Ants

Spaghetti tin was full of spaghetti eating ants. I threw the can into a garbage bin. Little black ants do not have coats, hats and mittens. They will freeze to the death tonight, I hope, because I don't want them in the house. It was very cold night. Little black ants froze to the death. Little shriveled kiwi seeds in tin can - one hundred thousand of them. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 12/11/2011

Water

Water bubbling clear water running over the reeds and rocks. Little brook hurrying to the river. Cold water in the Spring flooding meadows changing them into spongy squelchy surface creates a lake. I am looking from the forest. I know I can not cross in this time of the year. Water owns paths and once dusty roads dominates water clear powerful water. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 12/8/2011

Baby Jesus

Baby Jesus arrived
on his wings
and he said,
and he said ...
I'll give you a s...
this year.

Czech folk poem.

Translated Copyright (c) by Marie Neumann
Pottsville, 12/6/2011

New year resolutions from point of view of common Pennsylvania bear

I have to eat now for two or three anyway since I was frolicking whole last summer with another bear from Hawk Mountains. Somehow he found his way to Pottsville and we had some good times together. He is on his way back to his den in Hawk Mountains. I hope he eats well, avoids hunters and survives this winter, because he is coming in the Spring time again.
My fur is already short and sleek. Mother Nature takes good care of me. Provides me with free winter and summer clothes.
So I am eating well. There are still plenty of berries in the woods, and since I am also carnivore, I do not turn down small game.
I took plenty baths last summer, but for some reason, I can not get rid of fleas. I have to swim more next year and drown them.
I have to avoid hunters at any cost. Here they are coming again and brought barking dogs with them, so I have to sit on the tree all day again, or hide in the swamp. It is hard to take care of some one's stomach, when there are madly barking beasts following my scent.
I'll be rising new cub next Spring, so there go my resolutions about the writing. I tried to write into the sand bank last Summer with my claws a poem about white clouds, rustling trees and trouts' bodies shining in the Sun, when they are swimming up stream. Then a wave came and washed out my poem and scattered letters in the wind.
The end.

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, 12/3/2011

The head

Bring me his head,
bring it on the plate
and I shall faint.
Keep it as far
as you can
and his body will follow,
will follow,
will follow ...
... everywhere
looking for a soul
it doesn't have.

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, 11/30/2011

Where shall I find you?

Trash can full of cigarette butts, where shall I find you, my dear? You'll find me in an attic hanging laundry on the clothes line. You'll find me in the hen house collecting eggs. You'll find me in the barn on the top, or all way down. You'll not find me home, I don't like to be alone. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Translated from Czech (also copyrighted by me) Pottsville, 11/21/2011, 11/28/2011

Reunion3

She accepts and puts her snow shovel and a broom away. He offers her his arm, on their way they pass big grey mansion to the main entrance.
"What is your name?" she asks.
He answers, but she doesn't hear it and doesn't want to ask again.
"What is yours?"
"I am Margaret."
Again something stirs the old man memory.
"My wife's name was Margaret. We called her Margie."
They enter the hallway of the big house cluttered with gardening tools, pots, broken furniture, working bench, even a saw and piles of the wood.
"Nobody comes here anymore," he apologises and leads her to the kitchen. She sits at the rectangular table covered with red and white checkered plastic table cloth.
He brings two bowls of hot vegetable soup on the table. She is looking at the white bowls with a blue rim and remembers:
"We had a whole complete set of them with cups, saucers, even a turin. It was my wedding gift."
They eat quietly soup and bread. Then he brings coffee.
"Do you have a family?"
No. I don't remember."
"What about children?"
"Yes, I had three children. It was long time ago."
"I had three children!"
"Boys, girls?", she asks.
"Two boys and one girl. What about you?"
"I had the same. What are their names?"
"Danny, Scott and Angela."
"What a coincidence! My children have the same names."
He is looking at her left hand with a wedding band.
"Are you married? What is your last name?"
"My name is Donegal, Margaret Donegal."
"I am also Donegal."
A light of recognition comes into the old woman's eyes.
"Tom, is it you?"
Their hands meet on the table.
"When we got separated?" he asks.

