Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt

Sammi’s Weekender #367 – Party

What Matters?

I envied parties.
Younger me wanted something,
or was it concern about missing out?

My last party,
a high school graduation overdone deal
for a grandson, with whom,

I exchanged five words.
People I didn’t know,
went mostly unnoticed by me.

Many lacking in the social graces
except for some like me
so many names with unfamiliar faces.

I talked to his other grandfather,
and to my twin step-granddaughters
who seemed to like me better,
after thousands of words, I felt likewise.

Small intimates are for me now.

Look both ways because the life of the party is not who it once was.
Mind the gaps when you soberly tell me about your life and what really matters.

Sammi’s Weekender #362 (classic)

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Classical Folk

Telling me about herself,
her childhood, family struggles
made her who and what she is today:
a wonderful classic of musical charm.

The point is telling
the story only she can.

She remembers.
She wants me to know.
It’s all important.

Another girl on my mind
made me wonder.
What was it like
to have been her?

Look both ways when looking into the lives of others.
Mind the gaps and do the research.

Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt #350 – Vapid

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An Ordinary Rage

Ordinary wine works just fine
for normal people like me.

My sister-in law explained,
(about damn near anything
she liked): “it’s all the rage!”

Like mid-eighties, vapid looking,
overpriced, Cabbage Patch Dolls.

Ordinary is good. Strength
resides around the center of a bell curve.

If everything must be so damn special,
think about that, my friend—
because (then) nothing is.

Look both ways because weddings are wonderful and funerals are not.
The first is an option while the second celebrates death more than life.
Mind the gaps and be skeptical of outliers.

Sammi’s Weekender #348 (turmoil)

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The Young Die in War

Into the turmoil of war, he went.
That young man in love with a dream,
showing his loyalty and patriotism,
what he can do for his country,
his tribe, his people, his gods.

Willingly, eagerly,
into the hazy war he went,
returning home bagged as meat and bone,
into the war he went.

Look both ways in school but keep asking, keep your mind aware,
why are we… why do we?
Mind the gaps in the destruction and rubble and remember why.

 

Sammi’s Weekender #343 (window)

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The Side I Never Met

Floating through darkness
I saw a light
in the black universe, one
dot, then
I determined
it was a window.

A woman was there.
She seemed to look but not see,
her blue eyes were calm.

I sensed
honest love, like a mother.
I could see longing—expecting
in her moist eyes.

Then I saw
the window was
a mirror of reality.
She was my reflection,
able to see into my past.
She was the image of the real me.

See both ways when looking through windows or into mirrors,
especially as metaphors of life.
Mind the gaps, the cracks, the wrinkles, and the patina of age.
Everything means something.

Sammi’s Weekender #342 (ocean)

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Two Earths, land and
ocean

perfectly disguised above.

Deadly.
Needed for life.

One Ocean. Four names. Only one.
Awesome is insufficient.

Look both ways when lost at sea.
Mind the gaps in the Marianas Trench.

The third line alludes to the song, “A Horse with No Name” by America (band).

Sammi’s Weekender #341 (rhythm)

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Rhythm is fascinating
to humans, animals,
even natural things
like rain can capture
the human heart and soul.

Even now, the natural pat-
pat-pat of my foot
absentmindedly comforts
my mind and soul.

A cat purrs out sounds
as birds sing their tunes
and the dancer begins
to move her feet.

Some days
the lyrics move me,
Other times,
it’s the beat
and I move my feet.

Look both ways at the lyrics and the music.
Mind the gaps where one saves the other.

I do so enjoy watching these dance videos with a step or two of envy. 🙂

Sammi’s Weekender #340 (wobble)

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The bow-legged woman
wobbled like a lady
doing the boogaloo.

Kind of a James Brown
LA stomp
with an old bag
of swag.

I just try to get by,
she said,
with an audible sigh.

Then I saw them leave,
the lady and drummer,
whose name was summer,

wobbled hysterically
out the door
just to move their feet.

Look both ways and write your song.
Mind the gaps and the sounds between the notes.

Sammi’s Weekender #337 (scribe)

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Been a student.
Learned and been taught.

Forgotten most of it by now
like Algebra and French
except the writing. And
some things
that can’t be taught.

Other things
I didn’t learn in school
like telling stories and jokes
that are learnt by listening.

Sitting around campfires
when some was truth,
some memories,
and some was downright lies.

When they ask
I say I write.
“What do you write?” they question.
What should I say? Words? Stuff?

Letters or poems?
Will novels and memoirs
resonate with my interrogators?
What does any writer write?

“I am a scribe.”
Sometimes.

Look both ways for self-identification.
Know the how’s, when’s, and whatever’s.
Mind the gaps and watch for traps but try to be what you say you are.