Reading the news

Feeling kinda LOOPY,
Headlines seem so goofy
Can’t look at another GRAPH
Could we turn away and laugh
We ERUPT into confusion
We fall and take a bruisin’
What a load of TRIPE we say
Not sure if I can take another day

Georg’ann

Draped in TAUPE linen,
this ensemble having
almost become
some sort of TROPE
blending worlds
as she devoured
hominy, peppers and TRIPE
floating in an earthenware bowl.

Heather

TAWNY hair falls across a face, and suitors jostle one another for the privilege of being a LACKY. Skills learned EARLY in life – how to charm, seduce, entice; how to hide any PALSY of uncertainty. Face tilts up, lips part, low, husky voice – the whole exudes a BALMY heat that makes the air thick and heavy. A wonder to behold.

Georg’ann

DREAM of clear water
wide and deep
a single spotted koi
dive beside, body enters
splashless, at one with
emerge dry, seemingly
unchanged
wander rutted road, barely there
large puddles of mud
see rattlesnake in the rocks
caution without fear
move with respect
ahead a quiet cafe
settle in vine covered court
iced beverage, soft coral
pull out a postcard, affix a STAMP
glass and I sweat
air slightly more than BALMY
I hear muffled screams
then wake with a start
you in the next room
mid nightmare

Heather

I continue to grieve. I don’t know why I thought a one-day surrender to it would make it all okay. Don’t get me wrong – I am not in AGONY. It’s more like walking along and being surprised by a loose BOARD, by too much spice in the TACOS. Oh dear, that probably makes me sound a bit WACKO, or perhaps MACHO. Like I am denying feelings. No, that’s really not the case either – this is a grief over a loss that is small but complex. And no less tender, vulnerable, or real despite its smallness.

Georg’ann

TEARY time, open and flowing
like sweat glands at the SAUNA.
Purifying not quite the same.
Not seeking release,
VALID as it is. Truthfully
wishing for less to cry about.
Thankful I don’t have to hide
from the onslaught,
no burden of having been
conditioned as a MACHO man.

Heather

The house has been feeling, well, if not like a HOVEL, just a bit overly cluttered. It wasn’t that way to me yesterday. It is today. I can’t identify the EXACT moment when that shift in perception occurs. It sometimes seems like I can go overnight from being okay with a pile or two to sniping in a PETTY fashion at myself and everyone around, QUITE annoyed at the messes that (mostly) I have made. What had seemed minor suddenly is major. The good thing, of course, is that I get to enjoy the result. Therefore, tonight, you can find me, like a queen in her SUITE, surrounded by order and tidiness.

Georg’ann

Cannot CARVE a thought
from my block of wood brain.
QUITE a long day,
exceeding social capacity.
My SUITE awaits. Hot shower.
Fluffy pillows, soft sheets.
Nothing left to do or say.

Heather

I CRUSH the red berries
My fingers turn to BLUSH
I whisper SHUSH
To no one in particular

Georg’ann

Too easily ANGER comes.
BUILD walls, divide the heart.
COUCH loving kindness stitches
outward, complex tapestry.
Wistful to soften hardness.
To be cradled in warmth,
a mother’s soothing “SHUSH”.
Lips pressing softly into tendrils
as her breath kisses tenderness
through head, toward heart.

Heather

As children, we would play in the LOCAL stream. We were full of giggles and joy, as we would alternate between energy-filled play and quiet observation. STOMP our feet one minute, stop in wonder the next. At the FRONT of the line, the first to enter calmer waters often had the best vantage point. So it was on the day that Jimmy gasped and pointed – little fishes as glittery and iridescent as rainbow TROUT skittered through the water. We were as dazzled by the sight as if diamonds had suddenly been spilled into the water by unseen hands.

Georg’ann

GREAT feat to appreciate
the abundance of FRUIT
in the midst of pain and panic.
Thrashing like a TROUT caught.
Gasping for breath, longing
to be carried on currents,
swimming in clear waters.

It is not forgotten, there were
bountiful blueberries at breakfast.
A Banana for the little girl.
Cutting board sticky with mango.
An apple in the afternoon.
Bowl still ripe with choices.

