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The doily


doily

One of my mother’s doilies
rests now by my bed
awaiting its goodnight caress.
It is, in truth, a tacky little thing
of garish colors
knit square into a rainbow-like affair.
It is the sort of thing
I would have teased her on
had I seen it before she died.
She loved that, you know,
laughing out loud in my face.

A doily is a small ornamental mat or table napkin usually handmade of lace or linen. My mother was an insomniac and so had a penchant for making these during the many long nights she was up and awake.

Make no bones about it, it is a tacky little thing and I really would have teased her unmercifully over it if I had seen it before she died. And now…well, obviously now, it is one of my many small treasures. We collect them—small treasures—don’t we, as we grow older?

I hope something of my mother’s wonderful, vibrant and strong personality rings through this poem, although truth be it known, no words of mine could ever really capture her amazing vitality or strength of will.

It has been many long years since my mother’s passing in 1988, but still, I miss her, very, very much.

Thank you for reading The doily. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed it and I humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain. As always, I look forward to your comments.

john

© 2013 by John Etheridge; all rights reserved. This poem and accompanying notes are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License. This applies to all original work found on this site, unless noted otherwise. The attribution claimed under the license is: © 2013 by John Etheridge, https://bookofpain.wordpress.com.

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Writing Haiku With a Friend

Haiku are easy
But sometimes they don’t make sense;
Refrigerator!

This came from a very funny article on bathroom graffiti that I saw on Buzzfeed. I liked it so much I posted it on Facebook  It garnered many likes and a few shares, but then, from Phil Wilke, one my best friends and a truly wonderful and sweet guy (with a wicked sense of humor) came this reply:

Writing a haiku
an exercise in restraint
The walrus was Paul

Well, of course, then the challenge was on and I responded with:

The question remains
Did she break up the Beatles?
Look, a butterfly!

To which Phil’s response was:

Why couldn’t Yoko
have met Baader-Meinhof Gang
and broken them up?

Which, to be honest, could not be beaten as a haiku. But I had to try…

Maybe she met them!
Happiness is a Warm Gun
Some guy she knew sang…

And after which he posted a picture of himself in a kilt with a scantily clad, beautiful young lady at some festival or another and the topic veered off in a dozen other directions, as it should.

But in the end, I was left thinking: to friends! May God bless them!

Thank you for reading Writing Haiku With a Friend. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed it and I humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain. As always, I look forward to your comments.

john

© 2013 by John Etheridge; all rights reserved. This poem and accompanying notes are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License. This applies to all original work found on this site, unless noted otherwise. The attribution claimed under the license is: © 2013 by John Etheridge, https://bookofpain.wordpress.com.

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True lessons

Dad! said Aaron (he’s five),
I bet I can beat you to the grocery store door!
What’s the use? I laughed, preparing,
knowing exactly what was written in the moment.
You always—WIN!

And on that ‘win,’ I dashed and he dashed
and in all that dashing together
the simple difference in our heights
added up to a tragic occurrence:
his fist smashed me in my crotch.

Calming him down afterward was the second hardest part,
It’s OK, hon, it was only an accident…
I’ll be able to breathe in a minute.

Which just goes to show you that,
1) you don’t always know what is written in the moment,
and that, 2) you’d do it all over again.
(But not so hard, and please God, not so soon.)

Sad to say, but this is a true story which played out exactly as I have described it. I hesitated posting it as I very rarely try to be funny in poetry.

Thank you for reading True lessons. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed it and I humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain. As always, I look forward to your comments.

john

© 2013 by John Etheridge; all rights reserved. This poem and accompanying notes are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License. This applies to all original work found on this site, unless noted otherwise. The attribution claimed under the license is: © 2013 by John Etheridge, https://bookofpain.wordpress.com.

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