Winter Season

Neotenous continued

Oscar was full of anticipation as he left work. He shot Esther a text letting her know he was on his way home.

He didn’t pull in his drive. He pulled into hers. Could it someday be theirs? He sat in his SUV for a minute thinking about that. Could her home really be theirs? That thought excited him.

Stepping out of his SUV, he could smell food. His stomach immediately started to growl. Instead of going inside, he went around back. The back porch was decorated with vines, flowers, and balloons.

She walked out carrying a tray. It was as if he was in a trance. “You trickster you.” She giggled.

When she touched his face, was he about to cry?

At first his voice cracked, “I.” He tried again, “I thought we celebrated my birthday?”

“We did.”

“What’s all this?”

“Second birthday.”

“Why?” His mind was going in a thousand different directions.

“Why not?”

She led him onto the porch. “What is that smell?”

They heard a knock, it was Chet and Bell.

“Two birthday parties,” Belle said playfully.

“I know. Right.” Esther winked. “To answer your question, that smell is pizza dough.” She lifted the lid of the grill showing off 4 individual sized pizza doughs.

“WHAT?” Chet hissed. “No way did you grill a pizza. How?”

“It’s super simple. Heat your grill to 350 degrees. When it’s hot, use tongs to cover your grilling surface with oil by dipping a paper towel or cloth in oil.” She plated the blank pizza dough as she talked. “This has been on for about 15 minutes. Not frozen. Decorate.” She pointed at the table, covered with toppings. “Return to grill for another 15 minutes and eat.”

As the friends sat down to eat, Chet moaned “these are the best.”

Oscar blushed.

“What’s for dessert?” Bell giggled.

“Cup cakes and frozen yogurt.”

Chet pointed at Oscar, “you are going to spoil this one.”

“Dinner was the adult birthday party. Tonight,” she just laughed. They sat on the porch, eating and talking. When day started giving way to night, Esther announced “look around my friends, what do you see?”

Belle spoke, “it’s getting dark.”

She just smiled. No one said anything as they watched the night advancing pushing the day away. The sky filled with bright shades of pink, orange, red and purple.

“Fireflies,” Oscar breathed.

“Fireflies.” She had 4 jars and 4 nets, “we are going to catch fireflies.”

After hours of playing, they lay in the dew covered grass, out of breath but feeling amazing.

“You know,” Belle panted. “Whoo, I’ve never done that. I watched people do it in the movies.”

“I did it once. But I was so mean, I pulled off their tails and counted the seconds to see how long it took for the light to go out.” Chet remarked sadly. Chet rolled over on his belly, “what about you?” He was looking right at Esther.

Everyone took their lead from Chet and rolled over.

“Like Bell, I have watched people do it on t.v. but this is a first for me too.”

Oscar didn’t speak, he was lost. Esther noticed.

After Chet and Bell left, Oscar and Esther sat under the tree watching the fireflies dance. She, cradled in his arms.

“I think I’ve figured out why the word neotenous bothered me so much.”

“Care to share,” she asked.

“Remember me telling you I was the work horse? The dog?”

“Yes.”

“I can remember on one hand the number of times I played for the sake of playing. I got toys. But being a curious little boy, I wanted to know how the toys worked more than I wanted to play with them. When I took a toy apart; before I ever got to put it back together, mom would throw them in the fire. Make me watch them burn and lecture me about the value of money.”

“Where was your dad?”

He scoffed, “the worst beating I ever got, Oat broke a lamp. I got it put back together all except replacing the light bulb. Dad wanted to know where I was going with that? Before I could open my mouth, Oat pointed at me and said, ‘he broke’. Dad drug me by an ear, through the house, took his hand, rebroke the lamp.” Oscar stopped, kissed Esther on top of the head before laying his head on hers. “I couldn’t sit down for days.”

“That was child abuse.”

“That was punishment.”

She rose up to face him, “no that was abuse.”

“I don’t think Oat ever owned up to breaking that lamp.”

“How old were you?”

“12, maybe 13.”

“Why didn’t you run away?”

“And go where?”

“Your aunt and uncle.”

“You finally give up. And I did. Any toy I got, I gave to Oat.” Esther didn’t know what to say. “I had forgotten about that lamp.”

“When your brother was born, that was an extra mouth to feed and it became your burden to bear?”

“Pretty much.” He never looked up from the ground.

“There were no other kids to play with?”

“No. Ever since kindergarten, Chet has pulled me along.”

