Dead End

Dead End

If I broke down here

would it be so bad?

I've been in this dead end life

for way too long.

This small-town existence

has become almost comfortable.

Deer in the driveway,

flowers on the deck,

ducks in the puddle,

sunsets on the beach.

I always thought dead ends

were bad luck.

Maybe I was wrong.

May 13, 2016

prompt:  dead end poem

Hazard

Hazard

I know

                        I was supposed

to write

            a poem

but I'd rather

                        have a cup of tea

with milk

            and sugar

and listen

            to the TV

                        showing

TV shows

            in black and white

from the

                                    60s.

May 13, 2016

prompt:  haphazard poem

Important Work

Important Work

Is this my important work?

Writing poems.

Or is it loving people

where they're at,

who they're with?

Is it being a kitty

Mommy to little Leo?

Or is it praying

for guidance?

Looking for directions

without a map.

May 13, 2016

prompt:  important (blank)

Freedom

Freedom

I'm taking off

for parts unknown,

            tomorrow

            or the next day.

What holds me here,

            not quite sure.

Just a cat,

            a boyfriend,

            a family,

a bathroom that needs

            cleaning.

Nothing keeps me here.

Everything

            keeps me here.

May 13, 2016

prompt:  take off poem

Tableau

Tableau

No makeup

on a Friday night.

Here in my shorts

and top and Birks.

Not like a date.

He's eating Honey Bunches

of Oats with maple syrup

and milk for dinner.

I'm drinking tea,

dinner before.

Dog asleep in a chair,

Vic in another chair

with chocolate-mint

ice cream.

Beginning of a weekend.

I wouldn't have it any

other way.

May 13, 2016

prompt:  love/anti-love poem

Workout

Workout

Splashing from one end

of the pool to the other.

With obsolete skills I swim 3 laps

or 10, and call it exercise.

After,

a Jacuzzi and a hot shower.

Nothing more strenuous than that.

May 7, 2016

prompt:  exercise poem