#Micropoetry Monday: The Lighter Side

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Although a mismatched pair of socks,
Lefty & Righty still served a dual purpose:
to keep their contents warm—
in winter & in summer,
in smelly times & in freshly-laundered times,
in plush times & in threadbare times—
for as long as they remained un-holey.

For the brunette bombshell
known as Buxom Brown,
Jenna & Barbara Bush
lived in 2 different zip codes,
but when Bux got her reduction,
all that double-duty heavy lifting
was behind her,
for this girl’s 2 best assets
were now known as Jen & Barb.

Sox the Cat & Shooz the Dog–
named for what they unraveled or chewed up–
sold for pennies on the pound.
When they crossed piddle & poo paths
with Cashmere the Cat & Jimmy Choo the Dog,
they were reviled for their generic breeding.
But Sox & Shooz were major leaguers,
for by their names alone,
they represented EveryCat & EveryDog.
So this ragtag duo got together
with all the other neighborhood pets & strays,
& the candy asses of Cashmere & Choo
were kicked to the curb
where the garbage can diet was the only thing
on the menu.

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#Micropoetry Monday: The Faultlessness of their Stars

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When the learned astronomer went blind,
he hired a foundling—
a lost soul hovering between heaven & hell.
A wealthy intellectual
(which was an oxymoron, for some),
he asked the boy to be his eyes,
to describe everything he saw.
And it was through the eyes of the blind,
that the learned astronomer’s apprentice,
through service to another,
reached his potential.
When the learned astronomer closed his eyes
for the final time in earth-space,
the boy’s eyes had been opened,
for there’d been nothing he’d ever had
that had been of value to anyone,
except to the learned astronomer
whose last sight was feel of the boys’ wet face
in his hands.

She bicycled, upcycled, & recycled,
burning calories,
not waste.
Her collar had faded from blue to white,
only to deepen into green.
She planted herself where she would grow the most–
an environment where she could be her most creative.
And with every ripening
& every reaping,
there would not be an uprooting,
but a replanting,
for she would leave a seed in her place–
ready to help the next person grow
in that place.

As Angel & Demon walked side by side in a parallel universe,
they came upon an impressionable human being
hitchhiking their way through the galaxy–
now standing before that split in the wishbone.
These 2 otherworldly beings were on a mission:
the former,
to gain a soul,
the latter,
a lost one.
The Demon told this being
that all their senses would be heightened
to anything they had ever experienced on Earth;
the Angel said that what they would experience
beyond the mythical pearly gates
would transcend all senses.
When the human being chose the planet
of the sun rays & the moon beams
over the one of candlelight & firelight,
they realized that they’d been to this place before,
& that the life they’d known had been a scavenger hunt–
where only a minority had figured out
that it was not themselves they were looking for,
but the Ticketmaster with the unlimited tickets
that had already been paid for.

#Micropoetry Monday: The Writer’s Life

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She was criticized for writing puff pieces
as light & airy as meringue,
but only those who knew her best
knew that she had many thoughts beyond
food & entertainment & all the little extras
that connected people of all kinds–
she just didn’t have the time
nor the energy
to deal with hate mail.

Blackie & Blondie had journalists for parents,
& so they grew up being asked
Who, What, Where, When, & so forth.
They learned how to remember
the important things,
so that they could tell the stories
that were true.
These stories they told of others
inspired them to live the kind of lives
worth writing about.
Because their parents had asked them questions,
they had learned to do the same
with everyone they met.
Though they’d been called inquisitive at best
& intrusive at worst,
they did learn something most valuable,
& that was how to take an interest
(& a very human one at that)
in other people.

She wrote the life she wanted,
only to realize that as she mirrored her life
after her own creations,
she was writing her future.

#Micropoetry Monday: Opposites

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When the crime scene photographer
met the wedding photographer,
the former brought stark realism to her life,
& the latter brought whimsical idealism to his.

They were the bloodhounds of bloodlines,
for she used DNA databases to catch cold-case criminals,
he, to reconnect people with their long-lost relatives.
Her work brought justice, even as his brought joy;
they saw what they did not as a career,
but rather, as the fulfillment of a calling from a higher power.

He spent his life preserving old things;
she spent hers creating new ones.
When she found him in the archives
& he found her in the newsroom,
they realized they both had something
to offer the other:
Perspective.

#Micropoetry Monday: The Lighter Side

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He was trade school,
she, liberal arts,
but when they walked into 4Bucks,
they were transformed into the 2
coffee-crazed customers from hell.

When Ethos, Pathos, & Logos
met for drinks,
Ethos regaled the others
with his deep asides,
trying to gauge the morality
of drinking for business
vs. drinking for pleasure,
while Pathos got all weepy
having drank enough
to satisfy both scenarios.
But Logos—
never the life of any soiree &
tired of their talk & tears—
said at least they hadn’t
been reduced to a pair of
double yellow arches,
among other images
that hawked food-like substances.

Copper Knuckles had been a retired jewel thief
until he’d met Ruby Slipper.
When he drank from her cups,
he stole her away,
spiriting her off to the Emerald Coast on the Sapphire Sea,
but made it right by putting a ring on her,
finally making an honest man of himself.

#Micropoetry Monday: The Fault of their Stars

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He was a logical astronomer,
she, an astrologer who was
a certified space cadet.
For years, he’d studied the heavens,
only to make contact with this celestial body
who would take him there
at the speed of sound.

He studied the planets,
to learn more about his own.
She studied her ancestors,
to learn more about herself.
When he learned that Earth
was his adopted home,
it changed nothing,
but when she learned that
her family
was her adoptive family,
it changed everything.

He lived amongst the stars,
who weren’t so bright without their scripts,
whereas she lived under
another kind of star—
the ones that would outlive every last one,
& needed no words to amaze them all.

#Fiction Friday: #Micropoetry from the Book

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With her Snow-White features,
every man wanted Leann,
& there was a part of me who wished that I could be
a Rapunzel with Samson-powered hair,
the one who would usurp her power
by being the fairest of them all,
for I had been served a poisoned apple–
the apple of false prophecy.
I had not consumed it,
but my mother had,
& it was as if I had been in her womb
when it had broken through the placental barrier.
The poison from the pome
had been good for Mother
but not for me.

At St. Mary’s,
a sculpture depicting a broken, bloodied Christ
was suspended at the front of the abbey,
while at Green Haven Ward,
a painting of a perfected Christ
hung in the foyer off to the side.
Both religions,
too dogmatic to be mere denominations,
had their men in charge:
the Pope & the Prophet—
old, white men—
who could speak in His Name.

Though we were surrounded by people,
we were the only 2 people in our world.
I sensed a change in my & David’s relationship,
but I could not define it.
It had matured somehow.
I was no longer his stepdaughter—
I was his equal.

Diamonds paired with white,
pearls, with black,
but David looked equally good,
whether he was with Mother
or with me.
I didn’t wear jeans & tennis shoes
but dressed as Princess Kate,
the Duchess of Cambridge would,
many years hence.
I had seen myself as royalty then,
or maybe it was because David
had always treated me as such.

David’s scent was incense to my soul,
his food,
like manna,
his image,
an icon of hope
that there was still good in this world
that the Mormons saw as merely a blip in time–
not to enjoyed for its own sake
but to be preparing for the next life,
for their motto was not “enjoying till the end”
but “enduring to the end.”