wearing bleakness like a blanket
at the end of a belligerent year
I’d like to yell don’t let the door
smack yer ass on the way out
or better yet good riddance loser
get the hell outta here already
Even the threatened ice storm
has fizzled to a bitter rain
and I’m sitting here over-maudlin
drinking coffee from all my beans
ground in case of power outage
cotton ball my new uniform
reading outright awful old poems
and writing new ones with titles
cribbed from word-a-day emails
Pathetic really
but at least the cat’s still on my lap
and it’s true I will miss our Garden 
of Promethean inspiration
mostly gentle critique
even the occasional melodrama
that gave fodder to salty poetry
This is beyond truth
more like canon the awkward feeling
that a part of me is about
to go missing with warning beforehand
A weird sensation
but apparently months of knowledge 
about end-of-year transitioning
has not inspired adaptation in my case 
and anyway I don’t know what to do
except to stay right here drinking coffee
scribbling doggerel and hyperbole
what did you say again?

Doing my salty best for the last prompt in our Imaginary Garden.
This is for Susie’s prompt featuring poems by Amber Rose Tamblyn
featured in Kerry’s Play It Again today.
Upon reviewing today’s offerings I’m a little sad to note a number
of these terrific prompts to which I haven’t already responded. 
But, I guess that means plenty of inspiration going forward.

**Long Live the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads**


  1. Long live salty poetry!!
    It has been one hell of a ride, Marian. Not one I would have contemplated without you, so here's to us, sister-poet. Three Cheers!

  2. My goodness this is piercingly poignant, Marian!❤️ I have so loved writing poetry alongside you over the years and have cherished our times together. Here's hoping 2020 will bring us more than we ever imagined. Cheers!!

  3. "our Garden
    of Promethean inspiration
    mostly gentle critique
    even the occasional melodrama"

    This made me laugh, in the best of ways. Because it reminded me of exactly what the Garden was: a place of balanced words, some incredibly harsh... all muse food.

  4. YES! I feel the same way about 2019. 2020 can only be better, right? We live in hope. I am looking forward to trying out all the prompts in January. Yay!

  5. May the poetry be salty and the coffee strong. I am so ready to kick 2019 in the ass, but there are those bittersweet things I don't want to say goodbye to. So glad we will find one another in other places. Blessed with connection.

  6. As long as the cat and the desire to put words together remains, then Toads still walk the earth, yes? ;-) Thanks for everything you have done for the group, and don;t be a stranger, ok?

    1. Of course! You think you can get rid of me? Hahaha, you're stuck with me :)

  7. I hope that there is still more salt to come from your pen... there are ends and there are new beginnings, and I hope that there are some good things to come... (but it can still get a lot worse I'm afraid)

  8. I think all of us come to our last Garden prompt feeling inadequate and burdened by so much good work archived in a vanishing pond. Durability is an uncharacteristic quality of the age, yet here we still are, refusing to leave. This poem sings the blues of having to put one's cat down or leaving a relationship and just not wanting to do it, not wanting to leave, not sure what's next. Raw and emotional and perfect for what we all feel seeing that open door before us.

  9. Word of the day today at dictionary.com
    FINITO [fi-nee-toh]
    Adjective. Informal.
    Finished; ended.

  10. As you know I read this on FB, and it knocked me out there--much more so on the second read--struck by how you have picked just that exactly right adjective or adverb (belligerant,Promethean,salty; worked in subtly your similes and metaphors--truly a unique and fine piece of writing,Marian, which also personally reflects our situation so that it makes me tear up. Finito, but also I hope, au revoir.

  11. I am a fan of these salty words and their crunch of truth. Goodness, the humorous candor made me smile even as my throat choked up a bit.

  12. Oh, this is good! This is exactly how this day feels. I wish that I had been able to put it into words so well.

  13. If I still had words, I'd still not know how to use them, either.

    You were always supportive and welcoming, Marian. Thanks for being kind to a wayward pote (sic.) ~

  14. Huge grin as I began reading .... by poem's end, gargantuan smile ... plus a few giggles.

  15. Your salty poem is perfectly seasoned to my taste. I enjoyed reading it as a stream of consciousness.

  16. Love it! May your sentences continue to run so well and your salt never lose its savour!


Thank you for sharing your thoughts!