Hemorrhoid Hilda

I'm dedicating this to my Doctor--Susan thanks for the inspiration****

She is not cancerous
just a
pain in the ass.

A stuffed vein
screaming for
an extra glass of water
that should
cut out the
ice cream
and red meat--
red wine
cut back on
the
brie--
groan,
chocolate.
Add more leafy green
assorted bits of orange
and yellow
to her day.
Allowing
her
to cool down
have fewer flare-ups.
Soothed
by another
woman
named hazel
who
comes
highly
recommended.

Weather Forecast

Stubborn
slant
across
wide
forehead
interests
curious
bystanders.

forecast
predicts
intermittent
periods
of
rain
and
shine.

Clearing
to be
followed
by a
some
growth
spurts
and a
couple
phases
of
hormonal
flux
gradually
descending
into
tolerable
and
intolerable
bouts
of
suffering
eventually
coming
full
circle
learning
then
forgetting
about
weather.

I Came to Hear

I came to hear -- the last train whistle leaving Berlin,

escaping to the West-- the only sane noise

left in a young girls ears, blocking out the bombs,

wiping them clean from her memory.

I came to hear-- the growl of empty

stomachs churning from too many days

of gobbling raw potatoes stolen from the farmer’s field.

Bald headed mothers and children—classified undernourished C.

I came to see --the hopeful stare of a mother with five children

who vainly searched for her husband--

drafted and missing.

I came to smell the horror-- of a child

exhumed a month after he died, wrapped in nothing but a blanket,

reburied by his brothers-- tormented with lit cigarettes and cold steel.

I came to learn-- the truth of a young couple and their infant daughter

who immigrated to a new country

glistening with opportunity,

unschooled in the language,

having only their youth and wellbeing.

I came to know-- a young girl

who helped her parents learn the slang and the dialect,

who lived in the railroad apartment on the second floor,

of an old brownstone in Manhattan, where she learned to hate vegetables

and climb fire escapes.

The one with the crooked bangs

and the stubborn smile

who waited and held on tight,

and never forgot

what her Mother told her

about the horror

of war

evil men,

and shame.

A story passed down

piecing together fractured lives,

seizing-- stolen moments,

storing up-- the laughter

and the tears.

I came to hear.

In Training

At twelve
my biggest problem
was negotiating
a weekly allowance.
I earned money
babysitting
and dusting
furniture
for
fifty cents an hour
but that didn’t cut it
especially
when it came time
to get my first
training bra.

Next to getting my
“friend”
the thing that terrorized
me most
was beefy Braun’s gym class.
Man, even her breasts
had muscles.
She wore a
sports bra
under her man uniform
would often
steal a peak
from the showers.
Watching us change
into that ugly one piece
blue uniform
that was always riding
up my butt,
exposing my red pimply
goose bump legs.
Meanwhile cruel young eyes
would whisper
point and chuckle.
Look-she still wears an undershirt
hiss, hiss, meow!
So I begged the old man to have a heart
I was the oldest
had to train them
on how to raise a girl
Didn’t know how they did it
in the old country
didn’t care.

Spring came early the year
I got initiated
into the big girls club.
A club
that I dropped
in High School
diverted by
other things
until they
discovered that
I was short
on my Gym credits.
Of course
by then
I was
out of training.

Revelation

The best place
to hide
is in the open
just below the nose.
Saying out loud
what others
wouldn’t,
couldn’t.
The best secret
stares you down
dares you
to ask
is it true
or just my imagination?
It must be a coincidence
you couldn’t possibly be
telling me,
could you?

Celtic Wedding

inspired by
Pieter Bruegel’s painting “Wedding Dance in the Open Air”
http://www.wga.hu/frames-e.html?/html/b/bruegel/pieter_e/10/index.html


Red ribbons flash, strut
in a green triangle to
an undulating
Celtic pulse. A bawdy shade
plucked out of this human chain.

