Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Bumblebee




Yes, it's a real place, and we stayed near it for a night. Well, almost. We stayed until shots rang out way too close and we packed it up, and packed it in the RV, deciding it may be safer to put some miles between us and some teens or good ol' boys shooting at 'coons and beer cans in the near dark. But, I'm getting ahead of myself. This is about hair. “Tommy's mohawk” in a Ziploc bag hung from the ceiling of the cluttered bar/restaurant, which also served as an office in which to reserve your camping space. It hung there with a whole mix of curios we gaped at and yet, were afraid to see. While, I'll call him “McGruff,” due to the gruff manner in which he lent his aid, instructed us on how to locate our spot near the river. And then I saw the sign just above his bald head, which read: “Show off your rod...fish naked!” And I lost it. I got a case of the 8th grade giggles and could not speak intelligibly. So I let my husband do the talking, while the kids kept asking, “What? Mom, what? What's so funny?” Obviously they had not seen it, and I wasn't about to point it out. I think it was the long drive and the sheer absurdity of the place, but let's just say, at this stage of my life it's good I maintained bladder control (hey, I've had four kids, okay? I was impressed it held). So, long story short, we set up camp, went for a dip, had dinner, roasted marshmallows, it began to rain. . . and then, Boom, Bang, Boom, Bang, Boom. And my husband and I looked at each other, and he said, “We're outta here.” So the moral of this story is:

you don't have to
fish naked
to have a hair-raising time


© 2015 Jennifer Wagner

A haibun for Anthony's challenge at dVerse: Excuse, Me, There's a Hair in My Poem!

True story.

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Our Birds


Townsend's Warbler,
the Pileated Woodpecker,
Varied Thrush.

Red-breasted Nuthatches,
Black-capped Chickadees,
Chestnut-backed, too.

Pine Siskins,
a Red-winged Blackbird,
the Steller's Jays.

Dark-eyed Juncos,
Broad-tailed Hummingbirds,
Band-tailed Pigeons--yes, it's true!

Northwestern Crows,
crow, crow, crow--
the No-doubt Seahawks
are going to go
go, go!




© 2015 Jennifer Wagner




image © 2015 Jennifer Wagner


"No doubt" Seahawks and the 12's return to the Superbowl as defending champs (and the 12th team to do it).

For my boys. A list poem with all the birds we have identified in our yard.

Sunday, January 18, 2015

after the long hours


write me a song
with your eyes
like you do

hang up your helmet,
your axe,

come
home
to
me


© 2015 Jennifer Wagner


Image © 2015 Jennifer Wagner


Two tenWord poems. Over at dVerse this week we were offered to play with the tenWord form. These two can be read together as one little love poem.


For Ian,
for Poets U,
and for all the spouses of firefighters...may the hours quicken!

Friday, January 16, 2015

Resurgences (2 tenWords)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


winter garden
tiny grave beds
(tu)lips are whispering,
come, spring”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



tracing her scars
like braille, mouthing,

I
lived
to
tell



© 2015 Jennifer Wagner

For dVerse, the tenWord, a form created by Brian Miller.

Friday, January 9, 2015

mercy, please

image © 2015 jennifer wagner


a red blossom, bloodied burqa,
             voice
                        buried

stoning hole shadows
awaiting execution
press my heart,
 
            crush
within me


© 2015 Jennifer Wagner


For dVerse MTB. Bjorn has invited us to do some blackout poetry. I used a book I am currently reading, Stone Crossings, by L.L. Barkat. This particular page/segment from her book brought to mind the the film The Stoning of Soraya M. If you haven't seen it, it's gut-wrenching. Honestly, I couldn't sit through all of the stoning scene.

Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Eggshells


I won't play your eggshell game.

It's a drag
and you can't hold me hostage
anymore

from who I am,
from who I am meant to be,

from happiness.

Honestly, it's rude,
and you continue to behave childishly,

demanding things
on your own selfish terms.

Meanwhile,
I am making new loves

and they don't require that I tiptoe,

they say,
give it all you got, girl,

go ahead,
crunch.


© 2015 Jennifer Wagner


For Poetry Jam: One Word. My word is “Freedom,” written about obliquely.

Saturday, January 3, 2015

Saturday Morning Cartoons (with Oreos and Milk)


A father wakes up
before everybody else

and sets the world whistling.

Except on Saturday,
when he's supposed to get to sleep in,
but you jump on his belly
and pry his eyes open
to watch cartoons with you.

He doesn't mind, though,
because you're his.


© 2015 Jennifer Wagner



For my daddy.

Dad, remember Oreos and milk for breakfast with Saturday morning cartoons? I do. Good times. :)


Friday, January 2, 2015

Animus


morgueFile

Snowflakes pressed in indigo,
spit-shined
for a coming new year.

I know you will read this.
I know you will not understand.

But, the sky is ready.

Snowflakes pressed in violet,
warming up
for a coming new year.

Haven't you gotten
your pound of flesh,
and then some?

                                                             yellow

                          violet                                                              blush-burst

indigo                                                                                                                      magenta



The sun
has arrived

but you don't see
the new year,
the melt,
the new day.

You're too blindly busy
thinking of
the next
crimson cut.

But,
the sky is ready,

trade your warfare
for wings,
come fly with me.



© 2015 Jennifer Wagner


What the new year brings to you will depend a great deal on what you bring to the new year.” - Vern McLellan

For the challenge at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads


Monday, December 22, 2014

Unsilent Night


Whores and lepers. Sheep shit and fish guts. The real gospel is gritty. The real Jesus is dirty, naked, and unashamed of his great, humiliating sacrifice for those willing to accept such an inglorious, less than glossy delivery, which was not heralded on expensive card stock, which may not have occurred on December 25th. But it was the first Noel.

star twinkling
angels singing
staffs trembling
after 400 years of silent waiting
christmastime


© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

trying my hand at tanka prose for carpe diem: christmastime

Friday, December 19, 2014

Don't be a Scut Farkus . . .


Have a Merry Christmas!

I triple-dog-dare ya.

Photo © 2014 Jennifer Wagner


Peace on earth?
Good will toward men?
Your two front teeth?
An Official Red Ryder, Carbine Action, Two-hundred Shot, Range Model Air Rifle?

Whatever it is, I hope you get it.


Photo © 2014 Jennifer Wagner


I took these photos this past summer in Hammond, Indiana where my husband's awesome Grandma and Aunt live (and where he spent many summers growing up). A Christmas Story was based on Jean Shepherd's book of short stories based on his experiences growing up in Hammond (fictionalized as “Hohman” in the film). Grandma and Grandpa were friends of the real-life “Flick,” who got his tongue stuck to the pole in Shepherd's story. Grandma says it really happened. Today is her 90th birthday.

Enjoy the Christmas holiday, all . . . and be sure to drink your Ovaltine!