Psychedelic. #RDP

Photo via Free Photo Library.

Poem (C) Pamela Schloesser Canepa, 2019

The sky covers me

With a psychedelic blanket

To cover my eyes

And warm me.

To soften the edges

Of today’s worries.

Colorful and soft,

Just like the old blanket

Grandma once made.

Grandma, with the long hair

And constant incense smell,

The tickles and hugs,

The outdoor lunches,

Afternoons with goats and dogs.

Grandma, an explosion of love

And acceptance,

A psychedelic canvas, blanket, shirt, or sky. Colors that smile.

Love.

*Visit http://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com for more entries, and follow to receive the daily prompt.

Break the Endless Loop. #amwriting #fridayfictioneers

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

“Break the Endless Loop.” (c) 2019, Pamela Schloesser Canepa

 

When you’re under forty, you buy.

But after buying more, you need more

And this sickly need has you caught.

 

They market what you don’t need

You’re not hungry but still feed;

Health suffers from this excess.

 

Love won’t come in a dish.

Physical things can’t fill your wish.

It’s time to reject the fraud.

 

Now a herd of doctors, doing their best

Prescriptions, check-ups, many tests.

(It could have been avoided, just confess).

 

Unless you can make a drastic change.

Be a new person, change your ways.

Love people, not habits, or tangible things.

Yes, such an unrealistic dream….

 

***A 100 word poem that tells a frightening story.  This response is based on the photo prompt given weekly for Friday Fictioneers’ challenge at https://rochellewisoff.com/

 

 

 

We’re all Time Travelers. (A Passage) #RDP

   circa 1991.

(c) 2019, Pamela Schloesser Canepa

We hurtled to here

through space and time,

to a future that back then,

we couldn’t see.

 

Who knew we’d watch TV on our phones,

now we’re never really alone,

with friends halfway across the earth,

but what are they really worth?

 

I go back and remember,

picking up a phone

playing songs on a record

when I felt too alone.

Calling friends to meet up,

getting ready to go out,

instead of dressing up

for a photo for my phone.

 

Today is an introvert’s dream.

Post your status every day.

Some will respond, like or laugh,

others  ignore or stay away…

and no one need really care.

 

Who knew it would all be so simple one day?

You can fight with friends by text

find online who will be next;

In a blink, life goes on.

 

Who knew it would all be so simple one day?

I used to write poems by the sea when my heart sank, now,

we post heartbreaks and rants on our wall.

I’d gladly take a passage  back to those days.

 

 

 

Rage Against Limits of Age. #poetry

Rage Against Limits of Age, (c) 2019 by Pamela Schloesser Canepa

 

Lines at my eyes don’t bother me,

‘cuz I already fell from the tree.

I’ll raise a glass and tell you my age,

Since that makes lying men run away.

 

Some say to wear more makeup,

Some say you should wear less.

Which will make me look younger?

I supposed it’s anyone’s guess.

 

When out, I’ll wear hoop earrings and my Blondie tee

With those special fit jeans that cost a pretty penny.

I’m ‘wowing’ the town in my not-cougar ensemble,

But I’ve gotta wear Nikes, so I don’t take a tumble.

 

Though I no longer do Ben-Gay-Zumba these days,

I still do the plank pose, modifed, okay?

And some may think I count for less,

Rage against the whimps who can’t handle this mess

Who raise a brow at what I wear,

question the true color of my hair

 

Rage against high-priced age creams

Products promising to fulfill our dreams….

Rage against those who try to limit me with age

I decide how much to do before turning the page.

Do  not sit quietly and age.

Do all you still can, and hysterically.  Girl, rage!

 

Sky meets ground. #poetry

Photo via Pixabay

“Sky Meets Ground, ” (c) 2019 by Pamela Schloesser Canepa

I am here

With my fingers in the dirt

That feels so cool and smells like earth.

I open my mouth and taste the dew like manna from heaven.

No one shows up ’til later, baking on a new tan,

But I’d rather hang out with my one and only friend.

The dew descended from the clouds for a party, until the sun says it’s his turn,

Uses its power to burn the moisture up,

Chases it back to the sky.

Now it’s just myself and I,

No one understands.

I will leave before the hour is at hand with all those strangers who feel cool because they look like each other

Because they act like each other, and they don’t need to know I was here.

Still, I return for what I can’t see

Another weirdo in the haze of a.m., feeling outside of them, just like me.

Thank you for reading! View other responses to today’s word prompt here: Ragtag Daily Prompt

In the Nineties. #poetry

Photo by Francesco Ungaro on Pexels.com

(c) Pamela Schloesser, 2019

It was the nineties,

I was young, and you were bold,

I just wanted to be told

How beautiful I was.

My brother skated, my mother worried,

And I tried not to seem so smart.

 

It was the nineties;

I just wanted to be cool

and I wanted to be pretty.

I married someone

who was the life of the party.

We were all about

Chinese takeout

and a thirteen inch t.v.

Californians were cooler than us

Moulder and Scully were

more interesting than us.

We’d finish our X-files and takeout

and sit on the back porch

watching for our own aliens.

 

I’d retreat to some Stephen King

you’d escape somewhere partying

with people cooler than I.

You’d always return,

whether I liked it or not;

I was home base.

Whether you walked straight or not

if you howled at the moon or not,

whether you were seeing two or three,

I was still home base.

 

Starting a family didn’t help.

Threatening to leave didn’t help.

It was the nineties and we were

just who we were.

But I didn’t like you interpreting

my place anymore.

 

It was nineteen ninety eight

and time to get things straight.

Growing up is important.

We do what we must do,

and it was time to acknowledge

that I couldn’t grow with you.

 

It was the late nineties

and I’d dashed your world,

split up our family, taken your son.

I was many horrible things

all rolled up into one.

But I walked on that broken glass

with a toddler in my hands

to freedom on the other side.

 

It was the nineties,

and then it no longer was.

A new millenium,

The crossing of a threshold.

I was thirty, and wise

but not at all old.

I look back, glad Iit’s in the past.

But still, I learn when I look back.

**The nineties were an important part of me, and such a very interesting decade on their own.  This timeframe has shown up in my writing, particularly in the book, Detours in Time.  You can find out about this book and series at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0711ZW6XF  Thank you for stopping by, and I do hope you will return to my blog.  I offer a little bit of everything here.  Cheers!

 

Spring Break Haiku. #poetry

Time is Still Ticking, but I Didn’t Notice.

Haiku by Pamela Schloesser Canepa. (c) 2019.

Unrestrained by time,

I decide to free the leash.

Freedom to explore.