“Did you play at school?”

“Only when Chet was around. I was always too afraid I’d break something and my parents would have to pay for it.” He took a deep breath, “Chet and I were in two plays. One when we were in the 4th or 5th grade. Mom didn’t come watch because Oat was acting up. Heaven forbid dad watch the play or watch Oat for that matter. Same thing happened with the play I was in in high school. They didn’t watch me graduate, Oat was pitching a fit.”

She raised his chin, he was crying. “I’m sorry.”

He hugged her up. “Don’t stop being neotenous.”

Maddening

Maddening this

All the words I want to say

From my lips they will not stray

~

Maddening still

Right there hanging in the air

My soul they will not bare

~

Maddening deeper

With wings of delight words take flight

I cannot catch them with all my might

~

Mad

Let me catch you

My muscles burn from the churn

~

Madder

Why in my depth of sorrow

Will you not shower me for tomorrow

~

Maddening

Book, pages, years and tears

Full of words, words without fears

~

Sad

Why now words? I need you most!

Leave me not without your host

*Bois d’ arc aka Lions Mane, A poetic conversation, 2024.

Winter Season

Finished

Testing finished on a Tuesday, which Esther thought was weird. Nothing about the school systems timing made sense to her.

Oscar laid his head on her lap as she played with his hair. “Feel better?” She asked.

“Much of that and I will be asleep.”

“You’ve had a stressful two weeks.” She corrected herself, “two and a half weeks almost.”

In no time flat, he was asleep. She continued rubbing his hair. He looked so peaceful lying in her lap. She moved from his hair to his face. She enjoyed the smoothness and warmth of his skin. After about half an hour, she eased off the couch letting him nap.

Dear God, what was she doing? What if the outcome of the thing was bad? She’d never get to hold him again. Should she go back in there and hold him until her arms ached?

She stood staring into the fridge, wondering what she could fix for dinner? But her mind kept wondering back to the subject of why she was here. Images scrambled inside her mind. Images she couldn’t control. The opened freezer air washed over her. “Dear God please, take it away.” She whispered.

She finally shut the fridge and turned to rummage through the cabinets.

Oscar was standing behind her. He looked sad. She put her arms around him as tightly as she could. “I wish you could talk to me.” He kissed the top of her head.

“It’s the same ole story. I’m scared.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No.”

“How would you like to go to the prom?”

She moved so that she could make eye contact. “The prom?”

“I’ve been asked to chaperone. And I would be honored if you’d be my date.” He smiled.

“What do adults wear to the prom?”

“I’m just gonna wear a suit.”

“Mr. Patterson,” she smiled. “I would be honored. When is the prom?”

“Next Saturday.”

“What do you want for dinner?”

“Honestly?”

“Of course.”

“Nothing.”

“Okay,” she shrugged her shoulders.

He was shocked; she wasn’t going to fight with him about it.

A gun to a knife fight: a haiku or Let’s duel

I challenge you. Let’s
duel. Wave your poet swords
and poet pistols.

A friend and I have been writing haikus back and forth. We have been following the 5-7-5 format. I wrote this haiku to invite him into a duel. But ended up not sharing it until we were already underway.

I’ve been trying to add drawings or pictures.

He won round 1. 🎉 I won round 2. 🎉

I recently learned that adding a seasonal reference to a haiku is called a kigo.

poetry awareness month

April is poetry awareness month. Poetry gets a bad rap. Why? Why do people hate poetry so much? According to Medium.com, here are their top 6 reason why people hate poetry:

It’s old/ dead.

It’s nerdy.

It’s elitist, snobbish, stuck-up, or exclusive.

It’s boring.

It’s hard.

It never really interested

Thank you for reading.

Have you written a poem lately?

Happy Easter

Happy Easter from Chico and Chico’s Mom.

1 Peter 1:3New International Version

Praise to God for a Living Hope

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead,

Passion

Passion can be defined in many ways.

It runs deep within our veins.

~

Passion can be toward many objects.

Music, art, words, places, spaces, people, or things.

~

Passion can run wild.

Like a mountain stream just after the rain.

~

Passion can be a lovers embrace.

Hot, wet bodies intertwined.

~

Passion, never underestimate its power.

The driving force behind great things.

~

Passion, a forced to be reckoned with.

Once defined and elevated.

~

Passion, thunder and lightning have no greater power,

than a passion driven human.

~

When we truly learn where our passion lies,

there are no limits to the things we will do.

