Hello all! Last night I participated in an Open Mic Night in conjunction with the Oklahoma Arts Conference that took place here this week. The evening was completely enjoyable, and I was very glad to see old friends, meet new people, and make important connections. I thought I would highlight the four poems I read last night in a single post. All of these are, or are about to be, on my Poetry and Fiction page also. Enjoy!
Maybe It’s Monday
When you can’t get a kid to get off the bed,
when you can’t find a shoe or a sock,
when the windshield is frosted and the steering is dead,
and the bread is as hard as a rock,
when the cereal’s gone and the milk’s gone too,
when the cat leaves a mess on the floor,
when it’s 8:25 and it’s time to be there
and the kids are just now out the door,
and friends need some money and cars need gas
and you’re sleepy and tired off your..
well, you know.
Odds are there’s one simple reason for this,
why everything turns out this way.
It may be your luck or it may just be fate,
but more likely, maybe it’s MONDAY!!
Growing for years,
Beginning to be established.
Life is the Ultimate Gardener.
I am Cut Down and Brutalized.
I am nothing but a Stump.
But after successive Springs
gradually New Shoots grow.
New leaves to disguise
A little guidance; I am Wired.
I am smaller.
A more compact version
of what I was.
But more deliberately shaped
I am an Art Form.
8-11-10 10:35 a.m.
Roaming through the countryside,
Acres of parched fields,
Or lush green crops proudly thriving,
Somebody’s sweat and blood and tears.
The world is quiet
Until history begins to speak to you.
For everywhere you look,
The past comes alive.
From the gnarled tree-branch fence posts,
Since some sturdy old farmer put them there,
To the gray, abandoned shacks
Along the way,
Each with its peekaboo roof and sagging porch
Ever so slowly disintegrating
With the passage of time.
Once someone’s pride and joy,
Perhaps the culmination of their dreams.
Rows of ancient cars and trucks,
Fine old machines from an era gone by,
Where young men on back roads tested their fates
And young ladies in back seats determined theirs,
Now reduced to rusted out shells.
The world as it once was
Stirs, gives itself a shake,
And comes forward to greet you.
DD 8-9-02 6:10 pm
Under a table hides a young boy,
battered and beaten a broken toy.
Across the room a mama cries,
the hurting, the hitting, the pain in her eyes.
Between the two survives a bond
for love and forgiveness to build upon.
Around them both the empty walls
the echoing silence, the desolate halls.
Beside the chair where the mama weeps,
a bottle of medicine that helps her sleep.
Nights stretch endless when she can’t NOT think.
In desperation she picks up a drink.
And in the morning her little son begs
for biscuits and gravy or bacon and eggs.
Behind the fridge door there’s nothing he wants.
His hungry eyes taunt her, his wailing voice haunts
Until she can’t take it, endurance worn thin,
her hand lands the blows again and again.
He runs for a safe place. She drops into a chair.
Again her heart shatters for the pain they both bear.
Desperate to hold him, she calls to her boy
hiding under the table, like a broken toy.
But he follows her voice and she clasps his small form
and clings to her child, the lifeline in a storm.
Through tears she says she’s sorry and that she loves him so.
He snuggles closer to her and says, “Mommy, I know.”
DD: 08/23/11 9:07am
And this is one I wrote yesterday but didn’t get to read, which I wrote for all the new friends I have met in the last few months since the beginning of my involvement with Ardmore Little Theatre.
Theater People are Friendly People.
Because you never know- that girl you talk to, while standing in line to buy paint for the next big monster set designed by possibly masochistic crazy men…might just be the next big star.
And speaking of Monster Sets-
Theater People are Achy People.
Entire weekends spent climbing ladders, bracing studs, steadying walls, standing bent double with a drill in hand, and painting all day on your knees…is as good a workout as any you can get from a trainer!
Theater People are Hurried People.
Because that monster set, with all its painting and leveling, wiring and plum-lining, has to go from bare stage to showplace in three weeks, and back to bare stage in one night! And lines must be learned, and blocking changed, and costumes discussed and it all must happen immediately if not sooner!
And speaking of too many things to do-
Theater People are Drowsy People.
After working all day at “real” jobs like managers, teachers, and secretaries, Theater People show up to devote hours to rehearsals, construction, learning lines, and staying up all night texting because they just like each other that much.
And speaking of liking each other-
Theater People are Flirty People-
Working closely, often too closely, with Big Egos, Applause Hounds, Spotlight Whores, and sometimes the quiet but surprisingly passionate character who observes from the sidelines, what starts in the theater…doesn’t always STAY in the theater!
And speaking of Staying in the Theater-
Theater People are Devoted People.
Because despite being friendly and hurried and achy and drowsy and flirty, there is always drama and comedy, and tension and dissention, but stage bios are 30 years long, friendships are measured in decades, and hugs are distributed freely, because Theater People…. Are A Family!
DD 10/22/2013 10:20 AM
Thanks for reading! Until next time,