Posted in Books & Stories, Over Coffee

As Easy As Stars For Coffee

https://grandpacalledthemhotpies.blogspot.com/2018/08/as-easy-as-stars-for-coffee.html

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Posted in Books & Stories, Fiction & Poetry, Improv, Just Poetry

OK Then

 

OK Then

 

Sitting here staring at the screen

Know what I mean

Want to write

Don’t know what to say

Time ticks on get to wok soon

No that would be work

Learn to spell on the to-do

Get up get dressed wash the face

But first maybe

Nutella on toast

Excellent choice

Gotta stop now then

I’ll try again later

Or later again

 

 

 

Posted in Books & Stories, Improv, Just Poetry, new year

Off The Cuff In A Bikini Top

 

 Nothing to do with cuffs as the expression goes

Nor cufflinks

Back to bikinis though

At my age should I care?

Not at all

If you don’t like what you see

Look away from me

You know, over there

 

It’s Sunday morning and I’m not worried, nary a care with two more days to spare

Holidays ahead, festivities to be had

What will I do in order to keep relaxing?

Right now collecting vitamin D from the sun calorie free

Did that yesterday too

That’s the best way as sweat drips the best cleanser there is

I stay over my blanket droplets not on the phone where I record what’s on my mind

Later on I’ll go inside, type then post so you can see what’s going on today

 

Believe it or not I went to the store earlier

To see if they have my favorite hot cocoa

Whoever heard of hot cocoa in 87° heat but stockpile it why not

My need half-and-half for my espresso though in this weather I don’t drink as much

It makes me sweat

Again cleanses the body so that’s not bad

All these thoughts taking a gander through hoping to pass the time

I won’t read that I don’t want to drip on my book

The pages will wrinkle and warp

T’would be a shame so I’ll stop now wrap it up

Relax see how much time I’ve taken

If I have to turn back for one last few minutes of toasting

Before I go in

As the air conditioning begins

 

 

Posted in Books & Stories, Improv, new year

April 2017 Wraps It Up

 

April intends to keep raining like I intend to make espresso very soon. Might just stop what I’m doing and get into the kitchen. There’s that word might. Am I not certain I’m going to get into the kitchen? I know I will, I know I can. Ha, but maybe now which means I’ll still my fingers and get up. Listen to that rain. A couple of claps of thunder during the night, some silent lightening against the sky as if a lamp’s bulb snapped out unexpected but I fell back into slumberland in spite of it. I’ve no intention of going anywhere or doing any more than relaxing with a few good movies and good company.

 

My only concern right now is what size espresso pot, how many shots…

 

 

Posted in Just Poetry, Non-Fiction And Poetry

Salt Lamp

 

Up at two

What’ll I do

Maybe finish that movie

Then go to sleep for a while I thought

Now it’s four

Then I remembered

That lamp

So I unthreaded it along the dresser

And behind the chair

Brought it into the living room

On the end table

To put it there for you

Like you’d asked

It’s on now with soft glow

Good for purifying air

Ionization if I recall

I’ll have to look it up again

But I do feel like lying down

Oh, I don’t know

Espresso’d be good but have to get to the store

Oh my and a yawn

Almost out of cream

Well, half n half

Wish I’d gotten more yesterday

Instead bee-lined it home

That’s ok

I’ll have time today to get some more

Wonder if I’ll take the bus to the post office too

Just thinking

What I’ll do

 

 

 

Posted in Books & Stories, Current Insurgencies, Improv

Grandma’s Christmas

 

I am very tired not from anything constructive that’s kept me so occupied all day but from relaxation. True that with each thing I did, like washing my face, I cleared the sink off, sprayed it down and cleaned it, finally got to the mirror and removed splash spots and going to the bathroom I put a new tablet in the tank and washed the bowl. I’d been peacefully asleep but the winds picked up to the point of rattling windows as if they would blow out of their frames, well more accurately it sounded as if the wall might be ripped open while rain slapped the side of the building. Kind of like sleeping through a tornado it wouldn’t have been impossible to sleep through it all but this sensation insisted on presenting itself that I could be getting very wet very soon. “Oh, the towel” that’d been draped over a chair on the balcony made me wonder if it were still there not that it would have more of an impact than a wall being torn off a building. Nonetheless I got up to check and was surprised when I went to its rescue it just wasn’t that wet. Is this scenario, or should I say this time around the bark of the elements was worse than their bite? I don’t even care if that sentence makes sense. That towel I now have hanging in the bathroom with a fan blowing on it to dry is making the entire place smell wonderfully fresh. Now that’s worthwhile.

