Skip to main content

Stuck On A Theme

 Sharing with The Sunday Muse #242.



They will dress me in the tiles that fall
If they leave me dressed at all
They will say I was place apart
Where commerce deep-fried art
 Once, they called my children rats
They sneer past my collapse
They forget themselves in me
I took and sold their stories.

Jim, your post from last week really stuck in my head and inspired a short novella about a mannequin that decided she'd prefer apotheosis to recycling...which means malls and stores are still fermenting in the back of my head. 


Merlin has been suffering from seasonal allergies this past week, which meant he was at the vet yesterday and today is snoozing off his medicine (and all the salmon treats he's been given...bacon of the sea, bacon of the sea, swimming with the fishes so deliciously!) and enjoying the cool & not rainy weather. 

Sending good & cozy wishes!

-- Chrissa 

Comments

  1. I absolutely love your poem for that painting Chrissa! The opening line is wonderful with wonderful rhythm and the closing line is brilliant! I hope that Merlin is feeling better soon. 💙Cozy vibes headed your way too my friend! I hope to read your manaquin novela!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Poor Merlin, a lot of people don't think of their pets as capable of having allergies.
    Your poem, it sounds like she's a nosey and user of their troubles.
    For attorneys, they call this "Ambulance chasing."
    ..

    ReplyDelete
  3. Interesting poem Chrissa; luv that it rhymes. Hope Merlin feels better soon

    Good Sunday
    much❤love

    ReplyDelete
  4. That was an interesting route to take with the photo! I hope Merlin feels better soon!

    ReplyDelete
  5. "Where commerce deep-fried art" !!!!!

    ReplyDelete
  6. I especially love those two opening lines, Chrissa. Feel better quickly, Merlin!

    ReplyDelete
  7. Get better soon Merlin....very cute dog !

    ReplyDelete
  8. Feel better soon Merlin. "They will say I was place apart Where commerce deep-fried art" Love the whole poem, but that is a wow line for me!!

    ReplyDelete
  9. Good wishes for Merlin. My sister has a cat that has asthma. Love you take on this art.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Turn Away

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse , for #193. Turn away, like the moon, listening... Listening to the planet that rumbles with a hundred million slaps. All the feet, all the rockets, all the  pistons in the cars on the asphalt over the chasm where the veins run deep, blue in sunlight, black at night. Running over the chasm.  Once or twice they ran to you. Once or twice they ran by. Greetings and salutations. The sky is an entertaining shade of concrete yellow as the rain promised earlier in the week makes good on its arrival. It's a disturbing bright sallow sky, the kind of sky that puts you in mind of old movies and degraded film stock and the pops and crackles incidental to the main story.  Several years ago I made a resolution to journal more and last year I came across a video that suggested I actually re-read those journals, at least those of the previous year, at the beginning of each new year. Technically, I have kept the journal resolution, making daily notes in...

By the Roadside

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse #260  with much appreciation to Carrie & Shay & everyone. Just a reminder: if you have a poetry book, please drop a title in the comments. My TBR won't thank you, but I will. :)    I drive by the armadillos, dead where they fell. Sunlight is so heavy it folds into damp shimmers. All the roads are widening, dispersing the ditches, Grinding out parking lots, killing slow steps. I speed up; crisp winter in the passenger seat. We will arrive at the store soon; I will drag her Chill, into the store. Breathe for both of us. Brightness distorts the lots, now grown gigantic. Roads need blood, the state needs the kills. We will make it through barriers if we wear them: Dead armadillos, caliche dust, gunmetal sunshine.

To Blue Fields Far Below

 Sharing with The Sunday Muse #228 , The Fashionable Twenties.  A sycamore fairy sits crosslegged in the road Dragons swim toward smooth hills above the storms Vines embrace the telephone poles  Someone washed the blue skies and she knows  It's time to dare the salty foam It's time to wade through the eternal fields' folds And gather golden apples for home.  Hoping this finds you with space to daydream and a good book in which to wander. Working on turning last week's prompt into a longer piece, as I found myself intrigued by the idea of tea in the garden as combat. Social situations are not my forte. As it's still Spider September, there will be a chihuahua-sized jumping spider that is none too happy about anything but hunting squirrels (that's for you, Mom).  -- Chrissa