Morning offering of beer bottles gather on the last step laid over, laid up, slept past last callMy coffee in too small a cup sits with me at a table that limpsConstruction worker walks from sandwich shop to truck, early enough for the dirty professions, still too early for the clean, those bleached-sterile by fluorescent preserved in recycled airTrash inContinueContinue reading “Almost 8”
Author Archives: Shannon Laws
Seagulls- 1, Crows- 0
Bellingham is an interesting place to live. If you do not agree, I recommend an early walk around the neighborhood. Remnants of our lively nightlife are evident in the early hours. Left overs like a cigarette butt nest of empty beer bottles near the last step of an apartment building, and used rubbers, hint toContinueContinue reading “Seagulls- 1, Crows- 0”
Poetry: Refugio’s Hair
One of my favorite poems… Refugio’s Hair In the old days of our family, My grandmother was a young woman Whose hair was as long as the river. She lived with her sisters on the ranch La Calera– The Land of the Lime– And her days were happy. But her uncle Carols lived there too,ContinueContinue reading “Poetry: Refugio’s Hair”
Cell Hell
Is it just me or has the whole freakin’ world been duped? First let’s define the word duped. Duped: A person who functions as the tool of another person or power.Oh well, in that case the answer is a big YES!Which one was your first?Throughout the 1900’s, appliances in the home, particularly the television, radioContinueContinue reading “Cell Hell”
Poetry: Leaf Tattoo
LEAF TATTOOCan you feel itIn my cityThe changing airas wind folds in fall’s cool weather.Orange leaves land onthe sidewalks of Holly Street.No worms to dance them back to soil.Cement laden, laid upon the roadside in random patternsleave a tattoo, imprint to the stone.Five pointed star, a Tree Hand pressed by feet and rainbleed the orange ink for allContinueContinue reading “Poetry: Leaf Tattoo”
Poetry: Whispers
My ears itched the other dayvoices caught up with metraveling the speed of windwords skip across time like stonessidarmed into ripplesa beach full of onlookersfeet crunch atop the pebblescasting a stoneplanting a seedgrowing a flowerpulling a weedkarma may be as gardenstended by the faithfulproducing understandingcatching up to us all gifts in hand***
Poetry: Honey Jar
HONEY JARHe still calls me honeythat jar is long emptyfew amber crystals cling to the insideHow long ’till the pet names stop’till a new sweetener is foundPerhaps a Sweet n’ Low will find himMaybe an Equal will catch his eyeHe’ll bless the day High Fructose Corn Syruptap dances into his heart!Honey he may call itbut honey it will never behis appetite forContinueContinue reading “Poetry: Honey Jar”
Ladybugs Day Out
For the past two months or so I have been doing what I can to support a friend whose husband is very ill. I’m not too good in these situations, but I am pretty skilled at just sitting there and providing company. Went to visit them both at the hospital the other week. It wasContinueContinue reading “Ladybugs Day Out”
Poetry: Moon Dial
MOON DIAL The moon speaks to me through my window slit, curtain and blinds open just enough for fresh air to relieve me in the night The moon speaks to me announcing it is 3 o’clock it chatters away for 20 minutes about plans, loves, problems, recipes Please beContinueContinue reading “Poetry: Moon Dial”
Shut Ins
There is a growing concern on my mind about the condition and mentality of our elderly that I must address: Shut-ins. Sparked by a recent incident, the following rant is an attempt by me to process the barbarian social cycle Americans have created. A cycle that involves the elements of the high cost of healthContinueContinue reading “Shut Ins”
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