 

And I’m annoyed with myself for letting this thing distract me when all I want to do is close my eyes.

 

While I’m thinking of it I’m taking my stuff into the bedroom. Maybe I’ll stop typing and find a movie to lull me back not that I think it’ll take much effort on my part to nod off. There goes that wind again pushing the unseasonably warm out of the way of the cold it should be. Huh, says who… Is that thunder? There’s the rain again that shouldn’t be here, by now it was supposed to have stopped. Do the weathermen really know for sure? Mother nature smiles a “the hell you say”.

 

In any case like I said, I am tired and for the last time I’m going to read this thing through. Though under the covers my slippers aren’t keeping my feet warm and my flannel shirt isn’t keeping the rest of me warm.

 

Oh bother!

 

 

 

Posted in Books & Stories, Improv

The Page Is Blank No More

 

Well the title takes care of that. Enjoying the peace once again. The neighbors in the adjacent and lower apartments have finally called it a night – nice of them to throw in the towel around 5 a.m. This isn’t campus but the real world or it’s supposed to be. Still I wonder if they think because it’s a college town they have the right. One of these days they’ll act up in the wrong place like those Olympians did. Enjoy your consequences. Hope I’m a safe distance away when I read about them. Thanks for the inspiration nonetheless. Would I have come up with something to write about anyway? I hope so.

 

So what else? A slight chill because my heat isn’t on yet. The weather has been cooperative and not quite at freezing. The sun shining through the glass doors warms everything nicely maintaining through most of the night. A healthier way to sleep I hear but I wouldn’t mind a fireplace. I wonder how long I’d keep just warm enough and turning on the heat at bay. I grew up with such ideas. My father was a misplaced pioneer. First he had a coal burning stove in the basement to heat the house, then moved on to a wood burning stove, or was it the other way around. Then the furnace was replaced. It was nothing to rise and feed the stove but a treat to have the heat set to run on its own. Living in northern Italy near the Alps the only insulation my room had was shutters on the windows. Beautiful, brisk… Blankets and dressing warm made sense along with hot cocoa, espresso, and hot toddies.

 

And so ends my Sunday good-morning. It’s still dark at 5:21. Maybe hot cider for a change. Just bought more cinnamon sticks…

 

 

 

Posted in Fiction & Poetry, Thought Food

Early This Morning

 

 

I rose early hours to sneak across the street

Not that it wasn’t light

It was but not bright

Not yet

But peaceful, so quiet

 

Getting back

 

I walk through the dew with sandals

Eww… cold wet feet

They’ll dry

To my ramps on and off

I cross the highway

One car passes by

A half-hearted attempt to break the sound barrier

“You first” shimmers through my mind

Under cables I limbo to reach the other side

 

Why?

 

I adore 24-hour stores

And shopping when no one’s awake

Shelves are stocked

Floors buffed bright

What a delight

Well, not the floors so much

But being able to shop without crowds

The smells of coffee even there

As café counters wake

Bread is baked food cooking

Cold cuts unwrapped and placed

We sleepy smile at each other and nod

Those of us who simply must be

I find my few things

The reasons for my quest

Others enter now

They begin but I’m done

I commune with an electronic teller and leave

No penny exchange

Cards and promises remain

Better hold up my end

Not like I’ll be giving it back

Whatever the future holds

 

I make my way home

Across ramps, under cables

Allow cars to zoom past

Four or five more than before

Still peaceful enough

A cool morning too

Perfect

Unpack my bag so I can write

Make espresso

Get comfortable a red pillow on the floor

A coffee table named rightly so

Words’d been running through my mind as I’d stepped out the door

You know, as I was walking through dew

I thought, “Damn, wrong time to type (confounded muse)

