(Poem 341 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Gifts and necessities
fill every inch of the car
blending possessions
one step in the process
that is part and parcel of
two lives becoming one
from Texas to Canada
Michigan in between
mother’s heart rests easy
when she sees her boy
turned man open the car
door for his wife
and drive away
to start his new life
@Home Studio – 341st poem of the year
Runner ups for the Car Jenga photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 339 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
(Julian playing piano.)
Julian thinks he has blood burp,
the kind where blood comes out
of your body. We’re not sure if he
needs to go to the hospital, or if he
simply needs a glass of water.
He said he burped like 1,000 times.
He almost burped google plex.
Do you know what google plex means?
It means past infinity.
He’s busy playing the piano,
and such beautiful music makes
him wax contemplative.
Try to guess that song, he says.
Happy Birthday, I throw out on a whim.
NO! It’s something that says uuuuhhhh.
He’s learning to sound out words
in Kindergarten and likes to point out
the starting sounds of words to show
how smart he is, like the color red –
rrrrr, rrrrr, come on, guess it, he says.
rrrrr, eeeee, dddd, red. R, E, D. Red.
Back to uuuuuhhhh.
The name of his melancholic song.
He is very offended that I can’t figure it out.
Turns out, it’s Up from the movie.
I think that is the saddest sounding
song he can think of, and he wants
to play something soulful.
Now he’s banging in such a way that all the cats
have run outside.
He says the loud banging is from
the movie, too. It’s the part where there’s singing.
He’s done playing the piano.
Now he has my Wonder Woman sword
and is practicing stabbing me
in a variety of different ways.
Through the underarm is his favorite
because it comes out the other side
and looks really realistic.
Hey, wanna arm wrestle?
he asks conspiratorially.
I’m not sure how normal our relationship is.
This probably isn’t how most people imagine
grandmothers and grandsons spend their time.
But I don’t want to miss a second of it.
What do you want for Christmas? I ask.
Without missing a beat,
Cristiano Ronaldo cologne from Amazon.
Cologne? For a 6-year-old? Are you sure?
He nods.
What if it arrives and it’s stinky?
It won’t be. Ronaldo always smells
better than everybody all the time.
My bad. I learn something every day.
@Home Studio – 339th poem of the year
More Silly Julian:
(Poem 338 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
“Going to the chapel
and you’re gonna get married.”
Today’s the day you say your vows,
agree to disagree for many years to come.
Family and friends look on with joy and tears,
so thankful to have gained a daughter or a son.
Our hearts are full as we celebrate your sweet union,
hopeful that this is the beginning of a lifetime of love.
@Home Studio – 338th poem of the year
More Wedding Day photos to accompany my poem:
Julian as ring bearer security. Mackenzie and Charlotte as flower girls.
(Poem 337 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
No one else will do it right.
Without the blueprints,
plans or mental designs
needed to create the vision,
there is no way well-meaning
helpers can really do much.
But once the framework’s
been built and the key
elements are in place,
then others can step up
to add decorative touches.
Of course, their work
will need to be double-
checked because everything
needs to be beautiful
and perfect for the reception.
No one else will do it right.
@Home Studio – 337th poem of the year
The end result:
(Poem 336 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Every mother wants
the best for her baby,
pins hopes for prosperity
on the unborn future,
and wishes a better life
for her offspring
than she was afforded.
Though it hurts to imagine,
she knows the child
will have to learn lessons
that will cause pain
and will face enemies
who hope to do them harm.
And it thrills her to think
about the elated joy
her son or daughter
will experience when
moments of success
become victories,
and bubble up into
celebration.
@Home Studio – 336th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Pregnant Villains photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 335 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
There’s a little Japanese village
where lanterns light up paths
that wind between neighbors’
dwellings, and rain falls
at just the right time of day,
when everyone’s ready for naps.
There’s miso soup on the stove
and soba noodles in the fridge,
tonkatsu or grilled fish for dinner,
and okayu porridge for anyone
feeling a little under the weather.
@Home Studio – 335th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Japanese Village photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 334 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
When one door closes,
the outside is kept out,
which gives the traveler
a chance to look inward.
It is then that another
door swings wide open
revealing universal secrets
free to anyone asking
without words, looking
without eyes, finding
without even seeking.
@Home Studio – 334th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Doors photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 333 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
The beat is what
slips into the cracks
and fills every potential
with movement.
The lyrics are what
slide into awareness
and sing an unforgettable
melody effortlessly.
Then, it is only natural
to grab your partner
by the hand and wind
up dancing all night.
@Home Studio – 333rd poem of the year
Runner ups for the Dancing Robots photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 332 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/pH9ZaO https://gencraft.ai/p/JSrmnT https://gencraft.ai/p/qh1VIp
The view from a balcony
is beautiful no matter the
size of the body doing the gazing.
The heart that beats
is full of love no matter the
circumference of the hips.
The mind with ambitions
is powerful no matter the
mass of the dreamer.
The soul of the saint
is expansive no matter the
confines of human form.
@Home Studio – 332nd poem of the year
Runner ups for the Balconies photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 331 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
“GOD, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the ability to change the things that I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
When I’m able to sink
into silent, safe serenity,
the surrounding uncertainty
stills and settles
like stones in a bowl
that each have a place
nestled one on top
of the other.
Solid weightlessness
exists in this place
of serendipity and peace
that only arrives once
acceptance has forgotten
that change is even necessary,
and wisdom has loosened
her corset to surrender
herself to the sweet
sensation of release.
@Home Studio – 331st poem of the year
Runner ups for the Serenity photos to accompany my poem:
rebekahjmarshall 