Poem prompt: "Today’s daily resource is the online exhibitions page of the International Folk Art Museum. I have a particular predilection for folk art, in which the strange and boisterous so often finds itself going hand-in-hand with practical objects of daily use. But the museum also showcases work of other sorts, like 100 Aspects of the Moon,…
Poem prompt: "Today’s daily resource is the online art collection of South Korea’s National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art. My own art history education is woefully catch-as-catch can, and the little I know of modern art is very much focused on American and European artists. So it was a treat to browse through a collection…
Playing catch-up today. I almost forgot what month it was! So often with the daily grind, I get into a routine rut. Such is adult life. Recent distractions I've found to help me survive reality: binging House MD on Hulu, learning how to play Magic: The Gathering (to appease my husband, so we can spend…
Most people can't see they're praying to Apollo by another name. Gee, sus: quite suspicious indeed, and the sun answers every time with articulate manipulation, spewing lies with lyres. When the nameless multitude of unwilling women turns the other cheek to leave him behind, he seizes their hair as twigs to break and wedge deep…
I cry to create sheen across our sun-dried love; thumbs collect down dew to rub Gallimimus bone broth on his fossilized legs. Photo by Marcus Lange on Pexels.com
By day, they all say What nice skin! not a Beauty, just fair, smooth Snow White night wolf; moon-slivers glint off algal blooms coating coarse hairs. Photo by patrice schoefolt on Pexels.com
I surrender, yes, tree sap hair to his black beard — my same slow loris venomous mammal, elbows at the ready: lick and spit. Photo by SONIC on Pexels.com Original Photo Prompt from https://www.thedodo.com/slow-loris-video-1604980747.html
Mama Bear asks how we can know childfree is the way to be for ourselves without experiencing what would be our children, but it's not bleu cheese, Mrs. Bear. I can't gag and tell the waiter to take it back. The waiter would just laugh and say "you made your choice, now choke and keep…
You say my eggs are fried? That's exactly how my husband likes them on the kitchen counter before work: slippery, licked, dead and gone. Photo by Megha Mangal on Pexels.com
If me branding me keeps you from branding me ("damage" may flee your lips but never hands; you'll never come close), I'd say my body art has served the world: my fulfilled aesthetic dream facing down an army of red flags for other women to heed. Photo by Athena on Pexels.com
National Poetry Writing Month
Keeping the world immersed in stanza.
About fantastical places and other stuff
"The silence of the night awakens my soul"
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Saralyn Caine Poetry 