Hope I remember something when I get back

Interesting what inspires, those simple things

Like a walk across the highway to get to a store…”

 

Well that’s it

Going to freshen up my espresso

Think of something to watch

Vampires my preference for Sunday

Apropo

But I may not disturb this peace yet

Food for thought

I don’t know

A day off, chillaxin’

No pressing place to go

Posted in Books & Stories, Family, Fiction & Poetry

Rationalize Backwards To That Safe Place And Don’t Move

 

 

 

It’s sad I guess, no one wanted to talk

All too busy

Lack of truths hurts the heart

Even expected, so familiar this way

Heaviness weighs, hope sinks for a moment

But it’s resurrection day

 

To commemorate what

Let’s think

Brutality, murder, abandonment

How could you leave me this way?

But wait, that was past Friday

Why hear it today?

 

So I’m sitting here now

Heavy-hearted anyway

How soon before I’m told

Don’t bother anymore

Life with you is just too old

Don’t come around

 

New relationships enter in

Who invited them but

 

There’re others now

No history they hold

Easier to deny, easier to unfold

You never happened here

No memory to hold dear

It’s all your fault that life you shared

 

With us

 

I was surprised too

Hey

I did my best and didn’t burden you

I carried it in myself

Alone

You found out later after the fact had gone

 

No turning back from this

A forward path anew

New life forever clear except to you

Never liked you anyway

Makes it easier to do

Though pain won’t go away

 

That’s mine

It finds a spot and stays

Dwell on me not or what they say

 

Find a place

A culture steeped in sin

The deadliest and true

Look away turn around back straight

Remove the stars, the bars

Not worthy of our ranks

 

Matriarch of the ranks these days

Kids have no respect

Ha!

 

Social class rules

Financial class too

We’re finished now with you

Neatly placed right in the trash

Be free to be all that you are

It will not touch us this your scar

 

But you had a hand in this too

I came to you

I tried though I knew

Heavy heart even then though respect you I must

 

Advice you gave now you deny

I’ve come to see, to realize respect is respect has no bearing

Love is forever no matter

It’s ok to use my own brain, my common sense

Laugh head thrown back, safe from afar

Stay close now life

Here I go and see us through

Step forward motion

Will have to do

 

 

“Whoa… that’s depressing. I don’t like the way this came out at all.” She who was named after a saint looked at the screen shaking her head. “Named after a saint or was it just a lottery I didn’t get named Barbara Ann because my cousin was born first.” Each side of the family had a different story, a different take on how it all happened. Having a husband was the norm. If you weren’t part of the norm it was whispered about but love ruled! No one was left out. In those days everyone was pregnant at once. It all was contingent on who went into labor first. The family was tight. Picture three to five pregnant women, Italian pregnant women getting together over cake and coffee discussing names, and at the same time standing as long as they could at the stove making sauce and meatballs. Was there ever a day with no spaghetti? Margaret Mary read everything over. “I’m digressing. What did I want to write? What brought this to mind? Let me start again. Hmmm, Margaret Mary… I’ll have to google her and find out if she was anything significant. Naming a kid after a saint invites a world of trouble before s/he even gets started, well, in my case she. I prefer the lottery theory. But I didn’t really want to write a dirge. Seemed like a good idea at the time…”

 

Good morning Sunday though indeed you rain

You’ll be warm enough that’s a plus

Need to go shopping

So wanted to walk

Wonder how it’ll turn out

With writing this morning a bust

She was reminded of something she’d heard on a radio station from long ago, “the officer stuck his gun in her chest and said ‘this is a bust’…” She’d busted out laughing, “yeah, no kidding” – gotta love 60’s humor.

 

“No, that’s not it either. Think. Well, I love doing this so no stressure… I like that, stressure… oh, so what. It’s fine the way it is. The heart wants what the heart wants.” She sat back and thought. “No one wants to admit they didn’t see something coming, or the advice they gave wasn’t helpful, or better yet a back was turned instead of help given. Guilt is a waste of time. Face it and pick up from now. Yeah. Love’s the best thing we’ve got. Think I’m ready for coffee.”

 

She grabbed a slice of cold pizza from the table and went into the kitchen.