Choices

When I was a freshman in college, Allen Ginsberg came to campus and did a poetry reading. From the front and center I could see and hear him clearly. I was unaware of his poems and his freedom of expression challenge. Remembering where I sat in the auditorium, how he looked and moved his voice. Now all I can recall is his verse line about masturbating with an empty toilet paper roll.

 

Wrapped in sexuality

to say or not say

is it privilege and a choice

___________________________

dVerse writing prompt on sexuality – one of the choice poems to prompt was Allen Ginsberg. Google his freedom of expression case on you tube

Advertisements
Choices

Forgotten Fruit

Loss of appetite

when apples go rotten

fermenting within

mush to touch

wrinkled skin

 

Under the tree

no pie nor cider

an apple wine

it could have been

it falls to spoil

 

Forgotten fruit

of the garden

will keep the soil

ripe and ready

________________

dVerse prompt on spoil in quadrille form

Forgotten Fruit

Thanksgiving Pie

 
Make pie

before the apples spoil

some too far gone

others need a peel

core out rot

slices sugarcoated

Crust over with cinnamon

butter the size of a walnut 

seal with fluted edge 

don’t forget pumpkin

out of the cellar

no more vinegar pie

_____________________

dVerse prompt on the word spoil in quadrille form. In colonial times women

would make vinegar pie when the fruits and vegetables were gone.

Thanksgiving Pie

More Than

Less than a week of being off the water of the mighty Colorado River, my body is still rocking. Some call it disembarkment syndrome when your mind is sensing movement that is no longer there.

My mind returns to the shore of the Grand Canyon, Poncho’s Kitchen, thick sand, rock ledges where the silent scorpion was ready to pounce on a moth that night. How it glowed white under Danny’s UV light and we watched it move in its own darkness.

what we cannot see
hidden in summer shadow
more than time and space

____________________

dVerse prompt on sounds of summer – most scorpions make no sound – saw my first one while camping on the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon

More Than

Remember the Day

My dad was on Okinawa when the atomic bomb hit Hiroshima.  He was a young sailor and rarely talked about his being there.  I never saw a photo taken there.  His wife was waiting in Iowa.  His children were future “boomers” after he came home.

In school I read about the war crimes.  About concentration camps and scientific experiments.  My short essay on “the mushroom cloud” over Hiroshima won a money prize.  Life went on for everyone except the ones who died.  

hear the winter wind

acid rain falling for days

folds night on the land

Remember the Day