Barbara's Meanderings

For anyone who hasn't read my other posts all of the poems you see here and the other ones for Days 1-14 are also posted on Poetic Asides for Poem A Day.


April 15, 2010

Write a deadline poem

Deadline Day

We’ve folded and placed in the envelope
all the details of our existence
gleaned from magical math that
finds my piddly earnings somehow
too large to refund my money

I have done this too many times
rushing to the crowded post office
envelopes in hand stamped and addressed
Needing to verify they will arrive at their destination
with certified papers assuring their delivery

Hurry it’s 11:45 PM. Will we make it by midnight?
We fly to the car and race, palms sweating only
to find a line. The clock ticks off the minutes as
I bite my nails to the cuticles. At last at 11:59 we
reach the overworked postal worker and exactly
at midnight hand over our year’s financial history and watch it
drop into the outbox.

Next year we’ll do it the day before to avoid the crowds we say.
Repeating last year’s line word for word. We open the door into the
lobby and go against the crowd formed on the outside. I feel like I just landed
on the moon and will float away with the happiness that has replaced
my angst.
copyright 2010 by Barbara Ehrentreu



April 16, 2010

Write a poem about death of some kind:

Questioning Death (loosely based on Emily Dickinson’s “Because I Could Not Stop for Death”

When my time comes will Death come as a hot
guy in a tuxedo holding champagne and roses
Or will it be like the slide at the amusement park
a swift ride down a steep slippery slope?

Will he smell of Old Spice, take my hand
and walk with me like a lover?
Whisper tender words as he touches the small
of my back helping me into the gold Mercedes
in which we will ride toward the light?

Will I recognize him or will he introduce himself
Placing his calling card in front of me?
Tap dancing down the ruby encrusted path
as family and friends see the light go out of my eyes?

Unlike Emily I do not wish this. I would rather hide in
a safe room with the only key than be seduced by that
tempter. I will barricade myself before one inch of me.
falls into his spell. I already have a love – Life.
copyright 2010 by Barbara Ehrentreu



April 17, 2010

Write a poem about any aspect of Science

Science Stumped

It happened gradually
His energy waned and suddenly in front of me
stood a man who acted like 87 not his true
age of 67
His voice changed, grew hoarse along with
his disposition the crotchety croak of an invalid

Science intervened with blood tests and the
doctors placed him in the hospital for more
tests to be prodded and pricked, drained and chained
to a bed with a catheter to measure the liquid.

The diagnosis too much calcium in the blood seemed a
simple fix so they IV’d him and sent him home. Their work
was done, the level went down, so home he went with
drugs and vitamin D. Again probed and examined by his doctor
They increased dosage still not finding the root cause

Armed with charts and results the scientists continued to examine
with no results. As science ruled out cause after cause searching
for the reason for his cough, his lack of energy, his inability to focus
What changed this dynamo into a mewling sheep needing to have me
put on his socks? We wait as science deliberates his fate.
copyright 2010 by Barbara Ehrentreu

April 18, 2010

To___________


To be a poet

If you listen to other people
The world is a different place for them
They ignore the beauty around them
In the growing grass they miss the bright yellow
dandelions and the rows of daffodils along the
roadsides. Each event they attend is seen on the
surface and not examined for images or emotions
Like my mind needs to constantly consider
Like the way the sound of the music reminds me
of a time years ago when I stood in a beer soaked
crowd with the smell of weed permeating the crowd
Lost in the sea of music and feeling like a piece of
a human ocean.

Or when I see the ocean its expanse brings me back
to the time when I spent an idyllic afternoon on the rocks
overlooking a cove on Long Island Sound
Or how the sun sparkled like diamonds on the choppy water
Or how the water had hues of aqua and green with a touch of
deep blue or how the horizon looked like someone drew
with purple charcoal on the sky

The face of a poet may not show the movies we show inside
for ourselves and try to express in words that never seem to
say what we have seen
Like a blurred photograph my words always seem to fall short
striving for the one word to bring it all together