Heather

“The PEARL – it must be here!” Frantically, she ran first a spoon and then a fork, and finally, her fingers through the giant pile of bowls, smeared with remnants of PASTA and sauce. The rest of the staff went about their business, ignoring the increasingly urgent activity of the new girl. Finally, a bus boy took pity on her and walked over. “Hey. Stop.” She looked up eyes a little wild. The bus boy calmly leaned in and said, “Was it Mrs. M. who told you that she lost something? Don’t be a PATSY. She does that to all the new wait staff.” Tears welled up on the girl’s eyes. “You mean…?” The bus boy nodded. “You should go get cleaned up. And welcome to the Ritz.”

Georg’ann

Let’s TABLE this discussion,
neither PARTY in agreement.
Each fears being a PATSY.

Heather

By some unknown QUIRK of fate, (or maybe just the hour), I found myself ready to be BLOWN about, pleasantly ungrounded, letting go of everyday travails, existential crises, and familial duties. I poured a cheap merlot, whipped up a batch of pasta, and contentedly munched and sipped my way through a meal. Now I sit on the porch, chilly, chilled out and content. I admire the WOODY stalks that will become heavy with leaves and flowers on our oak leaf hydrangea (WHOSE aspirational attempts to reach the sun are thwarted by the expansive linden tree nearby. I really should do something about that).

Georg’ann

On the TABLE
a plate of cookies
SWIPE a few
Then a few more.

Oh dear. Auntie,
WHOSE wrath is frightful,
will soon to discover
an empty plate.

Heather

A CRASH, cursing ALOUD
Swift, ADEPT cleanup
Order restored

Georg’ann

Mindlessly sipping coffee
at the kitchen TABLE.
This hub of everything,
the meeting place.
Entering conversation
you, a STEAK knife, poking.
I, a balloon, deflating.
Oh AGENT of despair
so ADEPT at disruption.
Equilibrium askew.

Heather

The wren flits, head tilts
exuding CHARM
The doves settle in fine
fettle, ready to ROOST
A pair of crows GRIPE
and chatter, what is the matter
Soon, the owl will arrive,
that DIVER of the skies
Oh, avian world, not
an IDLER on the spot

Georg’ann

GUILT had no bearing
her decision breezy.
She wrapped herself
around him, becoming
SILKY HELIX.
No IDLER in getting
what she wanted.

Heather

To be a GUEST
All prepared with care
Fancy BRASS bed
Candies and flowers
Treats and more
Ah, what BLISS

Georg’ann

BUILT blanket fort.
BLISS.

Heather

“I am not normally so clumsy,” the speaker continues. Christina points at a WEDGE shaped rock that was hiding an uneven spot in the soft earth. “I think this is the culprit,” she says. “Do you feel steady enough now?” “Yes, thank you.” The speaker pauses, then “would you be willing to help me over to my car? I am afraid my age makes it hard for me to ADAPT to this uneven ground.” Christina agrees. As they walk together to the elegant vehicle parked just beyond the churchyard gate, Christina resists the urge to make small talk. She hopes to be rewarded with a tale or at least an explanation. What she did not expect was to be BOUND to Ainsley Beaton (for that was this marvelous apparition’s name). It all began with Christina admitting that she was an interloper and did not even know the deceased’s name. Ainsley laughed, “Well, the Major would have liked that. He liked the unexpected and would have enjoyed having strangers at his internment. His family was always acting DULLY and boringly.” Now at the car, a smartly dressed driver came round and opened the backseat. Ainsley offers Christina a ride, which she is happy to accept. Climbing in next to Ainsley, Christina is struck by two things. First, a crest that is sewn onto the upholstery of the car. It appears to be from a DUCHY something or other. Second, there is a very dirty DUMMY on the floor, the sort that is used to train hunting dogs, specifically retrievers.

Georg’ann

In the morning meditations
on land and lineage. Followed
by gentle yoga for opening
or restoration. In the evening
SHARE playful yoga for kids.
Energized stretches, winding
like a CLOCK. Tic Tock.
Blow out MINTY fire breath.
Ride a BUMPY rollercoaster
hands in the air. Scary!
Curl up, hide in your shell.
Rest of the day be kind.
Never call anyone a DUMMY.

