Firehouse

Our waitress

takes us down

to tour the cellar

added after

they bought the place.

They set it up

for private parties now

at Valentine’s Day.

President Bush (she doesn’t clarify which)

celebrated his birthday here once—she says

—and in

the close space

I contemplate

the smallness

of powerful men.

Up

we walk—

up, up

the staircase

to patrons

clinking glasses

and slicing

into crab encrusted steak.

We imagine

the horses

out back, back in the day,

as lovers

now sit

in the courtyard

sipping cabernet.

Higher,

we roam

the upper level in quiet,

look out onto the street,

the mist

of history

hanging

in the air.

Your voice

a half-whisper of awe,

it must

have been so cool

working out

of a station like this.

We descend

to the door,

to the sidewalk

and rain

greets us, pattering about

like a welcome home.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

Enjoyed our trip to the Chicago area, where my husband was born, to visit family and to celebrate our anniversary and birthdays.

 

Photo © 2014 Jennifer Wagner

 Chicago Firehouse Restaurant  

(click link if you want to know more about this historic building)

Photo © 2014 Jennifer Wagner

 

Slice (Cinquain)

Malnati’s 
photo © 2014 Jennifer Wagner

deep dish

vine ripened plum tomatoes

fresh mozzarella and flaky, buttery crust

fork, knife…Malnati’s is a Chicago-style smile in

a slice

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

Poème, 16

The Ad Says:  Spirited. Adventurous. Intuitive.

Don’t change, you say,

inspired by the song of love triumphant

and the scent I wore when you first loved me.

You say you like it,
whatever it is,

when I curse myself

for being too much of this

or not enough of that.

And I guess that does about sum it up.

Even when I don’t,

you love me

as I am.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

In a few days my husband and I will celebrate our 16^th Anniversary.  Poème is the fragrance I wore back when we first met and is also the title of a work by Amédée-Ernest Chausson which was originally subtitled The Song of Love Triumphant .

Poetry Jam:  Trash or Treasure

Rant/Dance/Bleed/Fly…at the Poets Pub

Like a sweaty mosh pit?

Well no,

that’s not it,

exactly.

Like a rave?

With neon rainbows and ecstasy?

Nope, not that either.

Something a lot more classy—

or less,

depending on what’s on their minds.

Oh I get it,

like classic

rock ‘n’ roll.

Hmm…that’s good, too—

but no, it’s more than that,

more like

a symphony

of nations, tribes and tongues—

listening

to each other,

tasting

what they have to offer,

learning

there are many ways to rant/dance/bleed/fly.

Yes, yes

that’s more like it.

But

you can still

bring your Bic lighter

and bang your head

in the glow

if you want to.

Because whatever your preference,

they’re playing your song.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

Bring your crumpled paper, your scribbled on napkins, your laptops, your tablets for the dVerse Poets Pub 3^rd Anniversary Celebration!  Brian and Claudia and the whole staff open the doors and invite any poet, anywhere to share their voice and to listen in.  I’m sure I join others in saying that I owe them a debt of gratitude for all the work and love they put into keeping the Pub going.  And to all the poets who gather there, you have enriched, enlightened, inspired—thank you for sharing your words.  Meet you there!

Down Deep

a summer rain

a giggle in your sleep

crying, the good kind

the smell of coffee

the first sip

breaking the last of anything

in two

giving away the bigger piece

the end of a good book

the beginning of it

you,

me,

you,

me

tumble,

taste,

tumble,

taste

mango

tangerine

soil

sand

roots

color

color

color

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

17 Trillion Is Just a Number

Burst the lock,

release the chain,

we ask for different

but get the same—

save (sell) our souls

in forward exchange.

Our customary currency:

owe the Reserve, owe the Chinese,

bail out you, bail out me,

come one, come all, handouts are “free”!

 

We’ll see who’ll hold the master key

come the year 20-16

and be the next

to blame the wreck

on the last jalopy

presidency.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

For Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.  Michael (Grapeling) has provided a list of 10 words for us in which to craft a poem.  I used 5 of the 10 he offered.

Also for Poets United Midweek Motif:  The Key

and the Poetry Pantry

US Debt Clock:  17 Trillion and Counting

To a Poet, For a Poem

I listen to the darkness,

the beautiful kind

when the lights are off,

and I close my eyes

and see the last light

burned into my mind.

I sit, in my poetry nook,

in the corner of the room,

in a chair, arms leaning, at rest,

my feet propped.

I listen, listen,

ceiling fan low,

box fan high, pointed toward me

to carry the sound

of the silver crackle

of the millionth star

no less wonderful

than the first.

And it might be yours, the only light

in this dark room tonight.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

For all you beautiful, amazing poets out there.  Thank you.

Poetry Pantry

ordinary summer nights

photo © 2014 jennifer wagner

we’ve been

thirsting for this all year—

summer,

when we cut the edges off

with soft flecks

of twilight

that stream

the warm air,

bespeckled with

sprinkler water

            d

     r

o

     p

p

     i

n

     g

to the carefree kiss

of bare toes

that splash and dash

with smiles—

for s’mores,

for watermelon,

for staying up late

but mostly

for each other,

to share

the extra-

ordinary

sparkle with

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

For Poetry Jam:  Thirst

tilt the semi-axis (in cinquain)

Glasshouse at Chihuly Garden and Glass – Seattle, WA

Photo © 2014 Jennifer Wagner

ice cold

lemonade—the

kind to make you pucker

the scent of fresh-mown grass, ahhh it’s

summer

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

Just for fun for Poets U (Midweek Motif:  The Longest/Shortest Day, Solstice and Poetry Pantry).  Happy Summer!

Scrapbooks and Fireworks

Summer’s kisses past

are in my dresser—

caresses pressed

between pages

like petals.

A thousand moonlights

are in my closet,

and wished upon stars

s          p          r          i           n         k          l           e

s          p          a          r          k          l           e          s

in a box on the shelf.

But summer nights,

and moonlights,

and stars—

like night lilies,

like fireworks,

are best

in their living,

bursting

moment

like you,

here & now, owning

me

with more than just a memory.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner