Micropoetry Monday: The Writer’s Life

Writer's Life

The Shutterfly Edition

He was pulp fiction with expletives & explosions,
she, Harlequin Christian romance
with exaltation & exclamations of everlasting love.
They gave their fans what they wanted,
& though their work only endured
till the next author came around,
they made a good side income
freelancing for the local newspaper—
he, covering the grit & gristle of hard news,
& she, the cream & fluff of soft news.

When Comma sailed on a scholarship to Oxford College—
in nothing but a pinafore & saddle shoes—
having unearthed her earthly purpose at Harvard,
she discovered her divine purpose through her thesis on clarity,
& thus became
the Oxford Comma.

They Couldn’t Take it With Them

When Miss Grammarly & Miss Writerly—
2 spinsters who unraveled yarns
& whose punctuation rained
on a mathematician’s parade
like music notes in a sour serenade—
passed on to that great Writing Lab in the sky,
they found that their favorite mark,
the non-committal Semicolon,
had not made it past the mother-of-pearly gates,
for when S.C. had reached the end
of its life sentence,
it hadn’t known whether to pause
or stop altogether,
& so it chose to continue
to haunt English majors
& thus remain,
the bane
of their earthly existence.

Micropoetry Monday: The Lighter Side

The Lighter Side

Tippi was a blond out of the bottle,
Dagny, a blond with brunette roots.
When they decided to fleece a couple of black sheep,
these fun girls realized that
with a drop of a hanky
& just the promise of panky,
blondes may have had more fun,
but brunettes got away with it.

He was all that was wrong with men
when it came to women,
for he felt entitled to take
whatever one he wanted,
only for Bubba Edmonds in Cell #9
to feel even more entitled to pick him
as his newest Turkish delight.

When Comb met Brush,
they encountered a hairy situation,
making Brush bristle
& Comb lose all her teeth.

Micropoetry Monday: Children of the Blue and the Gray

Children of the Blue and the Gray

The Shutterfly edition

Her lawyer read over every email,
every contract,
& every employee handbook,
looking for loopholes she could fall through.
When she found the humdinger of them all,
slipping through it like a cheaply-wrapped stick of hot butter,
she spent her way through America,
redistributing her wealth by patronizing restaurants
so that all her fat was not redistributed but freshly-distributed
in what was now known as “Corporation Up Front.”

He practiced law
but didn’t follow it.
She practiced Christianity
but didn’t preach it.
They practiced medicine
but wouldn’t take it.
When they found each other,
they found the one thing
they could take—
each other’s inability
to do themselves
what they told others
to do.

He was a playboy,
she, a working girl.
Though they were in the biz,
they were also camera shy,
but what they believed
would be their undoing
would have been their alibi.

Micropoetry Monday: The Lighter Side

The Lighter Side

When Stuffed Shirt met Fancy Pants,
they realized they coordinated perfectly.
When they crossed the beaten path
with Mr. Overalls,
feeling like they were better than him
because he said y’all rather than
whatever the hell it was they said,
he, with his denim wisdom, told them
that at least he didn’t need no belt
to keep it all together.

When Brookie Crowney,
as part of her parole,
joined Chocoholics Anonymous
for chewing up BonBon Bailey’s candy ass,
the support group was forced
to change its name,
for Brookie just wouldn’t
shut the fudge up about it.

When Cursive met Print,
Print lamented about feeling disconnected,
to which Cursive replied,
“At least people understand you.”

Micropoetry Monday: The Lighter Side

The Lighter Side

When Chad decided to double-cross
Dictionary & Thesaurus,
he, with the IQ of a boiled turnip,
was no match for Dictionary,
who didn’t just tell him what he was
but went so far as to spell it out
& use his name in a sentence
while Thesaurus,
who was fed up of being overused,
called him every name in the book.

Mr. Shaker worked in the salt mines,
Ms. Grinder, the pepper mill.
They endured a hardscrabble existence,
what with him being
a water retention expert
& she,
being blessed more times
than were sugar lumps
at tea time in Britain.
At a well-seasoned age,
they retired on a penny pension,
ready to spice up their world.
When they met over a bowl of grits a yo-yo,
they realized that they complemented
one another
perfectly.

When the Couch Potatoes decided
they needed a rebranding,
they juiced carrots daily,
trying to turn themselves into Sweet Potatoes,
which only made them ill,
so they marketed themselves
as gluten-free sofa spuds instead,
but took it too far when they made Bread
the enemy.

 

Micropoetry Monday: Hymns of Motherhood

Hymns of Motherhood

The Shutterfly Edition

For her,
motherhood was spent
smacking tags on clothes in the store
& plush animals at home,
on spinning pennies
& Minnie Mouse by the tail,
on “crashing the checkers”
of Connect Four,
only for the tray to be filled up again
with what she called gold coins & pepperonis.
Though such activities became
repetitious,
the payoff was in her smile
that lit up her face like a gloriole
& with the laughter that filled a room
with mirth.

She taught her daughter about Dreamland,
Tomorrowland,
& Never-Never Land that was always, always there.
She taught her about the Land of Shuteye Town,
of Oz, Narnia, & Wonderland,
& the Queendom of 40 Winks.
She taught her practical magic
& made realism magical,
which came from the imaginations
of those under the Heaven that was
beyond imagination
& surpassed all understanding.

There were oohs & aahs
over the goos & gahs
as the parents & grandparents
gathered round
in fascination with this new life,
bearing pink, plushy presents,
while the little child who had preceded this life
stood back & watched in the cool shallows,
thinking her star had dimmed
when it had only matured,
not understanding
that her co-existing co-creators
had wanted this life,
in part,
because her ever-so-wonderful life
had come first.

Micropoetry Monday: Education

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Once upon a long time ago,
it was understood that the men
went to the College of Liberal Arts,
run by men
& the women,
the School of Domestic Arts,
run by women.
But then a Mr. & Mrs.,
well-versed & quite dexterous in both arts,
showed the world that it was better off
when men & women
not only learned from one another
but when everyone was educated
& knew how to do things for themselves.

She was a kindergarten teacher,
he, a college professor.
She taught the phonemes,
he, the 100-dollar words.
They both saw the value
they gave to their students—
she, in their beginnings,
& he,
in their ends.

She took numerous DNA tests,
only to fail them,
her cat was always upchucking
all over her homework,
& she was often accused of plagiarism
by a TurnItIn bot
who had twice the intelligence
but not half the talent.
When she sneaked into the Student Lab
for a prescription to unknot the stress ball
that was her life,
she realized that she knew who she was,
even if she didn’t know what she was,
that maybe online classes were for her,
& that in-text citations were a student’s best friend.

The Last Temptation of Christal Lord

Christal had grown up as the replacement child,
the third of Mr. & Mrs. Lord,
for their first had been taken & given back to God.
When Christal broke that barrier & turned back time
to have a chance to rescue the girl whose death
had given her life—
she saw her own life floating away before her eyes
& drown out of existence.
She thought of all the memories that would be wiped out,
even her very existence,
but in that last second,
she knew it was better to save a life by curing a death,
even if it meant preventing a birth,
& so she pulled the girl whose face she knew
as well as her own,
but whose face had remained frozen at the age of eight,
from the dark waters that now engulfed them both.
Flooding in tandem
with the memories of living in her dead sister’s shadow,
Christal had lived,
in another life & dimension,
in her living sister’s light,
where she was no longer the replacement child,
but the surprise one.