Quadrille Monday #32

At dVerse Poets Pub, De is hosting our quadrille. A quadrille is a poem of 44 words exactly, not including the title and usually includes a prompt word. Today the word is “echo”. this is my last post for awhile as my mother is not doing well and I am taking a hiatus away from dVerse Poets Pub. Blessings on all of you. I will be seeing you all again next month. http://dversepoets.com/2017/05/08/quadrille-32/

Room 214
the elderly woman sits in her wheelchair
looking out the window at the birds
on the birdfeeder.
her mind is filled with echoes and shadows
of years, times, and people past.
her daughter brushes her hair.
voices echo from other rooms.
she drifts asleep.

Haibun Monday – the only thing we have to fear…

Today I am hosting the Haibun Monday prompt. It is on fear – fear of things, fear of being out of control, fear of losing loved ones, fear – primal and raw. Come join us today.

My Mother’s Daughter
Several years ago my mother began displaying erratic and irresponsible behavior. She was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Since then it has been a downhill road – she has forgotten how to walk, often forgets she has not eaten, has become incontinent. It is heartbreaking. Especially as my mother varies between paranoid, hostile towards me, and loving mother. My husband and I have no children. We did not get married until I was 49 and he was 39. It is just us and his mother who is starting to go somewhat erratic herself.

I am afraid when I look at my mother that one day, I will be sitting in a wheelchair, in her place. I will have no one to know or to care about me except maybe a nursing home. I kept her at home as long as I could but then one day, it became evident I could no longer care for my mother. Then I was afraid of the nursing home in which to place her. But praise God, she was sent from being in the hospital to a small nursing home with only 90 beds and ten minutes from our home. I can visit her often and have formed, during her stay there since January, friendships among the staff and caring relationships with some of the residents. But I am still afraid. My past fears of clowns, losing loved ones, spiders – pales in comparison to this new fear of Alzheimers. Alzheimer’s – one of the scariest words in the human vocabulary.

spring sky turns black – storm
begins and wind blows strong – hawk
flies against the wind

dVerse Poets Pub: Open Link Night 193

Today is Open Link night over at dVerse Poets Pub and people can submit any one poem of their choice. This week, Bjorn, “head” of dVerse posted a prompt on another poetry site. He is a physicist and so wanted people to write about time stretched, space time continuum, etc. How time changes. My mother is now in a skilled nursing facility. Time moves differently in that sterile place. a nothing event to us is an occasion to the elderly who live in the facility. Come join us at dVerse for the varied poems submitted this week: https://dversepoets.com/2017/04/06/openlinknight-193/

Bingo Winner
time stretches l.o.n.n.n.g
like taffy being pulled between
two people
time moves s.l.o.o.o.w.l.y
like a tortoise trying to cross
a busy highway
Listen – you can hear the seconds
ticking
T.i.i.i.c.k…..t.o.o.o.c.k
the old woman makes a ceremony
of choosing a prize from the cart –
she’s just gotten bingo!
will she choose the pale green
and pink decorated cake
or the green plush bunny
or the box of tissues?
the younger woman holding the prize basket
sighs and the old woman woman’s
hand wavers between the bunny and the cake.
at last she chooses the cake.
t.i.i.i.c.k. t.o.o.o.c.k…

Quadrille#27 Monday

Today is quadrille Monday and De Jackson is hosting the prompt. The word to use in your 44 word poem (not including the title) is giggle, giggles, giggling, or giggler. Come join us and real these wonderful short poems at: https://dversepoets.com/2017/02/27/quadrille-27/

Mr. Giggles

The old man is bent like a pretzel.
He has this perpetual Joker smile
a buzz haircut,
and is dressed in identical sweats every day.
His head snaps from left to right
Constantly – he giggles without stopping.
Even in his sleep he giggles.

dVerse Poets Pub: Quadrille Monday

Monday at dVerse Poets Pub, the post for Quadrille Monday will go live.  It is the first posting for the new year here at the Pub and we are pleased to have Bjorn hosting it.  He has chosen the word “curl” to include in your 44 word poem (not including the title).  So drop by at dVerse to read these wonderful short poems and to submit your own!  I am submitting two poems containing the word “curl”.

1.
the days have knit themselves
into a pattern of sameness –
an afghan in shades of grey.
like the winter sky and trees.
the elderly woman settles down to sleep.
the younger woman brushes the curls off
her forehead and whispers,
Sleep mama, sleep.

2.
I found out today where Nobody’s Cat
goes after I feed him in the morning.
I looked out the back way and
saw him limping laboriously
over the back lawn
crawling under the potting shed.
Brown leaves curl back onto themselves
not showing his passing.

Hiatus from Blogging

Hello all my dear friends.

I will be taking a brief hiatus from blogging.  My mother, who has Alzheimers and is in frail health, is in the process of being put into hospice care.  She also lives with me in my home so caretaking has been difficult.  It is a painful part of my life, watching my once vital, funny, and intelligent mother dying.   I will be back as soon as I can.  In the meantime, I wish you all happy holidays, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and many many hugs and blessings.  I imagine I will be back sooner than I anticipate because I love writing so very much.  In the meantime, your prayers and good wishes are earnestly needed.

Take care of yourselves.
Love,
Toni

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MTB: Make Music of Those Words

It’s Thursday at the dVerse Poets Pub and this Thurday, it is Meeting the Bar, which means we all write to a specific word, theme, form – given out by the dVerse Prompter. Today it is Victoria; a true lady, amazing poet, lover of her husband and their dogs, good friend, and most excellent prompter of forms or themese. Today she is asking us to write musically – to use musical terms, or a theme, or a concept – to turn our poetry, lives, experiences into music. Come join us!

New Music
today starts with the music of a
low tuned cello – slow, hesitant, dolorous.
No more lively forays into the forest
to play my violin,
to let my music dance through the trees
giving the birds something different to
listen to or sing along to –
now my days are filled with lonely hours.
No one calls,
no one visits,
no one emails.
My husband is at work.
I bake cinnamon rolls.
Now it is only my mother and myself
going through the same routine.
Routine is good for her and
doesn’t disrupt her memories.
Every day is a slow waltz –
it does get lonely.
but there is sweetness in the days as well.
a swirl of dolce de leche
in the bitter coffee of the day.
I watch my mother – calando.
The sun fades.

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