Haibun: Neighborhood Music

For Carrie’s Sunday Muse #48

Haibun: Neighborhood Music
“Time is the longest distance between two places.” Tennessee Williams, The Glass Menagerie

Mrs. Williamson was a crochety old woman. She had a thousand sets of collected salt and pepper shakers, windows hung with handmade lace, and a hand wound old Victrola up in her bedroom. Sometimes through the neighborhood you could hear the scratchy music winding through the neighborhood. “You can bring Sal she’s a real nice gal but don’t bring Lulu” or, “He was going down the grade making 90 miles an hour, His whistle broke into a scream, He was found in the wreck with his hand on the throttle, Scalded to death by the steam”. The wreck of the Old 97 was her song when she was melancholy and sipping on sherry. Of course she died, in the midst of 1950’s rock and roll and bee bop aloo-ing whining. She left me her Victrola and half of her salt and pepper shakers because I would play with them when I visited.
summer nights seem empty
without the sound of old songs –
stars fall from the sky

Haibun: Dr. Samuel Beckett

For Kim’s prompt on Real Toads, Nomenclature, how things get their names. What a fun and lovely prompt!

 

Haibun: Dr. Samuel Becket
“I believe cats to be spirits come to earth. A cat, I am sure, could walk on a cloud without coming through.” Jules Verne

He was tiny, his eyes barely open. He was an orange marmalade tom and he wobbled as he walked about in the box where we had put him to be safe and warm. When one of us would enter the room, we would call softly, Baby! Baby!.and his tiny mews would drift up out of the box. I walked over and looked down at him. He looked up at me with his blue baby eyes and suddenly, he jumped and tried to climb to the top to reach me. I laughed, and reached down and picked him up. Well Sam Beckett, you did a quantum leap, didn’t you? He remained Dr. Samuel Beckett until his life ended 14 years later. I was his human and I loved him dearly.
to me life passed quickly –
to my cat life passed slowly –
too soon our time together ended

*Quantum Leap was a TV show in the 90’s starring Scott Bakula who was a physicist studying string theory.

Haibun: Smudgy Moon

For Real Toads, Margaret’s picture prompt of retro-paintings and for OLN at dVerse Poets Pub.

Haibun: Smudgy Moon
“She had a beautiful laugh which was like rain water pouring over daffodils made from silver.”
― Richard Brautigan, Sombrero Fallout

Yellow in the sky. Is it the moon setting or is the sun rising? The trees are a smudged backdrop to the moon. Birds are twittering, a distant dog barks. The flowers in my yard bloom boldly in the half-darkness, reflecting the moon.
daylight savings time –
daffodils don’t care about time –
they bloom in their own time

Truth is Empowerment

Truth is Empowerment
“I’m never a reliable narrator, unbiased or objective. Anthony Bourdain”

This poem speaks truth,
it does not imagine something.
it does not say,
this is what I imagine addiction,
murder, prostitution, or farming to be like.
This poem opens its mouth and says what really happened.
my mother told me years ago:
always speak truth, never tell a lie.
color it some if you must, the way you
color a page in a coloring book but
never tell a lie.
I was in a spelling bee and ended up
facing off a 5th grade boy.
He couldn’t spell “psychology”.
I spelled it correctly. I won a big blue ribbon.
I took it home and told my mother
I almost didn’t spell it because I liked the boy,
he had always been nice to me.
That is when she told me to always be truthful
my father nodding in agreement.
So years later when a lover gave me a wakizashi
I was proud. He taught me how to wield it.
Once I used it to defend my home when someone broke in.
My husband did not say,
you could have killed yourself.
He smiled and hugged me.
Truth is empowerment.
A sword is empowerment.
Spelling a word correctly is empowerment.
Truth is empowerment.
This poem speaks truth.

Sunday Muse #47

Sunday Muse #47 Posting also on Poets United Poetry Pantry. Also on March 27, the Sunday Muse will expand to the Wednesday Muse with prompts. Sunday Muse will remain Pictures.

I Hate St. Patrick’s Day
“You can open for me the portals of death’s house, for love is always with you, and love is stronger than death is.” Oscar Wilde, The Canterville Ghost

In the same month of the same year,
My grandmother, father, and grandfather
had all died.
By St. Patrick’s Day
three of the people I loved dearly were dead and buried.
I hate St. Patrick’s Day.
And as I am neither Irish
nor Catholic,
I only love the natural greens,
the greens of trees, grass, birds.
Sing me a sad song birdie.
Sing me a sad sad song.
Today I will wear blue,
the blue of my loved ones’ eyes.

Flowered Flourless Cake

For Magaly’s Prompt on Real Toads, using homophones.

Flowered Flourless Cake
“Your body is not a temple. It’s an amusement park. Enjoy the ride.” – Anthony Bourdain

This quote comes to mind whenever I cook something –
decadent, stylish, awesome –
few things are more satisfying
than a flourless cake
frosted with dark chocolate ganache
and decorated with real flowers
especially on a spring day –
I prefer flourless to gluten free,
especially made with ground hazelnuts
and almonds and a lovely shiny ganache.
Placing the flowers about is such
an easy and joyful task!
Decorate your temple on the inside.

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

For Shay’s Friday Prompt…Ask a question The question is from one of my favorite books ever by Philip K. Dick. It also spawned two of my favorite movies – Blade Runner and Blade Runner 2049.

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?
Gaff: “Its too bad she wont live, but then again who does?”

Do flowers dream while they sleep
curled up in cold winter’s soil?
Do cicadas dream while waiting to hatch
seven years hence?
Do birds dream as they sit on their nests
waiting for their eggs to hatch?
Do stars whisper secrets to each other
as they glide in their courses?
Is the moon sad when she goes dark
and reflects not the sun in her darkness?
so many questions I have.
Yet no answers do I receive.
I beg the sky, the night, the dew for answers.
Yet no answers do I receive.
Do Androids dream of electric sheep?
Only Philip K. Dick knew the answer to that.