This world is a terror stormwith sweetness and beautyat its heart. Lived and embraced(and fought) terror can be turnedinto words that grow wings.Melancholy isn’t always bad,in ink—it’s safe practice for living.I believe I can.So, I willink, inkink (and stitch) horrorsinto armor.
for Poets and Storytellers United (Writers’ Pantry #22: Onward, June)
In the old days, customers were becoming
store scum, leaving a thin thread of thick hatred,
virtually dueling for toilet paper.
In the old days, random kindness
spread like a needed plague, infecting
friends and strangers, reclaiming humanity.
Post-apocalyptic fiction is now current events.
- the title and the last line of this Sevenling (thank you, Ron.! And you were right about the addictive properties of the form) came from a meme the NYC Public Library sent at the beginning of the pandemic—I guess if was sort of funny… way back then.
- for Poets and Storytellers United (Weekly Scribblings #21: Anagrams. Where a stunning [and rather modest] hostess invites everyone to write new poetry or prose using anagrams—a word, phrase, or sentence formed from another by rearranging its letters. I chose customers/store scum and hatred/thread.
“Look deep into nature, and then you will understand…” – Albert EinsteinArt-filledmagic growsout of weepingwillow trees and wildhearts.
Inall thisdarkness, the familiarlush of a hyacinthshines.
In de-light,the dandelionsees her dark.for Poets and Storytellers United (Writers’ Pantry #21: Change of Plans)
“And all the winds go sighing,for sweet things dying.”– Christina Rossetti
“Your heart breaks and breaks, when you have to be the one calling someone to let them know they should speak to their loved one on the phone before they go on a ventilator. In the air, the unspoken words always scream, “Tell them that you love them. You might not get another chance. And love should be known.” – Grief Counselor
Seemingly emptybedsides are kept full by hearts,singing, You are loved,you are loved, you are so loved,and you will forever be.
I stood in line in front of the hospital, doing my best to stay six feet away from someone who felt the need to scream into their phone. I was listening to a book, so ignoring the noise wasn’t difficult. Then the phrase, “useless pricks handing out masks and sanitizer” pulled me out of the story.Caught off guard by the speaker’s lack of respect for people risking their health and lives so that we risk our own a bit less, I found myself facing the person, and saying, “Wow!” very loudly (I blame my loudness on my headphones *cough*).The person ended the call and took a couple of steps towards me. Her face was flushed. For an insane second, I thought I was about to get punched right in the face mask. But no, the individual simply said, “I know, right?” and went on to explain why the hospital staff screening patients at the door were a “plague of useless, socialists getting in the way of things.”I looked past the speaker, stared at the nurse taking people’s temperatures, and said, “The world is just full of useless and ungrateful assholes.” The person actually nodded, as if I were agreeing with them (Some people’s children!).The nurse didn’t smile or wink, but I think her eyes softened above her mask.for Poets and Storytellers United (Writers’ Pantry #20: A Name by Any Other Name Can Be… Confusing)
Yes, I will always feel you. For love is energy, and like the purest magic, “energy can neither be created nor destroyed—only converted from one form of energy to another.” But no, no physics (meta or otherwise) can predict the future shape of our feels: only words and acts tell.To feel me,love, just rememberours is oneHeart no one but uscan tear to pieces.for Y, my favorite physicists in the whole wide world (and the mad soul who dared me to turn the law of conservation of energy into something magical and romantic)linked to Poets and Storytellers United (Writers’ Pantry #19: Birthing Hope)
A month or so ago, I read an article that said “YOU are your safest sex partner”. My first thought was, Sure, especially if you’re hygienic about it. After a few chuckles (what can I say? I have the sexual humor of a hormonally overactive teenager) and further reading, that proved the article was not a joke, I began to think, I guess they might be on to something.Then, my eyes glimpsed the headline, “Masturbation is all the rage in New York City through the coronavirus pandemic”, imagined the expressions the statement would put on some faces I know, and I began forwarding the link while laughing like a maniac. The poem bits that follow were inspired by my more serious reaction to the wonderful piece of pandemic street art accompanying the article.
via Loveknows barrierscan’t stop knowingwhat true love feelslike.true love knowsbarriers can’t stopus lovingour love knowsbarriers can’t stopknowing lovefor Poets and Storytellers United (Weekly Scribblings #18: Art (and turmoil, it seems) Begets Art, birth words inspired by Pandemic Street Art from around the world)