Heather

AWARE of the hour, the
SHANK of the evening
when golden light and
sharp shadows FLASH
across the floor, a jarring
CLASH between the clear
light and the worn
and dusty spaces

So, too, do I feel in this moment
a keen awareness of our world,
its brilliance and its flaws

Georg’ann

Here BOUND by fear
PLACE not often habited
CLASS stirs impulses
they CLASH within.

Heather

I made it through the day,
my SLATE of “to dos” now done.
My body sags a little, a sense
of heaviness hangs about me.
I MOURN — the passing of time,
another day older, all the things
that feel bitter and hard.
An ONION, some garlic, the bits
and pieces of dinner wait to be prepped.
Solace awaits in the KNOWN and familiar

Georg’ann

GROUP of individuals
weave and dart

In sunrise reflection
WHOLE is construct

I let go.
Cannot be KNOWN.

Heather

She was a PLAIN sort of gal, more likely to order a simple TONIC and lime (sometimes with a splash of gin, sometimes not). She wore DENIM well and with regularity, catching the eye of the astute passersby and ignored by the less perceptive. Those who knew her were a little in awe of her and called her the “GENIE of restaurant row.” She had earned this moniker with her remarkable ability to make magic for every restaurateur along the street into town, famous for its variety of eating establishments. Many a café, brasserie, or even diner, no matter their style, cuisine, or price point, had benefited from her magic.

Georg’ann

EXTRA person came to play
Entertained with her ukulele.
Soundtrack to the cloud show
slow motion on the big screen,
study in light, water, air.
Crystal CHIME reigned us back
from BINGE on sky drama.
Though GENIE is out of the bottle.

Heather

In the morning the merest TRACE will remain,
little bits of evidence, that WHILE the house
was still and quiet, I crept about like a little MOUSE.
A few toast crumbs on the counter, a used tea bag,
the cup still holding a few sips.
If you choose to see them, these clues will EVOKE
for you my restless night, my disrupted sleep,
while the heavy air and tang of OZONE
arrived before the storm.

Georg’ann

Oh DAISY, with reputation
for being fresh and delicate.
You, I would never choose
to GROUP in a garden bed.
No intrigue to your structure
Basic white petals to pluck
loves me loves me not.
No wafting scent of CLOVE.
Standing in perky oblivion
while OZONE settles in.

Heather

As the black-clad mourner tilts toward her, Christina struggles to maintain her balance in the close space. There is a TWEEN on one side and a gentleman on the other, so she does what she can to STALL for time and space. All in a flash, she manages to steady herself, the tilting elderly mourner, and not knock over the girl and the gentleman. “Are you okay?” she asks. A pale and PASTY white face looks up, encased in a black veil and hat, giving off a vibe both ARTSY and eccentric. “Yes, dear, I am fine,” the voice in a androgynous middle register, the speaker elderly, and strikingly beautiful.

Georg’ann

Awakened early
Truck brakes squeak
TRASH cans rumble
Tossed along the street
ARTSY urban scene

Heather

Standing in the field of my emotions, I am tempted to GRAZE at the edges, find small bite-sized bits to examine and integrate. I feel wary (and weary) of efforts to WEAVE the big feelings into a coherent whole. Won’t any effort to do so lead me on an endless CHASE for the impossible – turning me into an enlightened whole? That seems like more than I can do in this lifetime. That seems like something for my betters – you know, saints and geniuses and bodhisattvas, all things I am decidedly not. I am willing to dig in here and there, take my SPADE to isolated parts of this wild field. Maybe I can clear one single space and make a pretty spot in which to rest, sheltered amid a SPATE of my own emotions.

Georg’ann

Eyes GLIDE across the page.
Not reading so much
as a moving STARE.
SKATE over other’s thoughts
not engaging what I open.
Each morning brings a SPATE
of opinions, prose, poetry.

Some days it’s enough
to enjoy the chorus
of birdsong without striving
to identify an individual species.

Heather

DRAWN butter, rich and golden
On the table, little drips
create a TACKY PATCH.
Child’s finger dips into
cup of warm liquid,
too tempting to resist.
She offers kitten a taste and
giggles erupt at the result.

