• Watch Your Mouth

    we weren’t allowed to curse
    so she never did it herself
    always setting the good example
    whenever we repeated words heard…
    that we were forbidden to utter…
    she’d softly remonstrate…
    “now now now…watch your mouth”
    but I learned very early
    she had an exception
    if pushed to full annoyance
    (a rare event – she…Read More

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    • In our house it was the threat of having our mouths washed with soap if we cursed. And it only took one mouth washing to guarantee obedience to this rule. Very cool poem for day 7 of poetry month Willow -Curt

      • I never had my mouth washed with soap but my sister did once. I was always too afraid of getting in trouble to put a toe across any lines. Thank you, Curt

    • My cousin told me to say a word in front of my mother, and I didn’t know what it meant and I got slapped. Never said that again. haha at least not to her.

      • My mother swore all the time – redheaded temper. But she yelled at us if we did. Grandma taught by quiet example. I’m a veritable sailor mouth now, but then? Nope! 😂

  • Love Sonnet LXXIX

    As I glide smoothly across
    the ice, as the cold air assails
    my face, I feel like I am
    flying. Your face

    appears under the ice, staring
    up at me. You are smiling,
    your hands, upturned, reach
    toward me, inviting me to

    join you in the cold, wet
    waters of this dream. I
    fly faster, skates moving

    like a blur,…Read More

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    • I love the chill of this poem – if you’re not a fan of Kate Bush do listen to Under Ice on The Hounds of Love album!

      • Thanks HJx, for the sweet comment and for the the Kate Bush mention. I will definitely go listen. I actually do like the few songs I have heard from her. As well as her duet with Peter Gabriel on “Don’t Give Up”.

        • You’re welcome – enjoy Kate! “Waking the Witch” from the same album inspired me to write Heathen, the opening tale in Basque Love Stories. It’s here on Starsrite, too, live, featuring sensational young actress Isla Furl as Julia. Enjoy!

    • Such a vivid, haunting piece. I love how it moves from ice to fire with such ease. Beautifully done.

  • Sensory Memories

    “why are you so addicted to popcorn?”

    because on Saturday evenings…
    when I was small…
    (too young to know of more exciting things…
    like theaters and urban adventures)
    there was a table that became an arena

    where board games and Uno took over
    and we gathered as a family…
    no chores…
    otherwise idle…Read More

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    • Aw, I can smell the corn popping from here – a really atmospheric poem.

      • Thank you 😊 I make popcorn every week, never recapture those moments but it brings back the memories

    • Willow, I make the popcorn the same way your grandmother did, 3 quart pot, melt the butter and mix. But I must confess, the popcorn goes in a big bowl and I eat it all from there. Thanks for sharing the popcorn….er… I mean the poem. ;0) -Curt

      • There were a minimum of a dozen of us at that table. There would have been no room for a big bowl. I’ve never seen a bowl the size she used for the popcorn since then. I use an air popper but yes, it goes in a bowl and it’s all mine too. 😊

  • Conditioned

    Back aches
    Feet throbs
    Vision strain
    Headache driving one insane

    We came up with the saying “the tough get it done”

    I’m done…
    We as a society, on the whole
    Are charcoaled steak
    Extra well, with no tenderness in sight

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    • It does feel that way, done, charcoaled. But after last Saturday, I saw hope for many reasons beyond the numbers. But it will take more than a one and done approach. It will take sustained resistance, nonviolent activity, a refusal to obey the flames of abuse, and in our millions to stop the “grilling”.

    • Your poem rings so true, Fia,. Let’s hope that, one day, Society rediscovers tenderness, love, and caring about each other rather than all the squalid hatred, the foul judgement that has no place.

  • editin out the madman

    I catch him
    at the tip of my tongue
    right when he starts pushin thru
    jam him back down
    hand over my mouth
    til the noise dies off
    and what comes out
    sounds like the me
    they said could stay

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    • Sometimes though, staying is not what is needed?? Sometimes…. wait, my madman is loose, damn. Is this why I never get invited to any parties!!?? Sorry TwoFiftyThree, next time I’ll make sure the madman is left at home. Enjoyed reading your poem!! -Curt

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