Reasonable people may disagree

on this issue which is to say 
that in the minestrone soup of 
life there swim at least some morsels 
whose value may be a matter of taste

not to worry we can agree to agree 
that we‘ll never agree on whether 
the beans are more integral than the pasta 
to its quintessential flavor 

and in our spare time we may disagree 
unreasonably on anything we wish 
for we agree variety is the spice of life 
but minestrone mustn’t be too spicy

#NaPoWriMo 2/30

The Nest

They were told that their grip might‬ ‪

be strangling me, that despite‬ ‪

all the danger they could not‬ ‪

keep me forever just caught‬ ‪

in the nest they’d made for me.‬ ‪

They are told that this virus 

waits hidden, that their children‬ ‪

long gone from their home just want‬ ‪

them to keep themselves safely‬ 

‪here in the nest, far away from harm.‬


#NaPoWriMo 1/30

A Halloween Sonnet

When ghosts fly haunting through the misty air,
When skulls and ghouls and vampires fill the night,
We don our masks of creatures foul and fair,
In hopes of turning heads and giving fright.

I ask my daughter what she wants to be -
A zombie walking, rotting, down the road,
A jack-o-lantern, or a spry palm tree,
A flying pixie or a hopping toad.

Or hey, why not a knight or dragon strong,
A princess brave and smart, a doctor kind,
An skillful bard who plays a spooky song,
A teacher tending gardens of the mind?

I ask her who she wishes to become,
And hear her bright imagination hum.



Some brief thoughts:
On Halloween, we put on masks not only to scare, but for many other reasons ranging from the social to the inspirational. Groups of friends and teams of coworkers dress in themes, bonding and becoming something greater together. Some people's favorite part is the making of costumes, whether to express their creativity or their love for someone who cannot make one themselves. Children in particular only sometimes pick their costumes based on their impact on others. This holiday offers them a chance to be who they want to be, or who they dream of becoming some day.
(Caveat - I don't have children, and can only speak from personal experience and observation.)

#MedLimericks, Part 1

Inspired by: @DShadowgazer

For headache without complication,
A brain scan has no indication.
In such cases you’ll see
That a good H&P
Is more helpful than irradiation.
(http://www.choosingwisely.org/societies/american-college-of-radiology/)
 
If potassium’s staying too low
And you feel like there’s nowhere to go,
Please remember that you
Need magnesium too,
For together their levels may grow.

When sleep apnea’s troubling your rest
CO2 fills your blood and your chest,
But with CPAP at night
You’ll stay up when it’s bright
And your mood will not be so depressed!
(http://jcsm.aasm.org/ViewAbstract.aspx?pid=30173)

Many doctors remain unaware
Of the power of palliative care.
It’s not just for the dying,
But for anyone crying
In suffering, pain, or despair.

Of All My Heart

My heart is an impossible zoo,
Transplanted a few centuries ago
From the left side of my chest
To the middle of my head.

Curiosity races through dense grassland
As judgment towers high above,
Bending down to drink from pools of memory
While watching for anger and fear lurking below.

Yet as all things do with time,
The long edges grow fuzzy,
The habitats stretching loosely
Down my neck, my back, my toes.

Swarms of shame flutter in my stomach
And worry hops from wrist to shoulder
To forehead, where anxiety sits,
Waiting to squeeze and paralyze.

Still, at least you can still find love and bliss
Galloping together from my ears to my eyes,
Their rhythmic steps blurring worry’s path
So that it gets lost along the way.

And you might hear gratitude and calm howling
So loudly that all the predators hide away,
Letting joy perch safely in my cheeks
As care swims down to my hands.

Hope is a handed-down drum

Hope is a handed-down drum,
Worn out over decades of use.
I hold it in my hands, over my head
And let the rain pound down upon it
The music drowning out the deluge,
Letting me walk through the storm.

Sometimes, after a fierce hail,
Some wayward drop will pierce
Right through the battered top.
Suddenly I fear any light shower
Might fill it up till the water’s weight
Breaks through and drowns me.

I rush to the nearest friend
And ask for shelter and fabric
And time to piece it together,
Until I can spend the hours I need
To repair my drum properly
Once I am safely at home.

Poetry is a Mad Mirror

I wrote this in response to poet/teacher Taylor Mali's MetaphorMonday on 8/6/18 (and ended up winning!). As you can see, he has made these Metaphor Dice that make the hardest part of poetry - starting - a little easier. This metaphor is particularly rich, and it was much fun to reflect upon.