Georg’ann

No inclination
to RAISE chickens,
plant a PATCH
of this and that.
Hard work wrapped
in romantic notions.

Heather

The server said yes, she had heard the music too and supposed it was a funeral, over at the church. But she was new to the area and didn’t know much more. Yes, she confirmed, the church is indeed within walking distance. So Christina took a last bite of the deliciousness before her, settled her bill. She followed the sound of the mournful tune, surprised as it turned into a beautiful song. The voice now singing clutched a bit at her heart, stirring a memory of some sort. Walking towards the source, she turns a corner, and there is the church. A crowd in front, mourners, and a few stray people on the side. Christina joins those on the side, adopting an appropriately somber look. She catches snippets of conversation: “…would be so PROUD,” “hearing of this… SONIC boom,” “grew an unusual lily, … member of the ONION family.” The words swirled around her, not making a coherent whole. It feels a little like she’s prying, like looking over someone’s shoulder and trying to read their INBOX. She is about to go when someone stumbles, and she instinctively puts a hand out to catch them.

Georg’ann

Sushi held, we didn’t.

Centers of beet, carrot, cucumber.
Magenta bleeding into WHITE rice
held with dark green border.
We shared a FLAIR for creating.

Could have been perfect
MINUS his desire for a child.
I already had a masterpiece,
nothing more to give from within.

Playtime ended. Companion gone.
Long missive found in my INBOX.
Years later his regrets. Childless.
Mine a grown woman.

Heather

On the OUTER edge of the town, she took a moment to RELAX and linger over a CREPE. The tearoom was charming, just the kind of place you expect to find anywhere with “SHIRE” in the name. Indeed, she felt a little like a traitor to tradition, having something French instead of a good English scone with local butter and clotted cream. Guilty as charged, she thought with a smile, licking some chocolate hazelnut spread off her fingers. Focused on what was in front of her, it took a moment before she realized that she was hearing what sounded like a DIRGE. It seemed to be coming from not too far away. Catching the server’s eye, she motioned her over. This simple act was about to change the trajectory of not just Christina’s vacation but also a significant part of the next two years.

Georg’ann

Give EXTRA attention
color and form COVER
bare dirt canvas.
My favorite moment-
peachy pink columbine
with buttery centers rise
behind the speckled leaves
and periwinkle blues
of the Jack Frost Brunnera.
Soon rain will RINSE
stepping stones, tuck in
the newly planted.
Alleluia praise song rises
only from today’s DIRGE.

Heather

Such a WASTE, they said, as they STOOD by her grave.

Georg’ann

Your LAUGH soothes my spirit.
Letting go all POISE,
snorts and tears clear congestion.
On my SMOCK coffee spray.

Unlike the SNOWY night
when we STOOD side by side
catching snowflakes on tongues
and eyelashes. Delicate delight.
Lyrical laughter landing softly.

Heather

It was a bit of a DRIVE, but the dessert simply couldn’t be prepared without getting more FLOUR. We had been at the cottage for less than 6 hours. In the country for slightly longer than that. I sighed. “Hey, do you mind if we run to the store? I know it was hard getting here, and even harder to go out now, but i really can’t finish what I am doing without it. And there are probably other things we should get.” You give me a jet-lagged look. “Please??” You nod, grab the keys. We get in the rental car. “Watch out! Do you see that truck??” I hear you sigh. “LORRY.” “Excuse me?” “They don’t call them trucks over here. They are lorries.” “Huh. Sounds fancy. Or maybe like a parakeet, you know, those at the zoo. Lorikeets.” This elicits silence. And then, laughter. Then I start, and there we are, weaving down some narrow English country road, giggling about silly words, while trying to get supplies so I could make a cake that we didn’t really need, but seemed important, because what is vacation for if not to do ridiculous things and have adventures? I suppose the MORAL of that story is that sometimes the stressful moments produce unexpected joys.

Georg’ann

Government was WRONG.
COURT rules go all directions
none affect outcome.
Best BOXER can’t land a punch.
ROYAL screwups, no matter.
Lowest rungs of humanity
operating, no MORAL compass.

