WRWA Newsletter.pub - Wisconsin Writers Association

Page 22
Abloom
by Art Schmitz
She woke and lifted up her head
And cocked one eye which plainly said
Is someone here to look at me
Or must I cry in misery
Her glance went round and saw me there
She took the time for a longer stare
Then opened her lips in pleasure wide
And smiled as I stood by her side
Her warm and fuzzy form I took
To the shoulder and my elbows crook
Then jauntily we turned around
To mother with a happy bound
Mother laid her down with care
And peeled off this and that from there
Revealing a red spotted shape
Recipe for Editing a Poem
by Peg Sherry
Poise your sharpest knife, slice the meat, trim the fat,
parcel out the customary bits, tossing scraps and bones.
Chop celery; chop strong onions; weeping tears, add feeling.
Boil the richest stock, then simmer slowly, slowly.
Sniff. Inhale the rising steam, envision blackened stoves
hot with crackling wood, iron pots that bubble broth.
Listen to the essence sigh. Hum, hum low and long
till deep within the soup its spirit sings your song.
A Cute Little Stinker
By Don Schambow
Our olfactory senses sound alarm whenever he is near.
He exudes an offal odor,
qualifying him for the endangered species list.
His capacity to offend knows no end.
Does he associate with unsavory characters
Possessing very good traits,
among his own he’s regarded with pride.
His mate finds him attractive.
His offsprings idolize him
and emulate all his moves.
He embraces black and white.
Is his vilification unmerited,
existing only in the eye of the beholder
We tend to avoid, reject, exterminate him,
change our life styles, alter our activities, and
beat a hasty retreat; if it’s likely we might meet.
How do we communicate with those
who don’t speak our language
Do we try to live in peaceful coexistence,
to see the world through his eyes,
to share his point of view,
to avoid the territory he often roams
He merely attempts to survive and
live life as normal as possible.
We invade his territory,
threatening his home and life style.
He retaliates in the only way he knows.
And, if he didn’t create such an awful smell,
We’d call him a cute little stinker.
Emergency Room by Marsha Jordan
I was driving home from church one snowy Sunday when
my van skidded on a patch of ice and overturned. As the ambulance
transported me to the hospital, police phoned the husband
to notify him.
I lay in the emergency room eagerly waiting for him to
come. "What could be keeping him" I asked the nurse.
"Well, the police said they can't reach him," she explained.
"But I know he's home," I told her. "He wasn't planning to
leave the house today. He's working on his boat."
"I need to check on your x-rays," she said, walking to the
door. "I'll see if there is any news on your husband too."
When she came back, she told me, "The police are still trying
to reach him. They've called several times but they got no
answer. They even went to your house, but nobody came to
the door when they knocked. They did talk to your neighbor,
though. He said he'd go into your house, find your husband,
and let him know you're here."
I fumed for hours until that evening when the husband finally
arrived. I was more than a little perturbed.
"Where in the world have you been" I demanded.
"I was in the basement all day," was his innocent reply.
"Weren't you curious about why I didn't come home from
church this morning" I asked through clenched teeth.
"I was busy and didn't notice the time," he said. "I thought
you were just on an all-day shopping marathon."
My temper was ready to blow like a bald tire on a Volkswagon
bus. "Why didn't you answer the door or the phone" I
snapped.
"I didn't hear them," he said defensively. "The neighbor
didn't come over and give me the message till five o'clock."
"Five o'clock" I shrieked. "It's seven thirty now! What
took you so long to get here"
He winced as if he knew his answer wouldn't please me.
Then he stammered, "Well…I had to…stop…at the junk yard
to see the damage to the car."
Lucky for him I was restrained by a back brace. If I hadn't
been strapped to the table, he might have needed emergency
surgery—to remove my purse from his forehead. #