The end.

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, 11/21/2011

Reunion2

The woman poures steaming hot coffee into a cup and offers to the old man. Then she takes off her knitted glove from her right hand and pulls out from her coat pocket another cup and gets coffee for herself. They drink their coffee standing up with small careful sips, blowing into coffee.
The man can not help do not notice small, firm hand with liver spots, white hair sticking out of her hat and sky blue eyes.
They finish coffee, the man continues to clear the snow until the dark, then he promises to come the next day, and because the temperature is dropping, they depart.
On the way home he thinks about his new acquittance.
"My wife used to have such blue eyes. I wonder what happened to her." He doesn't remember going to her funeral.
The woman has blues eyes like summer sky and he is looking forward to the second day of snow cleaning.
The very tired woman drags her shovel behind her to the side door, opens and closes the door behind her, sits heavily on the bench and takes off her gloves and galoshes. She wears wedding band on her left hand. She places the thermos on the side, takes off her heavy coat, the hat and combs her hair. Then she walks absentmindedly to the kitchen, forgets the thermos on the bench in the hallway, remembers she hasn't eaten whole, long day, but she is to tired to make a sandwich. She lies on the sofa and immediately falls into short, interrupted sleep. She wakes up during the night, her stomach rumbles, so she makes herself a cheese sandwich, washes it down with a glass of warm milk, undresses and goes to the bed. In the morning she gets up, provides usual routine tasks, puts a bowl of milk in the kitchen for a cat she doesn't have for a long time. She remembers it's time to clean the snow again. In the hallway she notices a blue thermos, takes it to the kitchen, rinses it well and places it on the counter to dry. Suddenly she remembers something happened yesterday. She gets dressed and walks outside to continue to shovel the snow. The man from yesterday is already there with his snow blower. For a while they work quietly. He progresses rapidly, noisily, leaving large path behind him. She makes a narrow path in the snow. She can not throw the snow high. She has no strength, but she also uses a broom to dust off powdery snow. Finally they meet on the sidewalk, near to her door.
"May I invite you for a cup of coffee and a bowl of chicken noodle soup?"
To be continued

Reunion

For years on my way to the work I was passing a big grey mansion with tall, spotless, sparkling clean windows and grey roof. The mansion must be built and maintained with an "old money". It means in the times, when the coal was a king in the county. The building was always quiet, I couldn't see any activities ... until one late February blizzard came, when little angels overdid it with throwing down pillows at each other, and whole county shut down and put a key from the town under the doormat. Everything was closed but pharmacy and a grocery store. The shelves usually stacked with snow shovels and salt, were bare.
In the front of the mansion on the sidewalk on the left side was an old man dressed in old home spun winter coat and the warm hat. The scarf was covering half of his face, and with the hands in gloves, was shoveling a foot deep snow.
When I was passing by I spotted a short old woman in light blue coat doing the same thing as the old man on the other end of the mansion. There were no neighbors to help them, because everybody was busy with their own abundance of snow on the sidewalks and digging the cars out.
Then the old man found in the basement an old snow blower and cleaning the snow was faster on his part of sidewalk. Late in the afternoon he noticed the old woman slow, tedious and little progress making a path in the deep snow.
"May I help you Ms.?"
"Oh certainly."
"Let me do it."
After a while watching the man and avoiding to get to close to the snow blower, she asked:
"May I bring you hot coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?"
Yes, you may."
The woman hurries with her little steps and disappears behind the house. After a short while she appears with an old dark blue thermos. The man notices the thermos.
"I remember we used to have thermos like this," he thinks.

