I have also posted some of my poems on the Downtown YA blog and there is also a post about Passover and how I celebrate it, if you are interested.
April 1, 2012 - Urgent communication
Bills
They lay in their glassine envelopes
taunting me with their placid outsides
When I gather them from the tiny metal
box where they are placed I have hope
that some of those envelopes will be
a chance for happiness and not the
numbing sameness of monotonous
figures depleting my small store of
cash for the glory of corporations
taunting me with their placid outsides
When I gather them from the tiny metal
box where they are placed I have hope
that some of those envelopes will be
a chance for happiness and not the
numbing sameness of monotonous
figures depleting my small store of
cash for the glory of corporations
copyright 2012 by Barbara Ehrentreu
April 2, 2012 - Uninvited guests
Uninvited Guests
After adding the juice of plump, rosy San Marzano tomatoes
to the simmering brown mixture filled with cuts of onion and
sweet garlic bits – me in those gray loose pants I wear for the
joy of being at home, stirring tomato sauce, tasting watching the
plops of red blossom around the pan on the snow white stove top
Sauce to the point of perfection, tasted and seasoned and ready
The glass bowl set near to catch the delicate spaghetti coated
with the luscious sauce waiting like a performer to begin the
show, we heard a knock, knock on the door. My daughter,
bowl in hand tentatively opened the locks and peeked outside
just a crack to see our uninvited visitors. He with the ready
smile and open face asked the question while his companion
popped up smiling too. My can opener, they needed my manual
can opener and I passed it to them a bond between two new
neighbors.
to the simmering brown mixture filled with cuts of onion and
sweet garlic bits – me in those gray loose pants I wear for the
joy of being at home, stirring tomato sauce, tasting watching the
plops of red blossom around the pan on the snow white stove top
Sauce to the point of perfection, tasted and seasoned and ready
The glass bowl set near to catch the delicate spaghetti coated
with the luscious sauce waiting like a performer to begin the
show, we heard a knock, knock on the door. My daughter,
bowl in hand tentatively opened the locks and peeked outside
just a crack to see our uninvited visitors. He with the ready
smile and open face asked the question while his companion
popped up smiling too. My can opener, they needed my manual
can opener and I passed it to them a bond between two new
neighbors.
copyright 2012 by Barbara Ehrentreu
April 3, 2012 - Two for Tuesday, write an apologetic or non-apolgetic poem
Wall of sorrys
After so many years the sorrys flow like a wall of water
too many and too few to fill the gaps of our days
We were inevitable, the force between us unbroken
and we moved ahead like logs in the river no boundaries
for our boundless love
knowing always the shelter of your strong arms
the pleasure of our shared moments
and it’s not my fault you turned away
my company no longer enough for your
selfish pursuits and I nurtured the seed of our
love watering it with my tears hoping it would
grow and flourish and become supple as it once was
yet your loveless glances continue and we bump
around in this alien world like boarders
only occasionally do I see the peek of light
in your eyes and I am sorry to see it for it
reminds me of the laser beams I used to know.
too many and too few to fill the gaps of our days
We were inevitable, the force between us unbroken
and we moved ahead like logs in the river no boundaries
for our boundless love
knowing always the shelter of your strong arms
the pleasure of our shared moments
and it’s not my fault you turned away
my company no longer enough for your
selfish pursuits and I nurtured the seed of our
love watering it with my tears hoping it would
grow and flourish and become supple as it once was
yet your loveless glances continue and we bump
around in this alien world like boarders
only occasionally do I see the peek of light
in your eyes and I am sorry to see it for it
reminds me of the laser beams I used to know.
copyright 2012 by Barbara Ehrentreu
April 4, 2012 - a 100% poem
Striving for 100%
We all do it
worship the number
pray for it
cry for it
stay up late forcing
words into our brains
cross our fingers
when the papers
reveal the truth
and we infuse
this desire into
our children with
their first attempts
rewarding with gold
stars those who
achieve the magic
number
while the stragglers
develop cement feet
and though they try
can never quite meet
the heights
they drop away to
find the easier route
gaining hundreds
for their limited attempts
forced to watch
the stars who soar
on the backs of their
100%s separated from
their talented friends
soon to be the haves
of the school.
copyright 2012 by Barbara Ehrentreu
April 5, 2012 - Write about something that happened before your time.
The Lost Boys
Grandma had a routine
when she visited her
husband’s grave
She stopped at
two small graves
on the other side
of this pocket sized
cemetery overwhelmed
by Brooklyn streets and
the sound of the el
She strolled over and
stood in front of these
tiny markers while she
and my mother recited
once again the same
story of how beautiful
they were and how
fast they went as the
epidemic claimed mostly
the young and left a hole
in the family and sorrow
still in the hearts of their
mother and sister over fifty years
later and I watched each
shed tears dripping on
the soil as both of them
found the tiniest pebble
to place on the top of
the stones.
when she visited her
husband’s grave
She stopped at
two small graves
on the other side
of this pocket sized
cemetery overwhelmed
by Brooklyn streets and
the sound of the el
She strolled over and
stood in front of these
tiny markers while she
and my mother recited
once again the same
story of how beautiful
they were and how
fast they went as the
epidemic claimed mostly
the young and left a hole
in the family and sorrow
still in the hearts of their
mother and sister over fifty years
later and I watched each
shed tears dripping on
the soil as both of them
found the tiniest pebble
to place on the top of
the stones.
copyright 2012 by Barbara Ehrentreu
April 6, 2012 - Write a poem about hiding or something hidden
Hidden Inside of Me
People see the calm and quiet
demure and together woman
who speaks in a low voice and
sits calmly in Starbucks,
vanilla skim latte in hand
but they don't know the
fire burning inside or the
anger waiting, peeking out
sparked in private and only
rarely, when it can no longer
be tamed, flames out in public
the fire voice strong and firm
takes no prisoners retreats
from no one
demands to be heard at the
slightest injustice
yet it stays hidden within
only appearing when safe
in the confines of my home
where the lion no longer
need be caged.
copyright 2012 by Barbara Ehrentreu
Until the next time, everyone have a Happy Passover and a Happy Easter and try to write a few poems for April. I will be having my radio program this month on April 26. I'm not sure who my guest will be. Also, check out my new guest appearances. I am now on Jane Richardson's blog: Home Is Where the Heart Is, The One Link Lowdown. Come over and leave a comment. Jane has really asked me some fun questions!!
For all who might be interested, the sales of my book, If I Could Be Like Jennifer Taylor are picking up and I have sold all the paperbacks I had. I need to get more. I sold them to readers who are my target ages, 10 and up and their reaction is super!! It's so great when your audience appreciates the book! One of my readers even got in trouble reading my book during a test! This was so unusual, I had to write about it and now it will be in Malta's version of Scholastic Magazine in May!! Because this girl was reading the book during a test everyone in the class learned about it and wants to read it!!
