Poetry Friday--"My Coffee Maker"

Here's an original poem for today based on a coffee maker! (I won't say I'm balmy, but I do think I'm leaning that way.)

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.

Text:

My Coffee Maker

My coffee maker,
a gift from a friend,
would signal the completion
of its task with five rhythmic
beep...beep...beep...beep...beeps,
until, less than a year later,
it stopped its beeping
--cold turkey.

How I missed the sound!

Six months after that,
brewing finished, it issued
a single beep.

Now, it will, on occasion,
beep...beep...beep...beep...beep,
or, issue one lone toll.

Most of the time, though,
silence.

Like an old friendship
its coffee may not be as warm
as it once had been.
Yet, like an old friend,
my coffee maker can coax
a smile on the most
random of days.

Donna at Mainely Write will be hosting the Poetry Friday Round-Up, be sure to stop by!

Haiku Sticky #444

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.

Text:

state of the union
to watch or not to watch
--no question

Happy Haiga Day!

I couldn't resist a little punning for today!

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.

Text:

so unexpected...
this sound of breaking grass

Poetry Friday--Women's March 2018

Last Saturday I joined millions of women, men, and children who attended the second annual Women's March at locations across the country and around the world. Instead of going to Boston, I stayed in New Hampshire and attended the march in Portsmouth. The powers-that-be in Portsmouth thought the crowds would be too big and so they took away the march part. A gathering with speeches and the Leftist Marching Band had to suffice. And it did. The march was covered by Seacoastonline.com and is found here.

The spirit of the women was infectious and I was pleasantly surprised to see so many young people. Here are a few of the photos I took:

So inspiring! I wanted to write a poem--and I did. It turned out to be a poem I had written many times before. I rolled my eyes as I reread it.

I began again. I thought I'd try to do something different--a metaphor here--a twist on a word there--but, if you try too hard, it shows. I realize that both my rejects were didactic ("didactic" from the Greek didaktikos meaning "able to teach") However, I even failed at didacticism since the only one I was able to teach was myself. Here's the lesson I learned: do not write didactic poems!

I needed to go back to the essence, yet a haiku or senryu, wasn't big enough (3 lines). I could have written a sequence of haiku, or a tanka (5 lines). I ended up with a cherita (6 lines).

All photos and poem © Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.

Text:

women's march

melting snow
beneath their feet

melding objectives
clear as the sky above
their heads

If you have time to spare, please watch the video from the march that took place in the birthplace of the women's rights movement, Seneca Falls, New York. Or, browse through The New York Times photos of marches from around the world. Both are pure joy!

Please stop by Beyond Literacy Link where Carol is hosting the Round-Up.

Haiku Sticky #443

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.

Text:

gray day...
the librarian posts
a rainbow

Happy Haiga Day!

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.

Text:

record lows...

children's knit hats
crackle! spark!

wisps of hair
frazzle and fall after
their brief flight

Poetry Friday--Haiti

Last week I was incensed, and embarrassed, by the racist remarks of someone who holds a position of leadership in our country. I wanted to climb on the roof to yell an apology to the people of Haiti and those in the 54 nations of Africa. And, also, to the world at large, which before November 2016, may have believed the United States to be a beacon of freedom, justice, kindness, and, a place of refuge.

Many librarians and writers on Facebook, feeling as I did, reacted by posting lists of books about Haiti and other nations, diversity, immigration, etc. One book I saw mentioned a number of times is a slim book of poetry titled Haiti my country: Poems by Haitian Schoolchildren, illustrated by Rogé, with translations by Solange Messier.

The poems paint a picture of a country that no way resembles the vile description so glibly spoken by the POTUS.

Here is one:

Everyone is fine in this rustic setting
Where we can lie out in the shade of the coconut trees
Savouring the pleasures of the golden fruit on the mango trees
Away from politics

From the azure sky scattered with small white clouds
Arises the morning sun
There, where no evil exists
We live peacefully

That's where we find genuine life
Where we breathe in clean air
Where cabins surrounded by beautiful greenery
Embellish the multicoloured flowers

Ricardo Jocelyn

Beautifully rendered illustrations of the fifteen young writers, and their teacher, accompany the poems.

My copy of Haiti my country will find its way to a nearby classroom where a number of Haitian-American students attend 4th grade, but it will not be enough to atone for the sins of MY COUNTRY. For that I am sorry.

Here's a little therapeutic poem from me:

trumpery
[truhm-puh-ree]

Noun

1. something without use or value; rubbish; trash.
2. nonsense.
3. obsolete: deceit, fraud.

1. Trumpery
--this wall
he wants us to build.

2. Trumpery
--this OTHER-ness
he tries to make us fear.

3. Trumpery
--this empty man
full of delusions.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.

Take A Journey through the Pages to find Kay hosting the Poetry Friday Round-Up.