Linda's Poems

Random Words for TOP

2009-07-17T06:46:00.001-04:00

Totally Optional Prompts suggested we use the following words in a poem. I managed 3 out of 4: black mice, durien sherbet, a rust storm. blinking lights

I peek
out my bedroom
window
to see his back-up
lights blink on
and his truck
leave the driveway

before getting
out of bed
and turning
on my computer,
a blue sun
in the middle
of the foggy
morning.

Then words
like black mice
scurry across
my screen

and the rust storm
of dry regret
becomes dust

that I can blow
away with the click
of a key

or save
as a document
of a mistake
disappearing
in red taillights
through the gray mist.

ABC Wednesday: Z

2009-07-15T10:59:00.002-04:00

It Begins with Z

I can’t resist
a dare.

It’s 1962
and I’m thirteen
at 4-H camp
in Allenstown, NH.

Competition night.
Another girl
from my hometown
challenges anyone

to say the alphabet
backwards. No one
can do it so she wins.

Fast forward one year.
The same girl
offers the same
challenge.

I’ve been practicing
all year and am ready,
“ZYXWVUTSRQ
PONMLKJIHGF

EDCBA!”
My turn to win.
The other girl
sulks back to her seat.

3WW: Drip, Hypnotic, Sulk

2009-07-15T08:00:00.001-04:00

Berlin High School Junior Prom 1966

My Prom date
was such a drip.

Tall, skinny, and blond,
not even cute.

Tongue-tied and sweaty
he held me loosely

while we danced
to horrible band music

that floated around us
in cracked notes

then got stuck in tissue-
paper roses.

His eyes were hypnotic
in their blue blankness

and zombie-like I followed
his shuffling steps

all that boring night,
all the way to 11 o’clock

when we left and went
to his nerdy friend’s party

where there wasn’t even
any booze. On the way home

I sat in the cloud of my pink
gown sulking because

this long-anticipated night
had turned out to be as flavorless

as water. I don’t even
remember his name.

Monday Poetry Train

2009-07-13T20:14:00.000-04:00

I saw time
this July morning
on I 95
between Saco
and Biddeford, Maine.

In the middle
of a bank
of lavender clover,
a clump of brown-eyed-susans

staring at me
through autumn
eyes.

I rolled
my window
up against
the chill.

Fireworks for TOP

2009-07-09T11:49:00.002-04:00

I went to ReadWritePoem and used their prompt generator to get 5 five words that I hoped I could produce some sparks with: willow, pell-mell, swerve, pleat, cedar. It didn't really work all that well, but this is what I came up with, anyway.

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As I swerve
into my sixties,
I can feel the steering
wheel of my life
shuddering.

The scenery
is changing:
leaves falling off
the weeping willows,
cedars bending over.

The road feels like
it is pleated, now.
I bounce along,
hoping I never have to
shift into Park.

3WW: Gloom, Kneel, Transparent

2009-07-08T09:07:00.000-04:00

In Spite of the Gloom

Oak leaves
as big as hands
shine as if they’d
been painted
with polyurethane,

Fog, transparent
enough to see through,
settles like kneeling
parishioners in the pews
of pine trees.

I sit
inside the yellow sun
of our camper
typing letters
into words,

linking words
into sentences,
then watch as they
braid themselves
into this poem.

Weather for TOP

2009-07-02T16:25:00.000-04:00

I hear the Morse Code
of raindrops
on the roof
of our camper

tapping out a secret
message. To my husband
it says, “No fishing for you!”
To vacationers

here on the coast of Maine
it says, “Too bad you spent
all that money for this.”
But to me it says,

“Time to curl up
with Bel Canto and read,
time to write a poem,
time to sip a glass

of merlot and feel
the velvet spread
like the fog draping
the trees in gossamer.

3WW: Sweet, Yearn, Collapse

2009-07-01T21:03:00.001-04:00

My brain has been on vacation! Sometimes I just need a break. Here's a little cinquain.

When I Yearn

Barefoot
I walk along
the mirror of low tide.
The problems of my day collapse.
Sweet peace.

Abecedarian for TOP

2009-06-18T08:12:00.000-04:00

She sits on the sofa
sometimes all day

and traces my movements
to and fro
through the tired afternoon

until the umbrella
of evening unsheathes
its shadow over us

and I’m verging on violence.
I love my mom
very much and treat
her as tenderly as my Nonie
took care of her African violets

but wearing away
by doing nothing
wears on my world.

