Bits and Whatnots, Poetry

A Snowpocalypse Poem

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Plucky yellow Smart Car
Struggling down my street
Intent on your destination.

Your fortitude astounds me
The entirety of your vehicle
Balancing in the solitary rut
Of a long gone snow plow.

Your determination as solid
As the mountain of ice and snow
Blocking my own driveway.

And yet, Oh! How you soldier forth
Focused on the effort
Nay! The NEED
To reach civilization.

Plucky yellow Smart Car
Sir, I salute you
As you fishtail by
Blackened smoke jetting from your exhaust pipe
As though you were hyperventilating
Perhaps you are.

Though we both know
The only human contact you will likely find
Will be the tow truck that comes
After you have frozen for three hours in a ditch
Just up the road.

Still, you tried
And so, Good Sir
I wish you
Godspeed
And raise my fist to the air for you
In silent solidarity.

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Bits and Whatnots, Poetry

The Twelve Days of an Ice Storm Christmas.

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On the first day of Christmas, Santa brought to me

Some herniated back discs, three.

On the second day of Christmas, Santa brought to me

Spinal stenosis

And some herniated back discs, three.

On the third day of Christmas, Santa brought to me

Three days no power

Spinal stenosis

And some herniated back discs, three.

On the fourth day of Christmas, Santa brought to me

Four freezing children

Three days no power

Spinal stenosis

And some herniated back discs, three.

On the fifth day of Christmas, Santa brought to me

Five weeks, no paycheck

Four freezing children

STILL NO POWER!

Spinal stenosis

And some herniated back discs, three.

On the sixth day of Christmas, Santa brought to me

Mountains of laundry

Five weeks, no paycheck

Four freezing children

NO! Don’t flush the toilet!

Spinal stenosis

And some herniated back discs, three.

On the seventh day of Christmas, Santa brought to me

Woot! A generator!

Mountains of laundry

Five weeks, no paycheck

Four freezing children

I just want a shower. PLEASE!

Spinal stenosis

And some herniated back discs, three.

On the eighth day of Christmas, Santa brought to me

A never-ending ice storm

Woot! A generator!

I know it’s dirty. Just wear it.

Five weeks, no paycheck

Mom? I can’t feel my fingers!

I’m going to kill myself tripping over these friggin’ extension cords!

Spinal stenosis

And some herniated back discs, three.

On the ninth day of Christmas, Santa brought to me

Warm, spoiled groceries

A never-ending ice storm

Gas for the generator costs HOW MUCH?

Mountains of laundry

Five weeks, no paycheck

S-s-s-s-s-soooooo c-c-c-c-c-c-cold, M-M-M-Mommy!

SERIOUSLY? I need to wash my hair. Seriously.

Spinal stenosis

And some herniated back discs, three.

On the tenth day of Christmas, Santa brought to me

A kid with flaring asthma

Great. Just great. A month’s worth of meat, wasted.

How long can one ice storm last?

FREAKING GAS GOUGERS!

I know there’s no clean laundry! I know it! Just wear it!

STILL NO PAYCHECK.

Mom? Help! I’m frozen to the toilet!

If we unplug the fridge and the space heater, maybe we can light up the Christmas tree for a minute.

Spinal stenosis

And some herniated back discs, three.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, Santa brought to me

Six inches snow fall

Unplug everything, I need to fire up the nebulizer.

Will insurance cover all this lost food?

The longest Christmas week ice storm in history. Yay.

This generator does NOT last eleven hours once it’s filled. False advertising. You suck.

It’s okay to live in dirty pajamas, kids, no matter what I’ve told you before.

I’m never getting my paycheck. Never ever ever.

MOM!! My toes turned blue and fell off!! Am I going to die?

Not to scare you kids, but I’m pretty sure this is the beginning of the Zombie Apocalypse.

Spinal stenosis

And some herniated back discs, three.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, Santa brought to me

HECK YEAH! I think I see….if I squint just right….an energy company truck down the road!

Really? MORE SNOW?

Please stop coughing. Please stop coughing.

Well….the bread isn’t spoiled. Here, eat some bread.

Okay, so the iced over trees would look kind of pretty, if they weren’t responsible for the destruction of mankind.

It stopped! Whose turn is it to refill the generator? Go, go, GO!

Layers, kids, it’s all about layers. I don’t care if you look like a marshmallow.

PLEASE. SEND. MY. PAYCHECK.

Mommy? I can’t blink…..I think my eyeballs are frozen.

No but seriously though….isn’t this how “The Walking Dead” started out?

Spinal stenosis

And some herniated back discs, three.

Poetry

“Faire, Faire, Baby” (My Ren Faire parody of Vanilla Ice’s “Ice Ice Baby”)

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“Faire, Faire, Baby”

(Yes, you may share this. No, not without my name and link attached to it. I would seriously LOVE it if one of my Ren Faire friends would pick this up and actually perform it! 🙂 )

STOP!! Pirate up, and listen!

