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A little bit of everyday life, a lot of imagination.
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I stand, agonizing.
Staring at the almost empty
Pink cardboard box
Of crumbs and sugary shrapnel
And one,
One last doughnut.
I look around the room.
Is it being saved for someone?
Did everybody get one?
Maybe I should just take half.
I mean, really, I don't really need it.
On the other hand,
It's not something I have everyday...
Oh, what the heck!
I should just grab it before--
Hi!
Oh no, go ahead!
I mean, really, I don't really need it.
It's just a doughnut...
The last one.
(I smile)
Go ahead.
(I try not to cry)
Caren E. Salas
Photo: mine
Donut: Varsity Donuts of Manhattan, Kansas https://www.facebook.com/varsitydonuts/
Silly photos found
In my cell phone, make me smile
Surprises from her
Caren E. Salas
There's something very wrong here
Something not quite right
When a bullied child in self defense
Is rebuked for "joining" the fight;
When a victim's life is opened wide
And instead of comforted, shamed,
Insulted atop the injury
Belittled, mocked and blamed.
How do we alter hundreds of years
Of Survival of the Cruel?
It's time to change some attitudes.
It's time to break some rules.
Apparently it's easy to say
"Toughen up, you'll be fine"
Rather than taking action,
To eliminate the crime.
There's something very wrong here;
Something so absurd.
But being a girl myself, it seems
I likely won't be heard.
Caren E. Salas
Photo: http://bullyingpreventionnow.com/bullying-assemblies/high-school-bullying-assemblies/
Also, check this out! http://www.pennlive.com/news/2016/06/high_school_valedictorian_skip.html
Waiting and wondering
Nervous excitement
A happy panic
Mixed with somber confusion
Neurotic obsession
And willing delusion
A constant addiction
To imminent perceptions
Of future occasions
Filled with great trepidations
Yet euphoric optimism
Knowing and certain
Believing,,,hoping....
Waiting and wondering.
Caren E. Salas
It was the coolest place in heaven or earth
We were seven or eight
Just a couple of girls
Our faces smudged with jelly and dirt
And the playhouse
Was our own little world
On the ceiling was a map and a chart of Morse code
There was a potter's wheel
For making clay bowls
Just enough space for imaginations to roam
Sleeping bags and blankets
For when it got cold
It was the coolest place in heaven or earth
And for a couple of girls
Our own little world.
Caren E. Salas
Okay, we are a little more than 7 or 8 here....but this is my partner in crime,
and yes, we are still friends.
A line
A wiggle
Just thoughtless squiggles
Like inside of my mind
A jumble
unrefined
In different directions
It's all
For my own protection.
If no one can figure me out, then
I don't have to show
Who I really am.
Caren E. Salas
You really don't know
Until you go someplace else
And you realize
You can breathe, I mean really
Inhale deeply, exhale...breathe.
Caren E. Salas
Photo: http://www.umich.edu/~elements/5e/web_mod/la_basin/index.htm
Grounded
Stable, stong
Doing, feeling, striving
Roots, home, prison, restraint
Reaching, fearing, disparing
Imprisoned, tortured
Bound.
Caren E. Salas
Inexperience
Written all over his face
Passed over, again.
Caren E. Salas
The petals drop one by one
My opening night bouquet
Fading into every day
Mere hours remain of this dream
And I don't want to wake up
Eyes closed, let me sleep some more.
Caren E. Salas
Distance can be measured
Not in miles,
But by smiles and tears;
Not on a street map,
But through years: the days and nights
And the difference
In between.
A warm embrace remembered,
Makes separation abate,
But the cold chill of a friendship lost
Reaches right into the heart:
A reminder
Of a much greater divide
.
You haven't moved, or traveled
To parts unknown and yet
The distance
In between us
...has grown.
Caren E. Salas
Three long months I have to wait
Until my next vacation
All right, about one hundred
Days more or less, give or take,
Thirteen hours, and six minutes.
But it's not like I'm counting....
Caren E. Salas
Good night
Is all she said
Turned off the light
And went to bed.
I love you
He whispered back
Closed his eyes
Fade to black.
Caren E Salas
Somehow, I completely lost track of April. Yes, pretty much the entire month has disappeared from memory. I did go on a cruise the first week of the month, but after that...it's all a blur. I sort of remember unpacking, and trying to catch up on the bills and housework, but other than that....things get fuzzy..And now, here it is: the end of May.
So unfortunately I missed Robert Lee Brewer's Poem a Day Challenge for National Poetry Month which was almost two months ago. At first I thought "Awe, man! I blew it!" But then I realized, that I can still look up Mr. Brewer's prompts and I can still write a poem every day for a month. Well, I can try anyway. So here I go. Hopefully you will join me for the ride. I'll try and keep up.
The first prompt was to write a "Foolish Poem". There's something about that word that sort of bothers me. I don't mind the occasional surprise that makes you jump, or a silly rubber spider in your cereal, but for a person to purposely set another person up to make them feel stupid, seems hurtful, and alienating. So...here's my post for a "Foolish" poem:
THE FOOL
No one wants to play the fool
The butt of jokes, the target
In a dart game, the bullseye
Talked and laughed about by all
Who need to put down others
In order to raise themselves.
Caren E. Salas
Appointments
Procedures
It all seems
Familiar
But this time
It's not me
I wish though
It could be
I don't want
To see her
...in pain.