So I offer her a glass
of wine and we play
a game of cards
which she wins

in exceptional excellence
and my xylophone whining
mellows out.

The soft yellow
of the dining room light
bathes us in butter
and instead of yelling
my frustrations at her

I laugh and enjoy
the buzz, the companionship,
and the zippity-doo-da
of being in mom zone.

Yard Sale for TOP & The Monday Poetry Train

2009-06-13T07:53:00.001-04:00

A father and son
play baseball
in their yard.

Every time the boy
hits the ball
a dog chases it

then they have to chase
the dog. I slip
this image

into my word bank.
A scrawny woman
sits on her porch,

cigarette dangling
from her lips,
watching ragged kids

run around her messy
yard, the butt bobbing
as she yells at them.

I add her to the piggy bank
getting heavier
by the mile.

A fine, muscled specimen
of maleness
is mowing a lawn

shirtless, all bronzed
and chiseled. Another
shiny coin

of detail slides
into the bank.
I continue driving

my eyes eating up
every morsel.
When I get to camp,

I’ll break the bank open
and write a poem about
the human yard sale.

3WW: Dangerous, Keepsake, Restless

2009-06-10T21:39:00.001-04:00

Ants in my muscles~
feels like dangerous spasms,
keepsake of old age.
RESTLESS LEG SYNDROME
Keepsake of old age
feels like dangerous spasms~
Ants in my muscles.

3WW: Folly, Ordinary, Hostile

2009-06-03T18:33:00.001-04:00

Sunlight eases itself into my classroom
and wraps around the students
sitting obediently reading Antigone.

The word “folly” is mentioned
several times describing
Creon’s disastrous decisions.

The person reading inevitably
pronounces it as “foley”
and I can feel myself

getting hostile. I think
What is so hard about this word?
Dolly, Molly, golly, jolly, Polly.

But folly becomes foley
like holy or holey or wholy
and I just want to scream.

Instead, I look at the morning
making it’s way over the bent
heads of the kids, turning them

from ordinary to golden
and swallow the annoyance.
“Good job! Thanks for reading.”

Song Lyrics for TOP

2009-05-28T20:37:00.002-04:00

Every Friday I play a song for my kids and pass out the lyrics, too, so they can follow along and think about them. Last week, the lyrics were so simple and superficial so I said to them, "I could write better song lyrics than this!" I tried. Well...it's not that easy!
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The Wedding

Our friends were getting married
And we fought about the gift.
I suggested silverware
But you were for a fifth.
I rolled my eyes and shook my head;
I’d never win, of course.
We were going to a wedding
And heading for divorce.

You sat beside me in the church
But left a space between.
I listened to them say their vows
And swallowed down a scream.
I wondered why you hated me
I didn’t know the source.
We were sitting at a wedding;
I was thinking ‘bout divorce.

Later at the reception
In a silence filled with ache
You stayed on the other side of the room;
I thought my heart would break.
Then I heard them play our song
And felt you touch my back.
We danced and every movement
Put us more and more on track.
Our love was stronger than your fury.
It rocked us with its force.
We were dancing at a wedding
And forgot about divorce.

Worry for Sunday Scribblings

2009-05-22T21:55:00.000-04:00

Did you ever have anyone
hand you a glass of wine
in an expensive wine glass

thin as a skim of ice
on a pond? You hold
that stem like a delicate

rose. That’s how I feel
about my mom, now. I
love the wine, but

the container is just so fragile
that I’m afraid she’ll break.
I hug her as gently as possible.

3WW: efficient, optimize, treacherous

2009-05-20T06:39:00.002-04:00

Waterfalls of change
are treacherous. I paddle
with efficient strokes.
OPTIMIZE MY CHANCES
With efficient strokes
I paddle through treacherous
waterfalls of change.

Poetry Train

2009-05-18T17:42:00.002-04:00

Today in Poetry-writing class I had my kids use nouns as verbs in their poems and this is what I came up with.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Tulips are poeming
out all over.

I see their lines
against stone walls

in a multi-colored
rhyme scheme.

Clumps of them
sonnet gardens

while straggler haiku
dot lawns.

Tulips are penciled
on the green paper
of spring.

