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December 11, 2016

Nana lights the fruitcake.
There is no point, whining
About how it used to be.
Spoons on the noses.
Nana lighting - or attempting
To light - the fruitcake
In the blue dining room

Under the warm bright
Of a gifted chandelier.
Toy mice left on the china,
Forgotten relics from
Santa's stocking stuffing.

Those memories are there.
Not static, changing
And growing, but past.

Tomorrow versions of our family
Morph and shift like a
Werewolf under the full moon

Or a mild butterfly's
Cocoon. We must embrace
Each future holiday

And the unmarked opportunities
For the new under the memories
Of those who have gone.

This is Poem #217 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

November 25, 2016

The day after turkey,
We can start with the decorations.
Much to the chagrin
Of the older, greatest generation.

Cut some pine and balsam,
Light a red candle,
Put out some flourishes.
Is it more than we can handle?

Sparkle and flair, Red
And green everywhere.
Santa has already been at the mall.
He is so early this year.

I am going to pull out the box
Of seasonal DVDs,
And we've a box of ornaments, too,
To hang on that tagged tree.

Elves are spying in the windows;
What will they see?
It is a good determinate
To what will be under that tree.

This is Poem #207 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

November 24, 2016

Set up for disappointment,
Sometimes, that is all a holiday is.
Promises of a day set aside
In the year never
compare to glossy movie scenes.

Valentine's Day sells cards,
And heartbreak. Reminders,
You are alone, or worse,
With the wrong one.

Family days in the era
Of the broken family,
The Christmas shuffle -
Make each empty chair,

Needlepoint seats stitched
By a long ago ghost,
Even larger a reminder

Of all that has been lost.

This is Poem #206 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

October 31, 2016

Charlie Brown, we are always looking
For that savior to swoop in
And bring us a bag of treats -

Candied apples and Peanut Butter Cups.
We spread a plaid, felt blanket
Next to the cool, stone wall,

Wait in wonder for a specter.
Is this the basis of all war?

"A pumpkin as no legs,"
You claim. "He will never
Saunter in, like Santa the hero
Of Christmas, laden with toys
For good girls and good boys."

Take a knife to his face.
Give him the expression
You deem he craves -

Frightful, happy,
Ridiculous triangle
Eyes and nose.

Light a candle to burn
Inside the cavern
Where you have removed

Guts and seeds and stringy
Insides. Cook soup.
Warm your tongue.

Bob for apples and seek
A spirit who may never come.


This is Poem #189 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state. 

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