The cat sits quietly

In our future house

the laundry lays about the living room

socks in perpetual anguish for never finding their partner

the pots pile in the cupboard

haphazardly organized after tiny hands have pulled out the metallic domes to explore the sound

the chairs hum against the kitchen floor

hastily shoved in to catch the bus

a brisk reminder is shouted to remember the lunch on the counter

In our future house

the cat sits quietly in her unreachable corner

stretching her toes out in the sun that beams through the bamboo blinds

the dog lays anxiously at our sliding door

waiting for the opportunity to run out, bounding through the yard that needs to be mowed

the children play languidly in the blessed haze of summer nights

skipping through the twinkling paths of the fireflies they catch in their jars

In our future house

The prayers rise frequently to heaven

in the calm, meditation we take over the first cup of coffee

in the worried midnight whispers to heal a fever that won’t break

as a requiem to the third goldfish this year, a blessing to accompany the mournful flush

In our future house

The floors creak as we tiptoe past the children’s rooms

Stifling giggles as your hand finds the skin on the small of my back

Your lips taste the curve of my collar bone as the door closes with a gentle click

In our future house,

My love,

Is a home

We wake among the shade of the oak trees and the cooing of the mourning dove  

On The Fence

I’m on the fence

about Mike Pence

But I’d love to dump

President Trump

A Feeble Attempt

She lifted her head. 

She felt ashamed. 

Her life is a mess, 

Her brain was scattered papers

It was a feeble attempt 

To do it all 

The house, the kids, the wrecking ball 

came when she still searched for more 

She started to ignore the ones she adored 

The realization came eventually 

 with a bright glow and carefully, 

She focused on, what was given to her, 

Her heart felt full, she started to concur. 

Yes, indeed, this is the life, she would lead 

The kids, the house, she began to see 

Her lover, he awaits, so patiently 

Nothing in life is a guarantee 

So thankful was she 

When she saw what she had 

Her life now a joy 

Nothing holding her back 

She was blooming. 

Like a flower

on an spring morning 

Singing to a new soundtrack 

She found her way back 

They Left the Diner

She saw the bones on his knuckles were like mountains

As he lie in the still, off-white room with the gold crucifix on the wall

The skin translucent and thin as the lunaria in the blue vase on the kitchen windowsill

He collected them with his granddaughter one languid summer day

When she still wore pigtails and bib overalls

Ankle deep in crab grass, with the cicadas buzzing in the trees

His steps were patient and forgiving,

He told her she was worth more to him than all of the silver dollars in his sock drawer.

His feet now rest under the blue Granny-squared afghan

That her mother worriedly straightens with pallid face

She preferred not to make this memory strong,

Remembering that time they left the diner

Ducking into the rain

He opened his coat to shield her from the damp,

How tall and strong you are,

She remembered thinking all those years ago

And so kind

She thought now as she said her last goodbye.

She Peered at Them All

She peered at them all, 

through the glass. 

the sun shines bright 

on sweet foreheads

Hands in the dirt, 

toes in too.

a shovel digging,

brains a thinking. 

On goes the water, 

out comes the hose. 

the cool droplets turn

expressions into giggles 

She wipes her hands

pours herself iced tea

a moment of peace

her heart swells times three.

This is a poetry blog. Here are the rules.

Femme Pen is a joint venture between a few poets. It was modeled after a website Man Power at the Megamall. Check them out here: http://manpoweratthemegamall.tumblr.com/

The following are a list of rules we follow when posting:
1) No wussies. This is Femme Pen.
2) All poems are inspired by a challenge.
3) The Challenge can be delivered at any time.
4) The Challenge is a random sentence fragment.
5) The Challenge must be used in the poem.
6) Once the Challenge has been accepted, the Challenged has 24 hours to write a poem.
7) There are no rewrites.
8) The Challenge becomes the title of the poem.
9) Authorship is anonymous.