Tardiness for TOP

2009-05-14T18:15:00.003-04:00

I don't know about you but I've been dry, dry, dry since the April poem marathon!

Tardiness
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I sat down to write a poem
then popped up to turn
the dishwasher on, instead.

I came back to the computer
then remembered that I wanted
to paint a journal page.

Afterwards, I poised my fingers
over the keyboard
and typed, “Tardiness”

then made the broken line
underneath. A ding
alerted me to new email

that I just had to check
right away. I noticed
that the ivy was drooping

so got up, again, this time
to water the plants. Finally,
here I am writing this non poem.

3WW: Bicker, Nervous, Trajectory

2009-05-13T17:53:00.000-04:00

We bicker, we fight.
The trajectory of hate
is a loaded gun.
TOO MAD TO BE NERVOUS
of your loaded gun,
trajectory of your hate,
bickering, fighting.

Poetry Train

2009-05-11T19:21:00.001-04:00

As the blue sky
knows nothing
about stars,
so am I a stranger
to you.

You see the person
you want
me to be: a white
fluffy cloud,
harmless.

But I am
the night
cloaked in the darkness
of secrets,
each of my stars
a hint
to the me
I really am.

Healing for Sunday Scribblings

2009-05-09T15:43:00.001-04:00

A Voice

My mom started
talking again
last week.

It’s not much
more than
a whisper

but it is a
softness so
welcomed.

For months now
she’s been
mouthing words

and we’ve been
frustrated
lip-readers:

one of the sad
side effects
of cancer.

Hearing her voice
now is like
winning a

hard-fought
soccer game:
Mom-1
Cancer-0

Cheers.
Whoops.
Smiles.

~Linda Jacobs
Oct. 5, 2004

3WW: Cryptic, Flash, Malign

2009-05-06T18:01:00.003-04:00

The flasher opened
his coat to show off his cryp-
tic manhood. I laughed.
MALIGNED
by his lack, I laughed
cryptically when his coat o-
pened. The flasher frowned.

Poetry Train

2009-05-04T20:46:00.000-04:00

A Bed

My bed has a head-
board where I hoard
chapstick and Bic
pens to write to friends.
It holds in its folds
a nail file I’ll
use when I choose
to fix, while I’m watching flicks,
my nails.

And if I fail to fall
asleep at all
I can read a book
or take a look
at TV. It’s free.
Or do a puzzle
and maybe nuzzle
if I must. It’s just
a great place
to be. Lucky me.

NaPoWriMo Day 30!: Exercise for TOP

2009-04-30T16:13:00.001-04:00

Just a short one today. I'm poemed ouot!
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My jeans
hang on the clothes line
running in place
squatting,
doing front kicks
and back kicks
to the wind’s
exercise video,

knowing this is the most
exercise they are going to get.

NaPoWriMo Day 29 and 3WW: Opportunity-Service-Quarrel

2009-04-29T18:21:00.002-04:00

Just Another Slap in the Face

I got home late
today,
fatigue dripping
from my shoulders
like a backpack
slipping to the floor.

I leave it on a hook
in the closet
along with my jacket,

so happy to forget
about the quarrel
I’d had with my fourth-
block kids.

I’d taken them outside
for Journal Writing,
the weather summer nice.

But several of them
decided to take advantage
of the opportunity
to stay out, enjoy the sun,
after I said it was time
to head back inside.

They tiptoed
into the classroom
late, eyes big,
knowing they were
in trouble,

knowing they’d
let me down,
knowing I’d never trust
them again.

Finally, I was home,
time to relax,
write a poem,
blog,
and check the mail
for a letter.

But what was in there?
A bill from
Public Service of NH.

NaPoWriMo Day 28: Red

2009-04-28T20:19:00.004-04:00

He’s been working
on his new motorcycle
in the cellar
for months, now.

This one started
as old Harley parts
that were just begging
to be assembled.

And that’s what
he’s been doing
one puzzle piece
at a time,

sanding and bending
and swearing
and slowly
it began

to look like
a real motorcycle,
a 1952 panhead.
A couple days ago

I asked him
to help me
fix my Xyron
sticker machine.

He examined it,
got a perplexed look
on his face,
said he was sorry,

and gave it back to me.
Then he went outside,
got his tools out and adjusted

the points on his bike.