Three prompts to which I matched tree short poems.

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RRWG Day 12 prompt #1. Uses for Smart Underwear

Seriously. Seriously?

Jungle warfare combatants removed underwear
for sanitation and health reasons before
going commando became a fashion statement
(panty lines notwithstanding).

People have been wearing undies for more
than six thousand years. Moses and Pharaoh
both probably wore tighty-whitie precursor garments.
Some religions have special undies. Dunno why.

Enter fart counting and odor analyzing tech-wear.
Thirty-six times a day without vibrations or penetrations
smart underwear collects gut info gastro docs want to know.
Other uses? Maybe, but I’m disinclined to write poems about it.

 

Prompt #2 (expanded): “Some people are born without hope (a theological state of spiritual separation from God). Others are born without doubt (an innate state of confidence, certainty, or purity, signifying a lack of hesitation or fear, often in the context of spiritual faith, potential, or personal conviction). Neither of those kinds of people matter a farthing, because their lives are already writ in stone.”

This is where the cheese gets binding,
when push comes to shove, when he told me
his father turned commie after a SOC course.

This is when the questions are more important
than the answers. Genes matter. Triggers count.
When it’s good to hope, it is also wise to doubt.
To live lives that discover answers and approach truth.
When we understand that to someone
even a farthing had value in their world.

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NaPoWriMo Day 12 prompt: Write a poem that recounts a memory of a beloved relative and something they did that still echoes through your thoughts today.

Aunt Lori

We called her Lori, but mom’s older sister was Delores.
Lori had a restrained sense of humor and was a devout Catholic
until Vatican II ruled restoration of unity through a Sign of Peace.
Lori, shockingly, stopped going to Mass. English was bad enough.
But shaking hands with strangers? She took a permanent pass.

Lori was strict in a good way. She wore a blue turban, glasses,
was curious, and lived her life exactly that way. She never married.
Of course, Lori was a bit quirky. She lived in Washington, D.C.
where she was a life-long typist for the Federal Government.

She, like my half-siblings, was a 2^nd degree relative
and a big part of my life, despite only seeing her on visits
via bus rides from DC to our town.

I will never forget, and it’s been over 70 years since, Lori sent me
letters with enclosures cut from DC newspapers: puzzles, articles,
and cartoons (sense of humor), her favorite to me
was Dennis the Menace who I must have reminded her of,
or vice versa.

Look both ways at people in your life, past and present.
Mind the gaps when mining for perfection.
It’s love that counts. Memories keep them alive.