Book Recipe

I've spent half of my life traveling the globe

the other half looking for my reading glasses
remarkable when creating a new recipe.

Directions are as follows:

Preheat in a humid eighty degree oven.

Grease and flour pens.

In a large saucepan melt
½ cup of sentiment
Remove from heat and add 1 cup sugar.
Substitute eggs with thirty
individual portraits and
one hundred three photos
and add one teaspoon of vanilla.

Beat in
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder,
1/2 cup flour, replace salt with
1/2 cup Watercolor Art depicting local flora and fauna
4 cups pithy verse and provocative prose
and add 1/4 teaspoon of baking powder.


Spread evenly into a prepared pan.

Bake in oven for nine months.

Do not overcook.

To serve:

Sprinkle with passion

Charm with dramatic flair

And toast with a wee dram of Scotch.

A Look Back

Thirty three years
picking up dirty underwear
and socks
well,
actually thirty five
but who’s counting.
Countless trips
to the supermarket
preparing weekly menus
varied and colorful.
Pushing
and pulling
Rainbow vacuums
across lint filled
carpet and ceramic tile.
Bleaching the mildew from
bathroom grout, pulling
matted hair from tub drains.
Raising a precocious child.
Balancing checkbooks,
paying bills on time
weekly cutting the Hawaiian grass.
Washing the two Great Danes,
the two cars, two trucks, boat and four motorcycles
testing the pool alkalinity.
Pulling weeds
lodged between purple
and orange
potted bougainvillea
perched on top of river rock.
Climbing on top of roofs
at thirty eight
to dislodge shingles making sure to
toss them the same way into the truck
and then sweep and sweep and sweep.
Of course
there were
hundred dollar bills
tossed into the air and stuffed into B cups
while dancing to Hank Williams Jr.
after long grueling jobs of
backs bent in two.
Cruising the inside passage to Alaska.
Daring to follow
in the footsteps of the
Apostle Paul
from Civitavecchia to Egypt
Israel the Greek Isles and Athens.
Trips to the outback
combating the ferocious
sticky fly population with the in-laws.
Retired over ten years now
because I chose not to work in a smelly gym
trying to convince pudgy socialites and corporate
divas to back away from the table
and do an extra lap instead.
Releasing the poet
at fifty
to recount
the dim and not so dim memories
of a life well lived
single-mindedly disturbing the
cobwebs
from their menopause cave
sinuous strands glistening
in the tropical sun.

Pithy Proverbs

Fear
is waking up
cold
wrinkled
puffy and
all alone
with no
credits
to your name.

Faith
is
believing
in
unspoiled
fruit
floating
in
a rotten barrel.


Words
contain
power
use them wisely.


Genius
is blind
to
wisdom’s heart

A bad poem
never
shows itself.

A good poem
flits
in the breeze
of reckoning.

Be kind
introduce
yourself
to
the poet within.

Workout Lingo

Warm up for ten minutes to lubricate joints and stretch cold muscles.

Today’s workout will stress barbell exercises
Shrugs, upright rows and curls.


Curls- I only have an hour
I don’t have time
to get my hair done.

Six Word Memoirs-Valentines

Candy hearts confirm who loves who!

Chocolate roses do not need water.

Cheek to cheek spoons love’s tune.

Three little words, rub my back!

Rose petals paint a sensual autograph.

Diamond earrings kiss red paper hearts.

Unspoken words discerned below burnt bridge.

Love’s four letters, care about you.

Love’s proposal transports to seventh heaven.

Poets sing love songs on key.

Slam poets rhyme under yellow moon.

Bench Fly, Cherita

“Hug a tree”, in the gym

a sweaty language
its meaning dim.

A dumbbell fly in the hood
flexed by rats in sweats
their sneakers laced good.

Child Molesters

Edited---This subject took on special meaning to me when a friend of a friend was charged with Child Molestation and is now serving ten years in prison. This man is 70 years old and also a hoarder.
I wrote another poem about his hoarding titled the Crab Shack, had I known then, that poem would’ve been much different. His family is still trying to get rid of all the stuff he amassed.


