April Poem: "Childish Things"

Childish Things

Station wagons

and Jell-o,

Lucky charms

and Kool-Aid.

Sesame Street

and long hot summers.

Peanut Butter and Jelly,

tuna fish sandwiches,

grilled cheese

and tomato soup.

Black and white TV

with no remote,

blanket forts

and castles made out of refrigerator

boxes.

Cinnamon rolls

and chili

in the Elementary School

cafeteria.

Bicycles,

the Roller Rink,

climbing trees,

the art show in Amon Park.

The library full of books,

magazines, and librarians

who said, “Shhhhh…!”

Where have these golden days

gone?

Only memory remains.

© Anne Westlund

prompt:  write an elegy

April Poem: "High Beams"

High Beams

My heart turns over

like a cold V8 every time

I see him.

If I could only get this beast

out of Park and into Drive.

We stall at intersections.

While horns honk and middle fingers

salute, I look over at him.

He shrugs.

He’s too old for this.

What do I have to do to get his attention?

The car alarm goes off, over and over.

He sees the red hair, the brown eyes, the paint job,

racing stripes.

He compliments me on my chrome rims.

Finally, a pulse.

I’ve got his attention.

Shit!

He’s lost in the headlights.

© Anne Westlund

prompt:  write a love poem or an anti-love poem

April Poem: "If I Were Smarter"

If I Were Smarter

I’d care about their bank accounts,

job security.

The women’s magazines, my mother, the TV talk shows

say look for status symbols, shiny trucks,

good shoes.

At the meetings I go to I only meet broken people.

After leaving the meeting I go back to my real life.

What do I find there?

Broken people.

Broken men.

© Anne Westlund

prompt:  “If I were (blank)”

April Poem: "Whaling Expedition"

Whaling Expedition

I ensnared you in my net, unwittingly.

I was looking for bigger fish to fry.

Instead, I head back from the deep ocean,

a sea turtle on the deck.

I decide to keep you for a pet.

You lumber around the ship slowly,

but with determination.

I do my best to untangle you from dangerous

situations

and conversations.

You watch me take notes, Latitude,

Longitude, wind speed.

“You have the handwriting of a serial killer.”

A harpoon leans against the mast.

“Think so?”

Always the last to know.

© Anne Westlund

prompt:  write an animal poem

April Poem: "Lost"

Lost

We go “to Town,” Aberdeen.

We go to the City, Olympia.

In a blue moon, we go to the Big City, Seattle.

Most days, I’m stuck in this Podunk town,

on the edge of the human universe,

as far west as you can go and still

be on the mainland.

I’ve made peace with it.

Found benefits to small town life,

even while missing the hustle and bustle,

the easy shopping,

the variegated restaurant options.

I’d be lonely there, same as anywhere.

© Anne Westlund

prompt:  write a city poem

April Poem: "The Key to Avoiding Rejection Letters"

The Key to Avoiding Rejection Letters

is not to send out writing.

Then you’ll never get one.

Never approach a publisher or agent.

Keep the novels, the stories

in a drawer, lock it up

and throw away the key.

Write your poems on napkins,

burn them in the fireplace.

Keep mum,

            when you should speak.

Never ask out anyone,

no matter how attractive.

You might get a door slammed

on your big toe.

You might just limp away in pain,

tail between your legs.

So worth it.

Worth it, all the same.

© Anne Westlund

prompt:  make a statement and respond to or expand on