To be continued

Requiem for John

John is coming to number 506 leaning heavily on his crutches. "They called me twenty seven pills John." John is cutting down the pills, doesn't walk on crutches anymore and his talk is beginning to make sense. He always talked from his own experience, slowly, clearly, like he was talking to small children. He repeats the same simple message again and again. Someday it might sink for somebody. "If he will open his mouth again one more time, I shall leave." Of course he talks again and I never left. He didn't hurt anybody and he never offended me. He was a good man and he took me under his wing and his talks began to make a sense even to me.
When I was walking to the party with a lonely lesbian in the tow and a cake in my hand, the lesbian asked me: "Where are you going?" "To the party." "I am coming with you." "You can't." And I slam the door into her face.
We are at the party in the fourth floor apartment with the balcony. It is smoke free apartment. At one moment all of us are standing on the balcony, smokers and nonsmokers alike, and John, who was rather round, is coming to join us. The balcony is already full and I get suddenly scared, that the balcony will not hold all of us. "John, you can not come here, or all of us will fall." John backed up and I hurriedly finished my cigarette and walked back to the apartment.
I left the party early afraid of conversations, because I am not willing to listen to anybody else then myself.
John approaching me on the porch of 506 is trying to penetrate a hard shell. Sometimes something sunk.
I am coming back from the long lasting trip and limping downstairs. It is three of us with an injured leg and John was one of us.
John who was able to give up smoking long time ago is standing with us outside on the freezing day and is trying to tell what he is doing with his life.The hard shell is cracking little bit. He is buying, selling and making little profit. He is coming to the house, when we are moving.
He is putting tasty cakes and Halloween candies on the table next to me. "John is trying to fatten you up." John is smiling little shy smile.
"I live across the street." I came to borrow movie Titanic and returned after two days. "Do something with your life. I go regularly to fire company."
John stopped coming. He went to Reading instead.
Couple days ago John was strangled by another man who trespassed Do not kill amendment.
I do not cry, but I am sorry, John. I will not meet you anymore. What the way to go.!

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, 11/22/2011

Biography

I spent first thirty three years behind iron curtain. In 1981 I followed my ex-husband to United States. English is my second language (www.betabitches.blogspot.com). I also write in Czech www.aalfons.blogspot.com. I self published (with lot of help) in the Czech Republic a book called Aber die Konzen (But those ends) which I wrote in 1976 and Veggies 2 (2015). I am a member of POW! (Pottsville Open Writers) and regularly contribute to GROW (England). Marie Neumann

Betabitches

How could I name a book Betabitches? It is named after one of the poems and also how veterinarians call female dogs. Alfa dogs and alfa bitches get everything and beta are just a part of the pack. In the case the title offends somebody I apologize. Poems were written between 2006-2010 and were copyrighted and published on the blog with the same name. Thank you to Press for willingness to publish them. Marie Neumann

Mortality

Growing together, walking together, living side by side. Our children went to school about the same time. Sharing, not sharing, luck of communications. Question is: why? Little jealousies, little victories ... Didn't want to believe ... It wasn't a game. Now, she is gone. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 11/8/2011

Paper heart

The wind is blowing scraps of a paper down the street. Lonely paper heart landed at my feet. I picked it up. I am caressing little white heart with my forefinger. I do not know to whom you belong, little heart. Maybe to the paper doll, or you suppose to be a Valentine, or a part of the Birthday wishes from one little girl to her mom on Mother's Day. I touch paper heart with my forefinger. The heart turns pink. Little paper heart you loved to much, because somebody cut you out from the paper with scissors and gave you as an expression of love. Paper heart turns red and I can feel a heartbeat in my forefinger. I have to release you now, you don't belong to me. The wind will take you, where is your place. The wind picked the heart and carried it away up the street toward the projects, where children were playing in the park. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville 2011 Pottsville, 11/1/2011

