Leftover happiness

There’s no forward, everything spins in curves

comes back to the same point and place,

what to do? no backward either, sideways,

the same coordinates,  and nothing swerves

an inch -  only the old sugar jar lid -

I spun it today, the thread broke, couldn’t screw

it back on. Not anything of value,

recycled - mayonnaise? jam? - to begin with,

but it came from somewhere that’s young, happy

the details of contents I’ve forgotten

long ago, just that the memories sweeten

the sugar. I suppose it’ll have to be

thrown away at last, it’s spinning useless -

just have to scoop out the last happiness.

Back in the couch/mouse potato mode and healing as per medical orders, everything went well and I am back at the usual inaction station. This concludes my celebration of the mundane.  

Personally Feb's been a challenging month all round, in fact so far year 2017 shows every sign of turning into a full blown annus horribilis type thingy. Fingers crossed March works out better. 

Leftover Rain

No hearts, no crosses

no gifts, no glyphs,

no trips, no roses,

nothing to spend

except a turn of staunchest shoulder,

and this leftover rain.

I have for you in liningskins

a flicker of red, and green

and in the pureed perfumepot

a curl of smell rising;

the deep caverns of words are still

speckled with fat ladybirds

come pick them up, feel them breathe

brush the leaves and feel them move

ever so slightly, ever so slight

loosen the hammock of strings of silk

holding this leftover rain.

It's been raining non-stop in Bahrain, the impromptu football field next to my home is flooded, the roads have been waterlogged, never seen anything like this here - pouring in the desert. Enjoyed the incessantly glisteny roads and surroundings, everything this last week came with the patina of reflections - glorious! What an amazing gift of the mundane to celebrate!

I am off most of this week - the old breathing apparatus needs some fixing - so I'm flat out and blogless, no phones, no gizmos in the hospital. But can take pen and paper in, always my loyalest and bestest of allies. I'll catch up with you as soon as I get back.  Meanwhile, stay well and have the loveliest of weeks!

Leftover Lives : Write...Edit...Publish...Feb 2017

Hello WEPers

It’s a brand new year at the Write...Edit...Publish... hosted by authors Denise and Yolanda, and I am beyond pleased to able to get back here! Though I have to admit that there’s nothing very brand new about my entry. 

Ever feel that a completely imaginary character has taken over your entire life?? Heba's got me by the throat these days. Remember her? Refugee, mother of 5 children, with 4 surviving when she and her husband Mahmoud found asylum in the USA?  Much as I would have preferred to write something fresh and new and romantic, I mean, Back of the Drawer, c’mon! It’s practically sitting up on its hind legs begging a juicy romantic type..sigh…

Heba walked into my head coolly one morning in November after the US elections and demanded that her story be told.  So I did, for the last WEP in December, and that was that. But apparently was not. Here she is again, insistent, persistent, resistant, the universal sisterhood of women everywhere.

Leftover smoke

Because it isn’t

always a given -

the pleasures of perfume -

I have breathed you in

through my heart

and skin,

through underlying veins

and every other sense

that zithered to life

when you ambled in.

When this whole

is once again

reduced to ash and dust,

what will rise -

no part of me –

but yours first and last

a faint thread, a residue

that’s yours, and only you.

I am not very good totally terrible at the hearts and chocolate and flower type thingies, so I am going with the less spectacular, sometimes acrid even, ways of celebrating this month. The mundane, the routine, the not so noticeable that actually fill our lives with joy and beauty, as a commenter remarked in my previous post.

And I want to just quickly mention that I am back at Write...Edit...Publish... on Wednesday 15th, where the prompt is 'Back of the Drawer' and can be as Valentine-y, or not, as you want.  Here's the list, looking forward to some super fun, definitely not something I'd want to keep in the back of the drawer :)

Leftover blob

In the washing up liquid

a fastener clip snapped off

from an old plastic box lid.

I hadn’t looked at it for years

it had been with me, quietly

storing condiments and candied fruit

like treasures, like secrets.

I examined it again closely today

and the seal was intact

three other clips worked

it could still hold its magic

it would serve its purpose.

At the base was a rough grainy patch

under my finger - a small leftover blob

of glue from the long-ago stripped tag

that no-one had managed to scrub off;

a fine mesh of accumulated dust clung to it

much like time does to love.

Well, it's February. Red heart time. Which I propose to observe in my own way, as I do most years. I'm going to shun the explicit, the dramatic, the OTT and embrace the mundane.  Much poetry in the mundane, I have only to look for it. And. Pay. Attention.