~

Or the things we will try,

to keep our passion alive.

~

Passion defines us. Owns us. Invigorates us.

Turns our lives inside out.

~

Finding passion can be as difficult as finding a needle in a haystack.

But once it’s located, passion can be a greater force than Pompeii.

~

Passion can smother us. Blind us. Bind us. Turn our world inside out.

~

Passion is a force to be reckoned with.

Wrecked with.

Winter Season

Birthday

Oscar really didn’t expect anything from his family on his birthday. He usually just got a card or a phone call. Depending on how his mother was feeling. His brother didn’t even bother to sign it; his mother signed everyone’s name to it. This year because of the ‘blow up’, he received no attention from his family. He was a little depressed as he walked toward his SUV. Birthdays had never been a big deal for him. But still no one wants to be ignored on their birthday.

Esther had been checking to see if he was taking his medicine for his ulcer. She would ask him from time to time how it was doing. However, lately, she was making sure he took it. There was a note on his SUV; did you take your medicine today? Ess

He was a little unnerved about how she was able to get on school property. Nonetheless, it made him smile.

When he got home, he thought about going over to Esther’s. He stood in the drive way staring at her house. His phone chimed, alerting him that he had a text message. It was from Esther and read ‘roses are still red. I’m still confused if violets are blue. Get your butt over here. I’ve got things for you’.

As he opened the door, his ears were filled with the soft sounds of music. His nose flooded with the smell of food. When he walked into the kitchen, his jaw dropped. Bell, Chet and Esther started singing Happy Birthday to him. He could have cried. Esther had fixed a salad and chicken, broccoli, fettuccine, alfredo with garlic bread.

“Please forgive me,” Bell spoke, “but what are these little black things on top of the fettuccine?”

Esther smile, “shaved truffles.”

“Why would you put chocolate on top of pasta?” Chet frowned.

“It’s true. Truffles are amazing desserts but in this case the truffles are mushrooms.”

“Really,” Chet was shocked.

“Taste it and see what you think.” Esther encouraged.

Oscar took a big bite. “I never really cared for mushrooms but these are good.”

She waved her fork at him, “stick with me buddy, I’ll change your world.”

He laughed a laugh that she sorta heard at Christmas. It was deep, clear and came from a place that hadn’t created a laugh in years. “Too late, you already have.” He smiled.

Throughout dinner he didn’t eat much. Esther knew why. She just prayed this wouldn’t hurt him.

Chet and Bell smiled at each other as well. It was wonderful to see their friend in such a great frame of mind.

Everyone ate and talked for hours. Oscar had forgotten about the disappointment of his family and enjoyed the accompaniment of his friends and the woman he loved.

After dinner, Esther instructed everyone outside. It was a warm May evening and she was going to make sure it didn’t go to waste. The road in front of their homes was well lit by two lights; one either side of the road. She uncovered a c.d. player and that Kenny Chesney song they first dance in the snow to started playing.

“You do realize,” Oscar took her hand and led her to the middle of the road. “When we get married, we will be dancing to this song.”

“You think?” They started dancing in the street lamp. “What if I have an objection to that?”

He held her close, “what objection would that be?”

“I think it should be the song we dance our first dance too.”

Bell and Chet finally joined them. They weren’t bad dancers in their own right.

The song and the tempo changed, “guess what?” Bell shouted, “we are dancin’ in the street.”

They danced for a couple hours. After they said their goodbyes and left, Oscar flopped down on the couch. “Oh, that was amazing.”

“Mr. Patterson,” she lifted his feet, placing them on her lap, then removed his shoes and socks; massaging his feet.

He moaned with delight, “that feels good.”

“How was your day?”

“Long. Yours?”

“Full of nervous energy planning for your dinner.”

He opened his eyes in shock, “nervous. About what?”

“It always makes me nervous cooking for other people.”

“Sweetheart, it was delicious.”

“Thanks.” She blushed, “I really hope it doesn’t hurt you.”

“So far so good.” He smiled, “I just feel pressure like I’ve eaten too much.”

“You will tell me if anything changes.”

“I will.”

What am I; answer.

This one was answered by;

https://whendeadlinesbecomezombies.wordpress.com/

Thank you for responding.

This is a sycamore seed pod. Well, a crushed one.
I zoomed in the middle to highlight the honeycomb effect.
This is what it looks like when my mower has finished with it.
I am forever packing these in the house with my shoes. Don’t step on one barefoot; OUCH!