Music of a Fallen Year

Rain on the roof.
Water strumming down eaves,
ants strutting single-file,
snap of nitrile gloves,
steam rising from black coffee.
Skyward maples,
shadows pattering on glass,
entering and embracing.
Not a small amount of terror,
over-loud laughter rising.
Come to bed.

Grapeling’s final Get Listed for 2014 included these words: music, fall, water, glove, steam, shadow, embrace, rise, bed


They Say Love Won't Pay the Rent

It’s a quarter till dawn
and the sky above the nativity
glows iridescent black-blue
like the backdrop
of The Sonny & Cher Comedy Hour
Here they are, the first family
Baby Chastity
played by a studded tire
(because the baby Jesus was stolen)
Here they come a-caroling
I Got You, Babe.


Heroes We Have Heard on High

Snorting their astral
saxophones, exhorting us
to bend in supplication
like solemn boughs laden
with adoration, bowed
but not breaking, we sing
their glorious refrain
in starry harmony, cowed
and waiting for the coda.

Late entry for Kerry’s word substitution challenge, Christmas Special Edition!


Another Cavalcade of Seasons and Songs

Fold the year’s pain
into renzuru--
everything you lost locked
in the heart,
head full of yearning,
like showy tailfeathers,
all your melodies memorized
in the wings.
Keep your crane of ghosts
and minor chords
creased in your notebook,
carry it with you,
stashed in your pillow for dreaming.

For my Real Toads, inspired by Kevn Kinney’s Broken Hearts and Auto Parts


The Storied Rose Glasses

like onion skin
stings like hell
before inevitable

But in dreams
washed in pink
& it’s your waves
lapping at my calves

Inspired by Hannah’s prompt to the Real Toads: LAKE HILLIER


Shut Down Due to Ice

Forgot coffee
on counter apples
in drainer feverishly
navigating roads slick
with worry concerning
apples of your cheeks
flushed fever-red
never noticing red light
rode late night only
your argument perfectly
too late to respond
having forgotten black ice
just how slick you can be.

For Mama Zen’s prompt to the Real Toads: HOMOPHONES


This Writer's Process

Write every day for a month,
then stop. Don’t write for one day,
two days, then a week. Take a break,
all the while admonishing yourself
for lacking productivity. Curse,
but colorfully: Jesus Christ
on a bike, I am lazy as shit,
and even less talented. I give up.
Then start writing all over again.

True confessions for Flash Fiction 55 at Real Toads!


This Week in Poetry

On Wednesday, all the Cool Cats will be hanging out at the Thirsty Mind in South Hadley, MA. If you are local or in need of a sanity-saving between-holidays road trip, see you there! It will be wonderful fun.

Having actually pulled off writing a poem every single day in November, a task about which I had much doubt at the start, I am feeling pretty good. Mama might just have her groove back!

It’s never too late to make a contribution to Center for New Americans to acknowledge this feat, if you are so inclined. A gift of any size will be very much appreciated by yours truly, as well as by this great organization and the people it serves--the newest members of our community. Click here:

Thank you, Gentle Readers, for being here and for all your love and support. Carry on creating!
Marian's 30 Poems in November fundraising page