I'm the next door neighbor
a friend of a friend as
I shop through my life
to manage this trend.
Young boys coerced
drawn to will stay,
to fan my obsession
and blow me away.
Frightened by my longings
their eyes open wide
choke dark secrets
this horror must hide.
If their Daddy finds out
they will go away
and I'll have
no more special friend
no more sick play.
I'll tell you
it’s love
that’s why
I hang around
but love shouldn’t
hurt
make you feel bad
or hide in the shadows
stalking and sad.


Mother's
caution your babies--
on new friends debate
advise your children
to always tell,
lest they become
the hunted,
lost-- inside their shell.

Meadow Pause

Meadow Pause

By Cornelia DeDona

Book Preview

Boogey Fever

Boogey Fever

By Cornelia DeDona

Book Preview

Dessert

Dessert
is sweet
on the tongue,
it satisfies
the taste buds,
it completes
a special meal,
and it is
time spent
with a good
friend,
sharing past history
without judgment.
It leaves you
privileged
and
content.

Persistent Noise

It persisted
throughout the day
the drip, drip, drip,
ping, ping, ping
clap, clap clap,
until I stopped hearing it.
The sounds retreating
into the background,
to a distant roar
of a thousand hands
clapping,
encouraging minds
to delve deeper
to pursue
with a vengeance
that which needed
to be drawn out.
As a bucket lowered
into a deep well
deeper and deeper
until the only sound left
was the creak of the crank.
At the bottom a splash
drifting upward
higher
louder until,
water
icy cold
and wet
guzzled down.
Clear fresh water
pulled out of the earth
returning back towards the sky
an endless cycle
of energy
redeposited
into our depleted frames
multiplying
percentages
a thousand fold
until the roar
becomes us.

Pele’s Faith

A poem about doubt and faith

Nature is never rash,
doesn’t deviate from the plan.
Day into Night
Spring
Summer
Fall and
Winter.
Perfect progress
dominates her canvas,
conserves the integrity
of her seed.
She nourishes
her offspring
that worries not
about belief.
Even now
flawless
in her beauty.
Prudently marking time
her cauldrons simmer
beneath fiery lakes
dripping molten art.
Leaving indelible
impressions
vibrant and intense,
this testimony
cloaked in
nothing
save a
crimson smile.

Word Play

Use the following VERBS to write a poem or story-
Racket, Snug, Green, Spoon, Boggle, Snake


I recently returned from a trek
climbing the Haiku Steps
popularly known as
“The Stairway to Heaven”,
seven thousand steps roundtrip
climbing a sheer rock face
exposed to the wind and rain
not for the faint of heart.
My hiking boots racketed
down the metal stairs.
Gloved hands
grasped the rusted
rickety railing as I
silently prayed my
legs would hold up
my cadence, remain constant.

My partner shushed
me, from the trail as he snaked his
way back from the banana patch
to make water, making sure
his camouflage jacket snugged
through the dense undergrowth
boggling the female boar suckling her young.
As she spooned later with her mate
safely beneath the lush fern
jungle,
greening
in the
Hawaiian sun.

Unconscious

(From a poem titled Dover Beach by Matthew Arnold
one of the writing starter’s at Saturday’s Writing Retreat, I used this sentence and crafted a poem (“Ignorant armies clash by night”)



Ignorant armies clash by night
in the darkness of their sin
blinded by the shadows,
forced to march
through the trenches
to save the soil from
a hedonistic fate.
Then reason that they were following orders
not fully understanding the why.
Never, fully understanding
the ramifications
of how, who, and why.
Many return from their tour of duty
and continue
to trudge through
the dark corners of their minds
in a maze of self doubt.
Trudging on toward some
unholy reward
where all
the cheese is
a moulded dark shade
of green.
A place where green rules
the world and the world
is decayed and remembers
little, about other colors
or about truth.