The Coffee Table – April Poetry

My inspiriation for this poem - the coffee table

The Coffee Table
There are 68 things on this
small table space,
all jumbled together,
almost a disgrace.
Among all the clutter
are fifteen good books,
and fifteen old floppies,
but not one fish hook.
There’s magazines, pencils
red metal toy car,
and a bundle of pens
in a pretty glass jar,
some mail from today
that announces a wedding,
leather gloves always handy
for a bit of cat wrestling.
It’s really quite silly
to see all this here
when it all could be stashed
and the table top cleared.
But you just never know
when you’re going to need
that volume, or pencil,
or magazine to read.
So how did this come
to be SIXTY EIGHT things???
Did those magazines and books
go out for a fling?
(Oh, yeah, and the toy car
drives around in the night,
the baskets start weaving,
the gloves pick a fight.)
~ Not! ~
It’s the hub of the wheel
or our casual life,
the place where we sit.
Daily cares? Take a hike!
 Out of place, but in reach.
I don’t care how it looks.
We can find the remote,
but not one darn fish hook.
 — Deborah L. Tisch, April 10, 2014
 

The Basket ~ April Poetry

the gathering basket
The Basket
Fine strips of wood
In the hands of the artist
Held tightly, placed side by
side, crossed over,
Agile fingers placing each
one,
          Over and under
            Pull and tug, keep it just
so,
                             Again and again…and again…
Line by line
Piece by piece
Fitted together over and
under
The rhythm, the pattern
Finally becoming something
more…
           Shaping, stretching,
                           Again and again.
The places of stress
Where one piece intersects
with another
And where this wood wraps
around that,
Every little corner and
juncture
Adding just a bit more.
              Over and under
                              Pull and tug.
From the pattern of the
weaving
Something beautiful comes.
This vessel, this basket,
A tool to aid in gathering,
Gathering
               Over and over
                            Again and again…and again.
Just like us,
         Full of imperfections,
                With twists and turns, gaps
and lines,
                         Intersections and turnings
              Woven together
                        By The Artist.
                                                                                                   — Deborah L. Tisch, 4//9/14
* * * * * * *
 It’s Day 9.  I think that’s important. Last fall, on Day 9 of National Novel Writing Month, I broke through something and my writing came easier after that.  Let’s hope the same happens this month.  See you tomorrow, same time, same station….

April Poetry – Cowboy

Fingerpainting


My dad has always had large hands
the hands of a hard working man,
crusted with oil and dirt,
covered with callouses.
My little girl hands
knew nothing about how to fingerpaint
except swirling large globs of color
around the page.
One day, I asked him to paint me a cowboy.
Those massive hands
took the colors and smeared them around.
And before my eyes
he took away some of the paint
and magically a cowboy came to life.
This. 
This masterpiece 
is still in my hands, 
which says so much
about the memory 
I hold in my heart.
Deborah L. Tisch, April 2014
 * * * * * * * * *

Twenty-two more days in April, and that means twenty-two more poems.  What was I thinking???  Sharing them here is keeping me on track, and once again, I have to say thank you for your kind words. 
 
 

April Poetry – Ever After

The gift

 This is the ever after.
Rain falling.  Pets making noise.
Tomorrow’s schedule
beckoning
And will I get enough sleep.
Bills need paying and
laundry is waiting.
Oh, and what about that
thing on the house
That needs fixed.
Kids need this and that and
later on
You always want them to call
And you wish for some of
those days back.
Ever after.
It changes every day.
You live in it, ever after.
And you love through it.
Always, somehow, you love.
Happily?
I hope so.
That is what we all wish
For the soon to be bride and
groom.
Go into life and be together
And love and be happy.
Even when it rains, and the
messes
Need cleaned up,
The night is too short for a
full day’s work,
And you still have to do
that laundry,
Take care of stuff
Whether there are kids or
not.
And look at the photos from
that
Special day when you said “I
do” and
Remember.

And you love through it.
Always, somehow, you love.
— Deborah L. Tisch, April 2014
_________________________________________
For the month of April I am joining other writers at Camp NaNoWriMo (www.campnanowrimo.org). My goal is to write a poem every day and share it here.  
I appreciate all the kind comments and words of encouragement you have sent!