Watching television
not the best idea just now.
Luckily I often find it looking at me
as I work on editing
which captures most of my attention.

One of my favorite shows is airing.
But is this the right word
to translate my thoughts
to comprehensible language?
Vincent D’Onofrio’s character is making
insightful assessments from the start.
I’m languishing for ideas on
where best to cut each line for
emphasis and to maintain cohesion.

The suspect is nervous;
surely he can’t be caught
this early into the show.
Now, what to punctuate with
for maximum clarity?

Cut to the alley scene;
put this word on the next line.
He’s caught and he knows it not
thanks to the genius trap
set by Vincent and Kathryn
in perfect conjunction
with the hubris of the villain.

Thankfully a commercial!
I can put the TV on mute.
Oh, now that’s what the poem
is supposed to sound like!
D’Onofrio and Erbe
vanquish the bad guy and save the day.
I think it sings now
so I’ll let it play.

©2009 Shari Lynne Smothers

Prompt 071 from Poetic Asides: Write a juxtaposition poem.

This was a very interesting prompt. Like any prompt, there are many ways to interpret the path to completion. I hope mine is in keeping with the spirit of the prompt’s intention, but I can’t be sure.

With great appreciation for the gift from nature that we so briefly call snow. If I could give it a name to capture the wonder and danger it is, and the wonder it makes room for, I think the new name would have to be long and lithe and brilliantly lettered.

Ever Enough?

Will the day come on
no longer I wish to see
wond’rous beauty snow?

Keepsake

Lovely photographs
capture unexpected gifts
created in snow.

While it Lasts

Who’s to say when I’ll
get another chance to be
out in my dream live?

©2009 Shari Lynne Smothers

Prompt 070 from Poetic Asides: Make a title with _Day and write the poem.

We clamored over one another
in hopes of seeing the face of him
more incredible than any other man
through the hallowed halls
of our all girls high school.

The things I saw gave me pause
at the ways of “good Catholic” rearing.
Skirts’ hems climbed the thighs
of nubile, hormone-gorged adolescent girls.
Suggestions at him, in gestures and unheard whispers
elicited blushes and frustrated discombobulation.

Even daily was not so bad
as the true frequency of it all.
I only witnessed moments in a day.
But legend had it that the assailants acted
continually daily almost in relay
and regardless of nuns’ admonitions.

So went the wind, as if in a season.
I looked up one day and the beauty
was no longer among us.
His good-bye to us came in a polite letter
which I dismissed
and knew his girls were grateful for,
as it said nothing of the true pressures or full names
that dispatched this almost-priest so hastily.

©2009 Shari Lynne Smothers

This is my climbing poem for prompt 069 at Poetic Asides. I’m not sure what made me recall this episode. It’s actually the first time I saw that sexual pressure can affect a person. And I’m still amazed at the story, and still feel an odd empathy for the girls and the young brother; so it still matters—even though my high school days happened a century ago.