© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.
Text:
rain again
kicking off the blankets
reluctantly
This was written as part of a writing challenge. It was inspired by a poem, "Underwear", by Lawrence Ferlinghetti, who died last week. The title of my poem is a line borrowed from Ferlinghetti.
© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.
Text:
Underwear on Clothesline a Great Flag of Freedom
A long time ago, before clothes dryers,
there were lines of rope strung between
house and tree, or from one apartment
to a second one the next street over.
Underwear and socks were pinned
to the lines and seemed to benefit
from the time they spent in the sun.
There was hope that whatever stink left
after washers had done their job would
be replaced by the scent of clean, crisp,
fresh breezes. If the socks, briefs and
boxers, panties and brassieres could talk
they would have shouted. "Freedom!"
Those who put them back on would purr.
© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.
Text:
Prayer on the Eve of an Ice Storm
If there is to be ice tomorrow,
© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.
Text:
mid-February
longing for the first
signs of green--maybe
a four-leaf clover
2021 could be luckier
in more ways than one
© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.
Text:
pandemic persists
following headlights across
my bedroom wall
© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.
Text:
second storm in a week
shoulders still aching
she looks beyond the trees
to piles of snow that
will only grow higher
and last until spring
© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.
Text:
forecast of snow...
a mere dusting and a crow
would suffice
My thanks to Robert Frost for the inspiration!
© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.
Text:
a biting wind reminds
us, the years-long winter
will continue to loiter
we have to look closely
to detect the green
after the inauguration
Text:
U.S. Capitol
National Guard "invited"
to the inauguration.
Do they know with whom
they share a marble bed?
Will more than bread
be broken amongst them?
© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.
Text:
The Measure of an Inauguration
It's all about enumeration.
Do not look to count the angels
of our nature as they boogaloo
on the head of a pin, stipulate
that they reveal themselves
hovering overhead. Only then
may true numbers be tallied.
© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.
© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.
Text:
pandemic winter
hours spent on YouTube
hundreds of how-to
videos viewed
projects tackled?
nary a one
© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.
Text:
this song from the heart
may be all the work we do
...first morning.
The year 2021 is the Year of the Ox. There's a lot of hard work to be done to correct all the wrongs of the last four years, but I believe it can happen. First, however, it's time to tap our creative wells.