My Green Velvet Life

Where everything sticks.



A Hole in the Box: One Shot Wednesday Poem

Thought I’d crawl out from my cold-gray-days induced hibernation and share my One Shot Wednesday poem.  Cuz when you’re feelin’ blue, no other color will do . . .

A Hole in the Box
 You let me wax.
Carnation Pink.  Blue Violet.
Gold and Sepia too.
You on the other page.
Outlined firmly.
Colored softly.
And Sipped Coffee (a color in my book).
Somehow growing up.
I colored my life.
Spring Green.  Magenta.
Midnight Blue.
Somehow growing old.
Still scribbling.
Granny Apple Green.
Now outlining.
Silver and Bittersweet.
Always looking.
Forever missing.
That perfect hue.
That Mary Evelyn Blue.


Know Any Sassy Queens?

I feel rude and one-dimensional lately.  I’ve been ignoring my blog all week, and here I am barging in with another poem.  I promise I’ll get better about not hiding myself.  This is just a tiny poem, which hopefully fits snug right into your overloaded day!

 Sassy Queen
Trails of frosted crystal
blow from green glittering breezes.
The great queen shivers and sings:
Flannels my butt!
I’m wearing diamonds to bed!

One Aboard: One Shot Wednesday Poetry

Yay! It’s already time for One Stop Poetry’s One Shot Wednesday!  This week there is no photo challenge or theme so I picked my own Photoshop creation.  This is a poem I did a few years ago so don’t go thinking I just whip this stuff out by the minute (could if I had absolutely no other responsibilities but would never wish for that).  If you enjoy poetry you really need to check out their site.  It’s fun to see what other writers submit.  Hint: writers love to hear from people (that’s you)!

I have One Shot Poetry’s link on my list to the right.

One Aboard
One Aboard
 I ride on images and yesterdays
A frequent flier beyond my years.
Searching.  Forgotten souvenirs.
I read instructions, maps of where to go.
What to see.  Squabbles of digi- lines
become my truth of shapes and signs.
I sort through flat attractions
to find bargain moments.  Memories
find my fingers like piano keys.
Bumpy rides home.  I shove trinkets–
the coins of love’s greedy toll–
down clinking pockets.  My catch-all soul.
I arrive at the station.  Quiet.
I hug the arrival of myself.
Crumpled clothes.  No time to unpack.
I am where I am, but now I’m back
stepping onto this noisy train,
saying good-bye to me again.

True Poems & Summer Flee

To see the Summer Sky
Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie –
True Poems flee–
                            — Emily Dickinson (1830-1886), American poet

August.  Most of our social demands start winding down.  No more graduation parties, softball games or weddings.  Finally, just maybe, a Sunday to hang out, read a book and let the kids get gloriously dirty playing outside till after dark . . . then . . . wham!  Back to school.  It’s already happened in some parts of the country.

I just want to know: Summer, where are you going?

A Willful Girl
Summer is a dancing flirt.
She throws loud parties and long naps
while crickets and frogs wink from the sill.
Summer got lost yesterday.
She forgot her candle, and left
us so many mosquitoes to kill.
Summer is forgetting us?
She took the wool blanket last night
and left us in snormonious chill.
Summer is moving away.
She took down her lacy curtains
and left the sun to burnish the hill.
Summer is saying good-bye.
But as she walks away, I know
she’ll drop her crumbs like Jack and Jill.
(oops.  like Hansel and Gretel.)

Make Room for Your Convictions

Words are the voice of the heart.  — Confucius (551-479 BC), Chinese teacher, philosopher & political theorist

Do certain words just rub you the wrong way?  I certainly I have my little list.  I cannot stand to hear one more person on HGTV say  “I just love what you did with this space”.  Since when did a room become a space?  (I suspect since interior decorating shows hit the big time.)  Are we too regal for a few cozy walls?  Is room a bad word?  Too plain?  Too corny?  Hey, I like plain and corny.  It’s solid and vivid. Space is just . . . space.

Here’s another on my list: window treatments.  I’ll try to be clever here with an illustration of my point.  I hope the spirit of Charles Bukowski understands that I’m not mocking him or his poem:

 Curtain Window Treatment
the final curtain window treatment on one of the longest running
musicals ever, some people claim to have
seen it over one hundred times.
I saw it on the tv news, that final curtain window treatment:
flowers, cheers, tears, a thunderous
I have not seen this particular musical
but I know if I had that I wouldn’t have
been able to bear it, it would have
sickened me.
trust me on this, the world and its
peoples and its artful entertainment has
done very little for me, only to me.
still, let them enjoy one another, it will
keep them from my door
and for this, my own thunderous
—Charles Bukowski (1920-1994), American poet, novelist & short story writer


And it’s not just words.  Have you noticed a common, spacey tone of speech in the last few years?  Taylor Mali has:

Speaking with conviction isn’t just about making speeches on important issues.  It’s about being yourself and speaking from your heart.  You can be strong yet respectful.  Colorful yet simple.  Use your own words.  Your own voice.  Your own tones.  The world wants to hear from you, not another space cadet.

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