s bone-white eye”

while whispering

“prayers made of grass”

until “all the locks click open.”

No matter how “humble the effort,”

I will “move my grains on a hillside”

one by one if need be

for “neither power nor powerlessness

will have me entirely”

and “I am willing to be dazzled.”

Yes, “my spirit carries within it the thorn,”

but I “keep on trudging.”

And every so often

“green leaves emerge from the tips of my fingers.”

A “fox on his feet of silk” found

“a bride married to amazement.”

I “have changed my life,”

“announced my place in the family of things,”

and “invented the dance with the wind,” for

“death is a little way away from everywhere.”

This is the very reason that

“every morning the world is created.”

Thank you for living

“your one wild and precious life.”

I will “remember your beloved name”

until I am “washed out of my bones”

because “death isn’t darkness after all,

but so much light wrapping itself around us.”