Tag Archives: recovery

Old Friend

July 19, 2024 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

(Poem 192 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/zE8jZQ

Lunch with an old friend
is always a nice time to
catch up on family and
career, health and goals,
to reconnect over tales
of the past, memories of
the trials by fire and joys
we endured, tolerated,
and survived in the line
of duty that is a niche
experience most cannot
fathom, nor relate to.

Something about talking
through the time spent
in the trenches of yesterday
reminds us that the alternate
reality that was our daily
existence was real and vital,
and still being here to
talk about it confirms that
we are okay, our sacrifices
mattered and are not forgotten,
at least by us, as long as we
whisper our stories out loud.

@Erica’s – 192^nd poem of the year (After lunch with Debbie Rice-Hutchison.)

Poetry, Writing

Summer Bouquet

July 19, 2024 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

(Poem 191 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/xvH8ZZ

Interlaced stems braided
to create structure beneath
the surface soak in nutrients,
nourish new opening buds,
hold strong fully-flared,
freshly-ripened flowers of
cerulean, cardinal red, plum,
violet, magenta, tangerine,
and pops of bright sunflower.

@Erica’s – 191^st poem of the year

Runner ups for the bouquet photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Uter-Us

July 19, 2024 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

(Poem 190 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/Sa2iIv https://gencraft.ai/p/WKPxbw https://gencraft.ai/p/pOcgWm

The uterus is a universe
of endometrial enchantment,
a whispering womb,
a reproductive realm,
a cervical sanctuary,
and the cradle of life;
the hormonal harmony
in that pelvic paradise
creates menstrual magic
from the ovarian orbit
and fallopian fantasy that
results in a cycle symphony

…until it becomes something else…

a pelvic painscape
due to hormonal havoc
that creates womb woes
due to cervical crisis,
ovaries who are outraged,
frustrated fallopian tubes,
endometrial eruptions,
menstrual mayhem,
cycles of chaos,
a fertility fiasco,
and the reproductive riot
that brings only destruction.

@Home Studio – 190^th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Uterus photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Bloody Mary

July 15, 2024 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

(Poem 189 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

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

Catoptromancy
Dark room
Single candle
Running water
Spin 3 times
Look in the mirror
Ghostly corpse
Chanting her name
Bloody Mary
Bloody Mary
Bloody Mary

@Home Studio – 189^th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Bloody Mary photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Playing in the Creek

July 8, 2024 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

(Poem 188 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

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

I remember the sound of cicadas
as we found frogs in the mud on the
banks of the creek we weren’t really
supposed to be playing in because
my father was certain we were going
to somehow drown in the three feet
of water that trickled and pooled
and invited us siren-like to the middle.
I remember pretending to like fishing
because my older cousin Tim was
collecting worms, and I wanted him
to think I was mature for a little girl
and not squeamish at all about the
wriggling, squirming, slippery, slimy
bits that had to be impaled tip to tail.
I remember the grown-ups always
sitting around sipping sweet tea in
the most boring looking way and
doing nothing but talking and eating
and occasionally laughing or yelling
at one of us to shut the door or quit
coming in and out, and I was certain
I would never want to sit around like
them and be boring when I grew up.

@Home Studio – 188^th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Creek photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Coffee Cacophony

July 5, 2024 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

(Poem 187 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/a9RJoh

You doin’ ok?
the barista asks someone looking at the menu
You’ve got to be hot because I’m hot
my husband says to me
Unidentifiable ethnic-sounding earth music plays
over the speakers chanting comforting spells
A soprano’s laugh bubbles up above all the other sounds
I’m fine
a tenor responds to someone who asks
My husband whispers or raps or sings to himself
perhaps he is reading out loud, it could be any of the above
because he is rarely silent for long
You’ve lost one of your lenses
a woman says to the elderly man she cares for
I know, he says
does she think he is unaware that he can only half-see?
freeway
I was trying to draw you
spiral
London Fog
to be clear
I think we all know
it’s a reservoir
keep going, Dude
really hammer it home
when I’m on stage
I’m not racist or homophobic
not on purpose
there is a monster
how cute
Chai
Hello
A blender and cups being bussed are the percussive elements that were missing.
Tea-Jasmine
Someone knocks loudly on the restroom door
one-two-three-four in quick succession
and a phone whistles
it just got real

@Genuine Joe’s – 187^th poem of the year

Runner ups for the coffee shop photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Fireworks

July 5, 2024 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

(Poem 186 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

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

Fireworks make my daughter’s emotions swell,
a lump in the throat, eyes fill, heart tight, why?
The beauty of communal celebration, delicate
power on display, explosion of color against a
black background, the artist’s palette consisting
of aluminum and titanium for bright white stars,
copper for the luminous blue, barium for green,
strontium and lithium salts for red, sodium yellow,
calcium orange, the light like a warning, reaching
our eyes a bit before the slower sound can assault
our ears, rattle our chests, and make us nostalgic
for our own births and deaths…the short answer—
she resonates with the message the fireworks
attempt to share, the poetry of imitating the stars.

@Genuine Joe’s – 186^th poem of the year

Poetry, Writing

Mother Daughter Breakfast

July 5, 2024 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

(Poem 185 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/t3yLr2

We sit at the barstools and watch
you cook, just like the old days.
Sisters, swinging feet, sipping
tea and coffee, eating Round Rock
donuts, and waiting for a feast.
You’ve made biscuits and gravy,
eggs and bacon, with your honeys
on display in the center of the table.
We chat and laugh and catch up
on the gossip we might have missed.
Hurry, come look, slowly and quietly,
tip toe to the back door, shhhhhhh,
you say, our curiosity peaked.
Just a hot summer Wednesday,
nothing special on the agenda,
but nice, all the same because who
knows how many more hot summer
Wednesdays we get together to eat
our mother’s biscuits and gravy
and stare at a giant baby vulture
fresh from his nursery getting a
drink of water on the back porch.

@Geuine Joe’s – 185^th poem of the year

https://images.app.goo.gl/MDNFfvcERDTXzYqWA This is not the actual vulture on my mother’s back porch, but hers looks a bit like this. (There are actually 2 that have hatched this year and are doing well. A vulture couple lays their eggs under her house every year.)

Poetry, Writing

Echoes of the Future

July 5, 2024 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

(Poem 184 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/rUA3Kt https://gencraft.ai/p/k2G0lW https://gencraft.ai/p/UdPZrD

My mother’s voice was
a bit exasperated at the
absence of anyone home.
I did not hear the door
behind her as she left,
but hurried to let her know
I was there and say hello.
I opened the front door;
she was already in her car
but she turned off the engine
when she saw me and
decided to come back in,
or so I thought…
In her reality, she just
arrived, had not yet stepped
foot in the house, had felt
no annoyance at the absence
of anyone and made no sound.
What future echo did I hear
that never even happened?