More blood work
The needles
The waiting
For hours
The meds and
The diets
Won't know 'til
We try it
I don't want
Her going
...insane.
It's all
Inconclusive
Frustrating
Confusing
More doctors
Re-testing
It's hard just
Digesting
The answers
Seem so hard
...to find.
So we go
On waiting
What seems like
Forever
I hope that
She makes it
I hope I
Can take it
I feel like
I'm losing
....my mind.
Caren E. Salas
My eyes are wide open, my hair is a mess,
My blankets are tangled; can't escape from my bed.
But the worst part is knowing despite my distress,
And I can't stop the runaway train in my head.
I'm feeling hung over, but had nothing to drink.
I expect to find shrapnel of my brains all around,
Left behind when due to unexpected ignition
My head just exploded, without making a sound.
Still the train keeps on coming, increasing in speed.
Filled with freight cars heavy with worries and fears;
And I'm tied to the tracks like the Perils of Me
Damn Pauline didn't show up, yet the audience cheers.
Was it something I said, or forgot to include?
Did I remember to lock the front door late last night?
There's the long list of things I still have to do.
Did I mess something up? Can I still make it right?
My thoughts are as tangled as the blankets and sheets
That are holding me hostage, twisted up in my bed.
The whistle is blowing; with no rescue in sight
And I can't stop the runaway train in my head.
Caren E. Salas
Photo: "Little Phil and the Nightshadows" Perils of Pauline youtube.com
I'm still here
But you can't see me
Closed your eyes
So I'll go away.
I'm still here
But you won't hear me
Turned your back
To what I say.
I'm still here
Though I'm deleted
Marked and cut
Without a paste.
I'm still here
But I don't exist
Because to you
I've been erased.
Caren E. Salas
By:
Caren E. Salas,
on 2/11/2016
Blog:
KidPoet Notes
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Sometimes I think
It was just a dream
Another life
Me, imagining.
My dancing shoes
Have gathered dust
My singing voice
Is a little rusty.
My body is tired.
My song is sad;
A quiet echo
Of what once I had.
But still I try
No giving in,
Discouraged by
What could have been.
It may not end
The way I planned,
But I'm on my feet
And I can make a stand.
And if I can stand,
Then I can dance.
Another show.
Another chance.
I refuse to quit.
No surrendering,
And never stop
Remembering...
That once I thought
It was just a dream
Another life
Me, imagining.
Caren E. Salas
Photo: CSUDH "A Chorus Line" 1988
The water is cold;
Hard to get into sometimes,
But I push myself,
Closing my eyes, believing
For a while, that I'm...weightless.
I dropped the ball.
I let go of the string.
I had it down, I had it right;
But when the time came, everything...
Well, everything went out the window.
All the preparations seemed
To vanish in a fog.
How could it go
So very wrong?
So hard to pick myself back up;
Pieces of myself scattered
All over the place.
I made that leap of faith
But fell.
My self esteem has left the building;
Left with out a trace.
I blew the shot
I jumped the gun
Thinking way too much it seems;
Trying to remember, and forgetting...
Forgetting in the end...
To have fun.
Caren E. Salas
photo: www.oldnick.org.au
Twenty-four shiny measuring spoons
One for each hour of my day
How will I use them? What will I do?
Can't let them be wasted away.
Three to wake up, shower, get dressed
Taking my daughter to school: one more
Making my breakfast takes maybe a half
But shopping for groceries takes four.
A third of them gone and it's not even noon,
And there's so much left to be done.
To dust and to vacuum sucks up about five
If I sit folding clothes that's just one.
When I pick up my daughter, I'll stop at the bank
And stop at the dry cleaners too
That's about six gone, but dinner and dishes
Will take up five more and I'm through!
I'm over my budget of energy spoons
So tomorrow I'll be starting with less
Twenty-two and a half, but a new list of chores
You just can't imagine my stress.
Which, by the way, takes it's own toll in spoons
Depleting the few I can use.
And sadly the deficit continues to grow
There's nothing about this I'd choose.
But once in a while I have a great day
And somehow that seems to renew
My little supply of slightly bruised spoons
Sometimes even extras accrue.
So I plug along, counting my spoons
Knowing all will work out in the end
As long as I have a few really good times
And the help of my family and friends.
Caren E. Salas
Inspired by "The Spoon Theory" by Christine Misorandino
http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/
It's time to bury
The dead. Just make sure they are...
Actually dead.
Caren E. Salas
Photo: http://thetangential.com/2011/01/19/reasons-why-we-as-a-society-might-like-zombies/
Can I tell you a secret?
Will you promise not to tell?
I've never told anyone
What I'm about to tell you.
Come in a little closer...
Nope, forget it; changed my mind.
Caren E. Salas
Antimatter,
Like an antagonist
In a story
Of the Universe
Is the opposite of matter:
The Protagonist.
Antimatter is the opposite
Of what matters.
Why does it matter?
You may ask.
I'll tell you.
The possibility
Or the creation
Of Antimatter
Could turn out to be
A simple matter
Of destruction
For our planet.
And that matters
To me.
Caren E. Salas
Photo: science.howstuffworks.com
Info: http://whatis.techtarget.com/definition/antimatter
I told them not to.
Seeing what was behind us
Could cause a panic.
Better just to run as fast
As we can, and don't look back.
Caren E. Salas
photo: ibtimes.co.uk
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