cronechronicler

Exploring the poetry of everyday life

Futuristic Cart Washing

I set out for the grocery
Gray clouds were like lead
Till I rounded the corner
And saw something ahead
In front of the building
Grocery carts stood in line
Dutifully waiting, but for what?

Parked by the curb
Was a long white truck
Underneath streams of water
Flowed down toward the street
Engine noises most rattling
Unsettled my ears
What can this be?

Oh, I thought gleefully
Here’s something new
They put carts in the truck
And push them right through
A canyon with showers
Spraying dirt off with speed
A travelling cart-wash indeed.

My delight was short-lived
When I spied the fat hose
Attached to the truck
Prosaically spraying
The assembled carts
In the model of itinerant
Carpet cleaners.

Written in response to the Daily Prompt: Droll

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On The Occasion of James’ Sixteenth Birthday

Joyous celebration of life in your very being
A spark of creation I hold dear
Making me proud
Energy abundant
Strutting in the Marching Band

Helping me fix Eggs Benedict
Always fun to be with
Running to give me a surprise hug
Tuesday in the parking lot

I LOVE YOU

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Senryu: A Revelation

Charmed by the brief form
Inspired by life’s happenings
Wrote many Haiku

Then I awoke to
Expanded definition –
A “human” Haiku

Perfect description
Poetry I’ve been writing
Instead is Senryu.

With appreciation to Colleen Chesebro who teaches me good things

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Breaking Camp

Summer is slowly pulling up stakes
Bombarding acorns ping loudly
On iron patio tables
The weather grows chilly
Heat for the pool turned off for the season
Time for our word game to move indoors

Dear Belle who’s now gone
Kept our things in her closet
Pillows that cushioned the hard iron chairs
Red bag of stones that held down cards when the wind blew
Now need new lodgings until summer returns
Cards stay with us to play word games inside

As a call went out for winter storage
I searched my apartment and found just the thing
A shelf high in a cabinet I cannot reach
Empty and waiting to be filled with the promise
Of summer and joy of word games with friends
Also  memories of the season just passed

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Sea-scapades: Part Two

The sand has its own challenge
I found as I sat in my chair
Low to the ground and comfy
Not so when it’s time to arise

My legs do not work in close quarters
Needing more distance to stand
I dug with my heels like a turtle
And carved a big hole in the sand

I rocked forward a few times
Until I was almost launched
Caught my balance and stood up
A bona fide victor at last.

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Sea-scapades: Part One

The ocean was quietly rolling
Wonderful day at the beach
Memory of past times beguiling
I walked straight into the surf

Confidant I could still do it
I waded still further  out
Wave one and wave two I maneuvered
Wave three was a total rout

I landed flat backwards and splashing
Legs waving high in the air
My son saw me flailing, gave me a hand
Eventually I was upright

I cannot describe my sadness
To face up to this simple loss
I’ve played in the water since childhood
Now I am like a beached whale.

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Saying Goodbye

Belle died at noon on Saturday
She left in peace with family around
Her ninety-seven years a testament
To life well lived and loved.
A friend to us who knew her well
She left a vacancy not soon filled

This morning the swimming pool is blue
Sun and fair skies foretell a lovely day.
Belle loved the pool in Summer
And sunning on the patio in Autumn
When falling leaves transformed the color scheme
Before Winter sent Belle back inside.

We played our Scrabble-like word game Royalty
By the pool or in the Party Room upstairs
Belle was the queen who beat us all
At forming words some of her own creation
She seemed to pull letters out of nowhere
To fashion words sometimes bizarre.

Belle is gone and yet I see her everywhere
Dressed in her Thriftique classy clothes
Speaking out to bring justice to the world
Celebrating Seder with generations of her family
Including us as her adopted relatives
Teaching us the ropes to vote absentee

Belle has been freed from suffering.
It was a grief to see her bowed so low
My heart rises remembering the wonder
Of the very special person that Belle was
Now living on in vibrant memories.
I did not know loss could produce such gain.

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Strange Grief

Two husbands I have put behind me
Two marriages spent in years that equal half my life
I did not grieve exact dates of their ending
I do not grieve today their rich existence
Divorce, for me, resulted in mixed blessings
Quite a different shade of grief

My weddings both were days of joy
Expectations of forevermore
Promises to ensure our future
Constancy in good times and in poor
Lovely dreams spun from an illusion
Not accounting for realities ahead

Living showered me with gifts and challenges
A fifties girl whose eyes were opened wide
Even now I feel the swell of my adventures
Surging through my heart with every breath
Grief put aside I count my every blessing
Beginning with three sons and my grandchildren

Becoming an independent woman
Economic struggles trained me well
After trial and error I discovered
Life as a solitary is not half bad
Lately I received my gift – the poet
Who lives within me and who is my friend.

Many couples married or unmarried
Share a special precious golden bonding
Create a unit multiplying love
I grieve such a companion to grow old with
Not finding this for me I made a choice
I grieve – but I do not regret

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Legacies Passed Upward

Once upon a time I was mother of three sons
Fathers now who between them have four more
And two young daughters.
I never gave a thought to reaping
After youthful sowing bore its fruits.
Grandmothers receive gifts
Bounty never dreamed of.

One son recently shared the story
How he  taught his son to shave.
Another son passed on the news
Son’s camp counselor summer job
Included learning leadership
Sharp skills to serve him well
In the wider world one day.

Two younger sons, cousins
Surprise us all with expertise
Creative eyes see like engineers.
Another son, the one who shaves
Is showing signs as a musician
Following his father’s dreams.
The little girls still lovely mysteries.

Mothers blessed become grandmothers.
A further generation bearing treasures
Returns its priceless gifts to me.
I watch my sons now fathers
Shape their children lovingly
Guiding them into a future
Unrevealed but which offers hope.

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Recycling

My AC is broken, not cycling cool air
On this monstrously hot day
Sweat doesn’t cool but reminds me
I’ve a talent to reclaim

Long hot southern summers
With no air conditioning.
A back yard with pecan trees
Taught me how to catch breezes.

I sat by a window not moving a muscle
Getting lost in book-reading
Words were my magic carpet
Fanning  air as it flew.

Today by my window
Oak tree leaves transport me
A slight wind brings coolness
Settling round my feet.

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