Category: fiction

Littles or One Big

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Blue bowtie

       White kitty

Fabulous stunner

*

Vintage handkerchief

           Red embroidered

Lipstick print

*

Empty bottle

         Scent remains

Gardenia citrus

*

Pinot Noir

     Candles lighted

Lush kisses

*

Wool scarf

              Winter white

Wearing warmth

*

Magnifying glass

      Clue detection

Sugared fingerprints

*

Agility course

       Winning ways

Border Collie

*

Two raccoons

         One garbage can

Share share alike

*

Wool sweater

       Cashmere soft

Candy pink

*

Sugar maple

                  Sweet syrup

Buttermilk pancakes

*

Pink tulips

             Yellow irises

Baby’s breath

*

Two feeders

                Three bluebirds

One squirrel

*

Baker’s dozen

          Cinnamon doughnuts

Sweet delicious

*

Checked tablecloth

           Italian restaurant

Ravioli cannoli

*

I love pink!

   

              

More Places and Things

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A cobblestone street in

An Old Port

Town

A bar on that

Street.

Rosie’s. For beers, chili, cheesecake, and

Maybe,

Darts.  Or just dessert. Cool.

*

A Pacific Northwest Cape Cod

House. A New England

Classic

Among suburban ranchers.

No ocean beach, only

Roses and Rhododendrons.

*

A topaz bracelet. All cognac in

Color, but for one blue gem.

Standing out from the

Crowd. Woods alongside a tiny

Lake. Not gaudy.

Simply stunning.

*

Food of comfort

Pot roast.

Lasagna.

Lyonnaise Potatoes.

A cold winter evening. A good book.

Say,

A Tale of Two Cities.

Or one unwritten. A Tale of Two Portlands.

Write it yourself.

By candlelight.

*

A little calico kitty, named,

Amelie.

Not a place, or a thing.

A lovely, loving

Creature.

Around her neck, a little red heart

Tag.

A little silver

Bell.

Chime – chime, when she enters a

Room

I’m here!  I’m here!

*

A slender mercury glass vase

Containing

A single red tulip.

A bowl of butterscotch pudding with

Real Whipped Cream.

A mostly blue sky, Wedgewood.

Containing

A few clouds, Cirrus, cumulus, cumulonimbus.

*

Things to savor, places to love

Creatures to

Adore.

Sweetest kitty in the Universe.

Miniature Poems, Baker’s Dozen

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Water falls, soft

Love arrives, intense

*

Seconds tick away

Kisses touch passionate

*

Chickadee sings, joy

Bee works, prodigious

*

Acorns drop abundant

Hazelnuts pair with chocolate

*

Map itself, treasure

Locket holds heart

*

Strawberry shortcake, summertime

Cherry fruit, maneuvered

*

Book’s pages, turned

Word treats

*

Ripe peach, slurped

Sticky face

*

Clouds move, graceful

Snow falls, confectioners

*

Tulips, pink

And periwinkle

*

Red Corvette racing

Beetle black buzzing

*

The Three Musketeers

Tied Up In Tinsel

*

Don Quixote

Gone With the Wind

A Tale

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Diane’s friends compare her to Chaucer’s Wife of Bath

She thinks this is funny – it does not incur her wrath

Di says but the Wife of Bath didn’t have an orange vinyl recliner

That was made by the best Fargo North Dakota designer

She has four previous husbands though – number five’s name is The Fourth Earl McGrath

*

Diane pleases Early and he satisfies her back

But when it comes to household chores she cuts him no slack

Di likes everything as equal as can be

On that she’s lucky she and Hubby agree

And they love sweet Melville their terrier Russell Jack*

*

Early is a photographer and Di loves to write

Sometimes at night they collaborate by candlelight

Early has a small home office and Di has a picnic table out on the deck.

When they’re done they watch classic films and neck

One of their fave new(er) movies is Shrek

*

Di’s favorite flower is the Canterbury Bell

The pink ones are special and match their living room well

Both Di and Early can be quite bawdy

Every so often they like a good hot toddy

Di’s really brought Early out of his shell

*”poetic” license

White Canterbury Bells

A Pine Near a Pond

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My golden, Astrid, and I walk. 

Around Berry Park pond.

A puddle of mallards, a mama, five

Ducklings. They look content,

Unafraid.

Does Dvorak’s Water Goblin live

Here?

Beautiful music.

Also sinister,

Villainous.

Sunlight through the oaks.

Shadow branches,

Benevolent.

If Water Goblin here,

Capture by them is certain. If he rises,

He’ll be drowned, bereft of

Breath.

These trees are vigilant.

—

Astrid barks. I sigh. My mood ring flashes

Green.

What does this mean?

Memory is Trickster,

And I am getting old.

The ring is a long ago gift.

My summer birthday, a party of

Five.

Jessica, Ronnie, Maggie, Karla, and

Me.

All of us, twelve years.

This same park. A picnic. Up,

Late.

Light, long.

Just after dark, we saw a tree we thought

Magic.

A young pine, just three feet

Tall. Adorned with tiny blue fairy

Lights.

I asked why.

It was Karla who said,

There are no other evergreens near.

It feels decorated, special, like it’s

Getting a

Hug.

Karla is gone now So is Maggie.

We didn’t keep in

Touch after high school

Finished.

—

I feel a chill. My face is wet. Astrid and I sit

Under The Tree.

This pine is grown now, and strong.

I’m sure it wants

A hug.

Places and Things

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For warmth,

A red coat,

Woolen, cozy, surprising

White winter with its

Color.

Snowflakes sparkle,

At home on its

Shoulders.

Greet its wearer with glee.

**

Come summer,

A blue heron pair.

A koi pond filled just

For them, they

Think,

Statuesque, ancient.