Faire is back, casting auditions!

Smokin…holdin’ on tightly

Joustin’ on horses, manly and knightly!

Never gonna stop

Yo….ho, yo ho!

Pull out your swords

And let’s go!

If you got a problem

Take it to the King

Once you get it settled

Join with me and sing

Faire, Faire, baby

Bum bum bum bada bum bum

Let’s go to Ren Faire, baby

Bum bum bum bada bum bum

There’s dancers

Swingin’ on stage

Hands to yourselves, boys

(One’s underage!)

The Queen’s Court

Bow to the Crown

On hands and on knees

Get your nose to the ground!

And mermaids

Splashing their tails

Better not touch

You might end up in jail!

There’s pirates!

Sailin’ on ships

More belly dancers

Swingin’ their hips.

If you got a problem

Take it to the King

Once you get it settled

Join with me and sing

Faire, Faire, baby

Bum bum bum bada bum bum

Let’s go to Ren Faire, baby

Bum bum bum bada bum bum

There’s Scotsmen

Kilts sway in the breeze

Hitch it up higher

And give us a tease!

This days hot!

You know what we need?

Slip to the pub

And order some meade!

There’s witches!

Casting and chanting

Corseted wenches

Breathless and panting.

It’s Sunday!

Rest in the shade

Cannon’s gone off,

Time for cast to get…….

………………

Paid.

If you got a problem

Take it to the King

Once you get it settled

Join with me and sing

Faire, Faire, baby

Bum bum bum bada bum bum

Let’s go to Ren Faire, baby

Bum bum bum bada bum bum

(More verses may be forthcoming. Stay tuned!)

Grief, Poetry

My Sister, My Best Friend

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My Sister, My Best Friend

By Valarie E. Kinney

 

When I was a little girl and

My sleep was filled with nightmares

I could run down to my sister’s room

Find peace and comfort there.

Sleepily, she’d raise her head

Pull the covers back and whisper,

“Come in, climb up, and snuggle down

Sleep well, my little sister.”

The summer that I turned sixteen

And learned to drive a car

She taught me how to drive a stick

We never drove too far.

Just up and down that old dirt road

Where we three kids grew up

Listening to Poison

And the screaming of the clutch.

The morning of my wedding day

So nervous I could hardly think

She rearranged my veil just right

And painted my nails pink.

When I became a mother

Unsure of how to do it right

She helped me calm the baby

Get her sleeping through the night.

I called her one day sobbing

And the sweetest words were spoken

When my oldest child went off to school

And I thought my heart was broken.

Four years ago, we lost our Dad

I didn’t think that I could take it

She held me and reminded me,

“We’re Savage girls, we’ll make it.”

Throughout the fails and victories

The challenges of years

The ins, the outs, the upside-downs

She kept me laughing through my tears.

My sister has been my anchor

In my life, I’ve always known

That she was just a call away

No matter the trouble life has thrown.

And now it seems just far too soon

For me to — broken hearted — whisper

“I love you to the moon and back,

Sleep well, my precious sister.”

Poetry

Dear Dad

Dear Dad,

Four years; how has it been so long?

Sometimes I can’t believe

That it really has been so much time

Since the day you had to leave.

So much has changed; the kids have grown

You’d be so proud of them

I know that you would love to see

Them growing into women and young men.

Olivia is turning seventeen

She does so well in school

In Honors, doing clinicals

She’s so smart and beautiful.

(And Dad! We just bought her first prom dress. I wish you could see her

in it. She is perfect.)

And Savannah, Dad, her hair is blue!

She’s still playing the guitar

Thinks she’ll be a photographer

This year, she learned to drive a car.

Donovan has changed so much

You’d hardly recognize

This young man with the deeper voice

And wisdom in his eyes.

And Brennan, he’s a riot!

No more baby face

He just did the Pinewood Derby

Guess what? Dad, he won third place!

Our family has faced trials

We will not give up the fight

But it seems like since we lost you, Dad

Nothing has gone right.

And yet. And yet, Dad…..I know you are not completely gone.

Genetic echoes, they surround me

Alive in my own mirror

In my children’s laughs and snorts and shoulder shakes

Your legacy is clear.

Never will there be a day

When missing you hurts less

But there is still room for laughter

In this chaotic mess.

There is still room for beauty

Room for family, room for smiles

There is still room for happiness

And jokes, once in a while.

We have to take your memory

And shape it just to fit

The hole left by your passing

And the agony it left.

In doing so, we’re whole again

Broken; bruised and bent and battered

But….

Still strong, still here, still pushing on

Although our hearts were shattered.

Broken pieces seem to have a way

Of melding back together

Not quite the same as once before

Still whole, but changed forever.

April 1, 2009

I miss you so much, Dad. If I had known the last time was really the

last time, I would never have let you go