Heather

WHITE sheets on the line —
They dance and wave on the breeze
Carry them in and bring the FRESH air along
Bedtime will come and sleepy child
HONES in on the smell, a sense of
place and belonging that
will last until she is an ASHEN heap
scattered on those same bright breezes

Georg’ann

Oh my friend, what would I tell
of this MONTH, blending
seamlessly from last to next.
Arbitrary to call these days
a collection. Fast the slog.
No heralding. No sad goodbye.
Though the sun was recently warm.
Black garden cat sat on stone,
glorious SHINE to his coat.
My own skin ASHEN.

Heather

TOUGH skin on the mango
a protective covering
no way to catch a glimpse inside
touch and smell my only guides
Its yellow skin, enticing
I buy two mangoes
yearning for a way into
summer’s abundance
or, at LEAST, expand our options

Home, on the kitchen counter
they sit – these reminders
that sunny, exotic places do EXIST
far from our tentative spring
where waves CREST and crash
on tropical shores

Georg’ann

PAUSE cherry blossom
explosion of pink
FRESH dirt receives
your molted CREST

Heather

I FLOAT in possibilities:
the day seems LARGE and spacious.
I pick up goals and put them away;
ponder responsibilities and weigh them.
Perhaps this is a day made
to LAUGH and play; time enough
for work tomorrow.

Georg’ann

Morning mishap accepted
Origin for what I mean.
Porous comes from PORUS
Coming from is not
the same as being.

FUDGE!

What wants to be written
about tiny holes,
pits in sense organs
related to insects?

LAUGH!

Could exercise sleepy brain.
Pull in elements of nature,
of emotional state. Craft
myself as an iridescent beetle.
Potential there. Oh yes.
Right now senses want coffee.

Heather

I have BLOWN all my money on the PAINT. It has touched a NERVE in our relationship. Today will be spent trying to NURSE and cajole us back into equilibrium.

Georg’ann

SCALE thrown off balance
HOUSE needs maintenance
Eat cookies, NURSE wounds

Heather

Careful not to get anything on her DENIM at the START of the party, Sheila moved over to the ARBOR. From underneath the drooping wisteria, she looked over at Kylie, eyes focused intently. Kylie looked up, feeling Sheila looking at her, as surely as if an ARROW had been launched in her direction.

Georg’ann

Maeve climbed the rickety staircase at the back of a plain house off Kirkwood, heading up to an audition for some budget film being shot in the summer. Trying out was, for her, an audacious decision. Giddy confidence gave a certain buoyancy to her gait. There was no expectation and nothing to lose.

Later she’d look back and wonder about her judgement, going alone to a strange apartment where she was filmed by a man as he asked her questions about friendship and loss. That was how it always was for Maeve. She had an uncanny sense of personal safety.

In the end she was given a part as an EXTRA. Maeve’s onscreen presence showed her sitting alone on a park bench, knitting a SCARF. The brief shot was framed within a rose covered ARBOR. In the next scene a child runs by with a toy bow and ARROW. MAEVE looks up. Her head turns, as she and the camera follow the boy running exuberantly. Contrasting with the somber mood set before.

Heather

The soapy water works its magic, and things that were stuck begin to soften. I lift the next set of dishes into the sink. Remnants of food STICK to the PLATE like so much abstract art. I lazily scrub, enjoying the slippery suds and feel of the sharp forks, dull knives, and wide plates. It’s nice to be old-fashioned, not running a MOTOR or using electricity. I pick up the next plate, pushing the TROUT bones and skin into the trash. I hear through the window the roar of a lawn mower, the contrast to my quiet occupation as sharp as if a fleet of airplanes had started up, TURBO engines going full throttle.

Georg’ann

ROUGH patches abound
PROUD of efforts, many
moments, overlapping
OUTER self greets each one
Fueled by TURBO charged heart
Inner self ready for collapse

Heather

I am struggling to find a way into these words. No THEME leaps out at me, no imagery emerges. I cannot even figure out a way to CHEAT my way in, though maybe I have, as I diligently type these words on my phone. I stop and stare at my last word, then my mind wanders as I contemplate a slice of hot buttered toast. Getting the bread knife, I unwrap the loaf of fresh cracked WHEAT bread, the result of weekend baking, my mouth watering in anticipation.

