Poetry Jam XIX–a sad attempt, but my attempt nonetheless

Here is my attempt for this week’s Poetry Jam. What’s cooking this week? Write a poem which uses the following words:

laugh  laundry  ghost  edges  beer

I’ve tried to fulfill the assignment and the result may be the worst poem I’ve written since I started this blog (believe me, not my worst poem ever, because some of those I wrote in my younger days are real stinkers).

I’m terrible with humorous poems and I tried to go that route with this one; then I decided, what the heck, I’ll let it be what it is. Not too happy with the result, but as I’ve said before, the shit can get pretty deep around here so it’s good practice not to take myself and work too seriously.*

If you are new to my blog (maybe came via Silent H, Deadly H?), welcome and please look at some of my other poems via the Category column to your right. I swear I usually do better…..

Ghosts of My Grandmothers Hanging Laundry

I love the laundry,
it is true,
I always have,
I always do

The sheets hang like ghosts
in autumn’s fading light
sins of my fathers
labors of my mothers
precede the
rhythm of my days

My grandmothers make sharp edges
with hot irons

Sometimes an uttered curse
up to God or down to Hell
rarely a laugh
the labor long
with diapers
and stained undershirts

Oma didn’t drink
because alcohol
was a demon
walking side-by-side
with the soldiers and the bombs,
Meine Opa’s
fists livelier with every slug
from the bottle

For my Jewish Grandma Elsa,
ceremonial wine

And me?
Do not I love the laundry?

Jeans on the line,
and genes from my fathers,
slugging my beer
‘til I can’t drink any more

I love the laundry,
it is true,
I always have,
I always do

October 16, 2011

*Dear Readers–the trick of setting you up for disappointment is not new to me. I understand this robs you (and me) of a fresh ear to my work and a genuine, untainted discourse in regards to it. It’s an old behavior of mine and I pull it out here consciously. Perhaps a woman of greater character and strength would have let the chips fall where they may. My only defense is I don’t do it often and I’m pretty strong most rest of the time (you know I’ve got a pair of brass ovaries, peeps!). I love you, my dear readers; don’t forget it!

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Poetry Jam XIII–something funny

I know I’m posting these really late for the Poetry Jam, and that’s probably because I’m not very funny. Limericks are supposed to be funny, so here are my attempts. A really good limerick is harder than it looks (I’ve got the rhythm screwed up, for instance). A bad pun, on the other hand, not so hard.

Laugh Lines

An old mother lying in bed,
Thought “this laughing has gone to my head”
She looked in the mirror,
And saw something queerer:
Many crow’s feet on her face instead

A mom dreamed off into space
‘Til she saw all the lines on her face
“These crow’s feet can’t stay,
For plastic surgery I’ll pay
Or perhaps I’ll stop smiling apace”

September 7, 2011

For Poetry Jam: “something funny”

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