Writing on walls
always warrant some questions.
Why deface walls at all?
Have you no canvas as tall?
For whom exactly is your message intended?
Ask me why I feel offended?
Did this place not inspire ease?
Who do you think will be pleased?
I for one am sad that nothing
is left to the imagination.
Were you looking for inspiration?
This was such a zen place.
Now the Coqui feels disgraced.
No one can concentrate on its sweet song at night.
The distraction is too great.
What does it say anyway?
Nothing that means something to me?
So you see
the writing was not on the wall afterall.
*I love art. I respect all art forms. I support freedom of expression. What I hate is when such serene and beautiful natural spaces are obstructed or defaced.
* The Coqui is a small cricket indigenous to the Island of Puerto Rico.
I am at the lottery office cashing in on my ticket; I am a billionaire. It must be a practical joke but the check looks real and best of all I have no taxes to pay. I have told no one yet. I want to surprise people like the guy on that old 60’s show: The Millionaire.The first thing I will do is hire a guy that looks just like him (Marvin Miller). I will open accounts for each of them in various banks close to where they live. Hiring a top-notch accountant would be at the top of the list of things to do. I would need someone to skillfully handle my accounts.
The first surprise visit will be to my children’s homes. They will be told that an anonymous benefactor is giving them a million dollars each. The carrier will wear a hidden camera so I can see their reaction. Two or three weeks later I will give them a call and let them know I am indeed the benefactor. I guess they will call me first to give me the news and perhaps to offer me some of their new-found wealth. If I do not hear from them I will be heartbroken. I know exactly what they will do with the money. They have always been practical and careful with their money but I want them to go a little crazy. The grandchildren I want to spoil like never before.
My husband, sister, brother, nieces and nephews, and my parents in-laws who I love like my own parents would get their surprise immediately afterward. They’d receive a personal invitation to
meet me at their favorite store. Opened exclusively for each of them they would have the opportunity to take part in a private shopping spree.
Then I will have the carrier go back to my former workplace to distribute checks among the employees. I always told them that if I ever hit the lotto I would send a few helicopters out to hover over the building and have a police escort announce over a loud-speaker the names of the people who would need to come out and board the copter. They would be taken to a Caribbean island and given their checks. They would probably know it came from me. I promised them so many times I would share my winnings.
Then of course, I would give money to my favorite charities and create a foundation to help children and education. There is no doubt I would buy that Mercedes I have always wanted. I would commission my son to build me the house of my dreams. Like the commercial says, “It only takes a dollar and a dream.” The best for me would be to see the faces of the people who would be millionaires instantly without having to buy a ticket.
This is a response to a Daily Prompt:
Coqui! (Photo credit: wormwould)
The Coqui is a tiny cricket frog common to the beautiful island of Puerto Rico. Its call is unique and clear, My cousin’s nickname is Coqui and when she would go out at night we could hear the Coqui calling out her name. My beloved grandmother would respond in Spanish with this short rhyme when the cricket frog called out my cousin’s name. It means: No, Coqui is not here.
“No, Coqui no esta aqui.”
I was listening to a Coqui this evening and the clarity with which it sang reminded of my grandmother’s refrain. Thus Haiku # 52 is born.
secret calls at night
all of nature listen to the
By Melba Christie
Sandy left mass devastation and heart-break for many in the Northeastern United States, and the Caribbean. I pray for the victims and relatives of the people who lost their lives. I feel blessed to have merely lost power, some perishables from our freezer, Internet and phone service. I was unable to submit to this blog for a few days. I am grateful for my followers who continue to support Poemattic. So I will post a few poems at a time as I did continue to write poems in my journals. Time without electric power to watch television or listen to the radio gives one time to reflect on the mysteries of life. One example is that the hurricane that thrust 90 per hour gusts of wind on the old oak tree out in our backyard ended up with just a few broken limbs, while it killed so many others a few hundred miles away. I am so grateful we were spared from such grief, but I feel so bad for so many others that continue to face uncertainty and so much turmoil.
We will continue to hear the stories about this monstrous storm for decades to come as the New Jersey shore, Staten Island and other places in New York City begin to rebuild the landmarks and terrain that are now unrecognizable to us who have visited these places. We need to learn from this most recent storm. We suffered through Katrina and Irene and are still plagued from those storms in different ways. Engineers, architects, urban planners and scientists will need to put their heads together to figure out how to build more intelligently so that future storms do not create such destruction.
Some positives are surfacing from all of this. People are helping each other and as human beings we are learning that we really do need each other. Politicians came together as well to make sure people came first. We are a resilient bunch so we will see that this too shall pass. But let us not forget the lessons we have learned.
I want to share my conversation with the tree in my backyard that suffered a broken limb. I felt its pain because I am a part of it and it is a part of me.
Here is what I said.
Hi there. I have never given you a name. So I have decided I will give you one today. You might think I am a little nuts but who cares. I will name you Fuerte. From the first day I saw you I wondered about the people who have passed by you in awe as you grew so tall and almost majestic. I thought about all the birds that have nested on your branches. I wondered about how many squirrels have run, jumped and become acrobats on your limbs. I tried to calculate the hundreds of thousands of leaves that have fallen off your branches over the years. Today I want to thank you for being so strong. You shook but stood your ground like a brave warrior. So many of your fellow trees gave up and fell on top of poles, cars, houses and some fatally injured people. But you did not falter. I was afraid you might not be able to take the strong gusts this time around. One of your huge limbs thumped on the ground and scared the heck out of me. We are so lucky no one got hurt. So I thank you. I want you to know I respect nature and I respect you.
This is what the tree responded:
I have listened to many of your fellow human beings talk about their respect for the things of nature and the universe. What we need is harmony. Thanks for the name. But it is not about a name; it is about a way of thinking.
(Of course, this conversation took place in a dream after hours of my tossing and turning during that restless stormy night with Sandy. All I know is that Fuerte hovers and stands stoically in my backyard and I just hope that it continues to be as strong. )
“A poet‘s work is to point at frauds”
and to to take “a late walk”
to observe the sunset.
A poet’s work is
“A thing of beauty”
but can be “A song of despair”
when “A dog has died.”
A poet’s work can be
“A hand mirror”
so you can see the truth
face to face.
A Poet’s work is “Acceptance”
that sometimes there is not much that a poet
can do about abolishing hate and breeding peace.
A poet’s work
is a “Brave and Startling truth”
and or a “Lesson in Vengeance”
or an “Enigma”
or a simple “letter to an aunt”
to ease her pain.
A Poet’s work
eloquently describes a “summer’s dream”
or a “conversation”
about “Faith being a fine invention”
But for me a Poet’s work is to
“Carpe Diem” and speak from the heart
every minute of the day.
Do you know all the poets whose works were cited in my poem? I will post all names in my next post.