Georg’ann

Craggy rock man rolls
cigarette. LANKY body
tan and leathery. Listening
to stories, my eyes
TRACE laugh lines,
patterns in stone behind.
Wiry hair, silver and WHEAT,
halos his warm face.

Heather

Trying not to SWEAR
Much better to SHARE
Stay out of the SNARE
I have time to SPARE

Georg’ann

FOUND a way to SPEAK
painful truths with care.
Then give SPACE for hearing.
Not always graceful, of course.
When done poorly
not a SPARE moment.
All consuming the effort
to find a gentle path back.

Heather

The SNAKE in the wild does not rise EARLY
The chill of the dawn keeps it hidden
But not so with the human viper
Our villains can rise with the sun
Brush off a suit, adjust a LAPEL, tighten a tie
Oh, so dapper, so suave, so debonaire
Yet still lurking in unexpected places
Behind a GAVEL or an executive desk
Not always in the dark, impoverished spaces
HAZEL eyes gleam out, coiled threat
Evident in every stance or move ”

Georg’ann

Cookies in the freezer,
on the counter cinnamon rolls.
EXTRA sweets from our weekend.
Today the sun returns, robins too.
Working to see abundance
as a new LEASE with life.
Instead feel nausea.
Sugar and shine only go so far
in times this BLEAK.
Known to be AGILE, steady
in extremes. Find center.
Store goodness like a CAMEL.
HAZEL eyes hold sorrow
while they watch this robin
tidy her nest. Beak holds
a slender dried grass.
Tucked into woven twigs
she waits for new life.

Heather

Feeling like they were being asked to TITHE, the weekend guests had to hand over their practical outdoorsy attire and replace it all with SILKY and swanky clothes. Their host, Alfred, insisted that everyone join in an elaborate role-playing game. The VILLA was the perfect place for it, and everyone loved Alfie and his cleverness. Nevermind that their teeth would chatter and that going out in the wet, chilly spring weather would be difficult. It would be a wild lark and that was all that mattered.

Georg’ann

Eva at three

Plastic pink high heels
a tiara nestled in ringlets
strands of plastic beads
soft pink apron over ruffles
gracious royalty greeting
neighbors with FLAIR
ALIVE with a sense of worth
subjects accepted assessment
all agreed it to be VALID
especially the servants
residing within her VILLA

Heather

Good grief. Why is it always so hard to find SPACE in this cabinet? It doesn’t need to be a lot of room. Just an area where I can put things. Sometimes, I wish for a fresh start, like a BLANK piece of paper where we can start over, where it would be easier to be orderly. I realize that we each have our habits, that thing we like to, if not HOARD, exactly, then have a backup supply of. I look at the stash of bandaids, the multiple tubes of antibiotic cream, and variously scented lotions. I turn my head and look over at the bag of sundries picked up from the drugstore. Turning back to the cabinet, my eyes land on the assorted cans of FOAMY shaving cream. Okay, I will start with these. Turning up my playlist, I settle in for a refreshing session of “clean out the bathroom cabinet.”

Georg’ann

Sandtray Training, 4/4/25

Little girl figure carrying
her HEART in hands
stands on the edge
not ready to enter.

Through silence,
taut with care
we cut her SLACK.
No urging to resolve.
Or encourage movement.

Entry comes, steps into center.
Finds shelter in the arch
of a FOAMY wave.

Heather

She stood at the lectern,
bad news she had to share:
“Let me be FRANK, our
oceans are BROKE almost
beyond repair. We threaten
the KRILL, a vital piece
of the food chain.”
I listen, and I remember:
“for want of a nail,
the shoe was lost…”

Georg’ann

At the end of the day
what was most wanted
was rest, a hot shower, mind off.
Then Bonnie made a request.
Will you make clementine cake?
It’s so MOIST. In my travel here
I remembered it, longed for it.

So I ALIGN my evening to please.
Tomorrow they will BUILD.
Psyches at work, a process
that can be as if put on the GRILL.
This sweetness I can provide.
Nourishing with citrus and nuts,
bright egg yolk golden yellow.
Contrast to these April showers.

Imagine us as KRILL, infinitesimal
in the vast sea of creation.
Pecking away, bit by bit,
unaware of our place in the chain.
Not ready to be swallowed.

Heather