Fish for their bellies,

Easy

Pickings.

Time to fly on – no challenge means no

Fun.

Cat watches from window,

Two birds she’ll not

Pursue. These are dinosaurs, not prey.

Where are the chickadees, the

Juncos? Just to observe, not

Hunt.

This cat chases only

Toys.

Her feline tonic and

Gin.

**

On the edge of town,

A little shack, painted orange

Sort of like in the Song.

A copper roof, not

Tin.

Weathered, not

Rusted.

Mischief and make out sessions.

Rendezvous,

Real fun.

A little Afternoon Delight, some Dream Weaving,

Lorelei Let’s Live Together, (when we’re older,

and no more Calculus.)

But, Love Hurts sometimes.

Crushes fade.

Love sometimes

Unrequited.

**

Three towns away, a little

Motel.

Also for assignations, couple’s

Getaways. Bigger than the shack.

The Pink Hyacinth.

Cotton candy pink, a cherry red roof.

Twelve rooms all in a

Row.

Free Cable, HBO.

Atmosphere, vintage.

Phones, analog. Though there is

Cell Service if you like. Four bars

If you’re lucky.

And the

Ponderosa Room Bar.

Bigger than the twelve rooms

Together.

People go, but no one admits to

It.

You can tell by the restroom wall

Phone Book.

For a good time, call.

Rome 10 is special, just so you

Know.

The keys to The Love Shack? No. The keys to a storage shed in husband’s and my backyard. 

Miniature Poems, Twelve

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Little word nuggets for this Thursday. Appetizers on this sunny day – no calories.  🙂

Sand, toes, mai tai

—

Windswept, watercolor, blue

—

Pearls, fountain pen, pink

—

Oaks, breeze, A Tale of Two Cities

—

Raspberry sherbet, summertime, blue linen

—

Library, Key Lime pie, a vintage milk glass candy dish

—

A front porch, a glass of lemonade, Sparkling Cyanide by Agatha Christie

—

Red gladiolas, a summer rain shower, Difficult Loves by Italo Calvino

—

a pink silk scarf, a bee hive, blue sky

—

A maple tree in autumn, apple pie, Persuasion, Jane Austen

—

A peridot bracelet, a slice of birthday strawberry shortcake, The Maltese Falcon

—

Lapis Lazuli, a towhee’s song, a gin and tonic

Myriad Things

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A single pond lily, on which

Dragonfly

Alights.

An anthropologist of sorts,

She studies

Me.

I’m no

Entomologist,

But I admire

Her. Where has she been in her brief,

Stunning

Life?

Will she be found in fossil form far in

Future?

Wings etched in limestone?

**

The word, beauty.

To many, many myriad things.

A kitten with amber eyes,

An amber necklace with a message,

Eeons old.

A tree of life that speaks a different language,

That maybe mourns lost

Friends.

Desert sands, artifacts revealed when

Wind moves dunes.

**

I wish a long dead author’s ghost to visit me,

Lord Byron, Emily Dickinson,

Tolstoy, Balzac.

How did they do it? The secrets and beauty of their minds.

Painters,

Monet,

Degas,

Renoir.

Was it Absinthe? The wine?

**

A bluebird in watercolor,

A painted bunting in pastels,

A raven in pen and ink,

Queen Anne’s Lace in amber.

Write, sketch, study so I remember.

So my ghost can tell

The Stories

**

Kidnapped

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Sometimes, I am

Kidnapped.

Likeliest, in

Summer

I have a thing for silks and slow dancing,

For snapdragons, and a song sparrow’s

Tune.

Stolen by my

Daydreams.

Words on pages, the laughter of a Murder

In black satin party dress.

They toast one another,

Salut.

Onward, they say,

Our flight leaves soon.

**

Sometimes, my heart, temporarily

Waylaid.

Also, likeliest on a summer

Day.

A dog walks with her

Person,

Tongue out,

Smiling.

All the smells.

My kind have passed here before,

Say they.

**

A strand of pearls.

I choose my day’s destination.

Ireland, Portugal, Italy, Peru

And I read my wishes.

I’ll land after the

Epilogue.

Home in time for dinner

And an excellent night’s

Rest.

**

Tomorrow.

Maybe to Colombia with Marquez,

France with Andre Gide.

Or best of all, England with Christie.

My favorite Murder might

Follow.

Dressed in black for

Adventure

**

Sometimes, I am

Kidnapped.

Ghost Honeybees

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A suspenseful tale, tells a crow,

A raven listens,

A treasure to be found.

Fruits of the hunt,

Savored,

Riddles, solved.

Brass buttons, worn silk

Ribbon,

Seed pearls, and tiger’s eye.

*****

Thunder egg,

Cut. Lines in stone make a

Map

Embroidered millennia

Ago.

*****

Blue darters,

Ephemeral.

A cabin?

Deserted, occupied?

Ghosts of a hive,

Walls dripping with honey.

On a solitary hanger, a tattered

Calico

Dress. Cherry red, black velvet trim.

Curtains, pink dotted Swiss at

Windows.

New in appearance, but is this riddle a

Deceit?

Out back, a peach

Tree, its fruit

Ripened to perfection.

Just one bite of one,

Nectar filled. Rest left for

Apiary’s Ghosts.

The buzz of their haunt.

Their sting, pleasure, not

Pain.

*****

A girl, fifteen, Elinor, spends

Sunday afternoons there.

She reads.

Ghost Bees tell their true tales only to

Her.

And she reads to them,

Austen, Dickens, Flaubert, mysterious Christie for good

Measure.

For Elinor, the Ghost Bees haunt the torn

Dress, mend it. Add some silk, more soft velvet,

In the color of honey.

The ageless alchemy of

Apis Mellifera