Thanksgiving

I wake up in the morning. I am listening to my deep, even breathing. Somebody told me many years ago: "When you are over fifty and wake up in the morning and you don't feel any pain, it means you are dead." I do not feel any pain. Whole body is completely relaxed. I am lying in the heated bedroom, under warm, clean blankets and my stomach doesn't rumble from hunger. I stretch and open my eyes. There is already daylight. It means I am retired. I don't have to get up at six o'clock in the morning, have a shower, get dressed, make up my face and hair, have a rush breakfast, drink hot coffee in the car, put on professional smile and hurry to the work. With my eyes open I can smile and say "Good morning", because there is someone to say "Good morning" to. This is year 2011, end of the war is near. It is time to build bridges, economy and secure borders. It is time for peace. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 2013 Pottsville, 10/30/2011

Cemeteries

Cemeteries beloved Cemeteries, eternal gardens Cemeteries, stone gardens Cemeteries - memories Cemeteries, stone angels Cemeteries, dead doves lying helplessly on the stone edge Cemeteries, expired lives Abandoned cars We are looking for spare parts to an old Volkswagen. Restored, it will run as new. Cemeteries, green gardens peeking into the windows, where two are expressing their love. Young mothers with strollers take their babies for a walk - those dear memories of passionate love. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann 10/18/2011

Childhood memories 2

Childhood memories full of dreams and wishes. One day I shall grow up and only crumbs are left. All paths disappeared into snowy mountains and howling wind outside the windows is reminding ... - of what? Of endless hours of play like there is no tomorrow. Protective brothers and sisters who where always there for comfort, to calm down each outcry, to hang a red balloon at the bed post. Childhood memories - mother's face turned up to my window in the hospital. Childhood memories swept away by living grown up life. Childhood memories, world of illusions and fairy tales. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville 2011 Pottsville, 10/23/2010

Choices 2

I can not be a lesbian, I like hairy chest. You have to grow one. I like the opposites, you like the same. Why do you like women, when you should like men? Why I see a glee, when I should see a happiness? It is not to please me, I would like to see you happy, silly, to play house, to bloom like a woman, to have your partner only to yourself, a man, or a woman. Why I don't see a happiness? I see the glee. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, Summer 1999

POW!

For Henry Thank to your wife for bringing you to our town. You are a founder of POW! and a source inspiration for some - me particular. Without you I would consume books the others write. Thanks to POW! I also contribute to my own delight. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, April 2011

Blame

Your responsibility, because you never confessed and didn't accept absolution. Mea culpa ... It wasn't your fault, little one. Magnified by what happened and what came after ... Mea culpa ... Rage storms thorough an apartment. What irony: a victim of another ... ism. All blame on my head. Will also something fit into my hat? Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, Summer 2010

Wandering shoes

Did you polish your traveling shoes? They are tap tapping in your closet. Did you shine your wandering shoes? They are making noise in your closet like little chirping birds. Did you try on your old travelling shoes? Tappity tap, tappity tap over the hills, over the rivers, over the meadows they run and I don't mind where I am going. Away from the sleepless nights, away from what it will be next and what has to come. Away, just away I shall come back one day. I know I shall be back someday. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 10/1/2010

Monster next door 2

A monster next door knows I went to the store food shopping. He watched me coming home with a half-full cart of groceries. He slams a door. I unloaded groceries, my shelves were bare. He slams the door. I took the cart outside, cooked a lunch and ate. He slams the door. The monster wants to be fed. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 9/1/2010

Cat's tail

What is the purpose of the cat's tail? I do not know. To walk and hold it high. When the cat eats to lie down behind. When the cat is lying on the table knocking down my cigarette lighter, cigarettes, scissors and eyeglasses case. I know it shows a mood. To cover a nose when it is asleep curled up in one ball. What is the purpose of the cat's tail? I don't know. You have to ask the cat. MEOW. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 9/10/2010

September 2011

Brooks and rivers are overflowing from hurricane Lee. Some roads are blocked. "You can not get there." To much of angry and powerful water. Yellow golden rods are blooming along the highway. It's warm and humid, but some nights are in low fifties. First maple tree leaf turned yellow. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 9/12/2011

Black

To Hailey Since you like black I shall draw you black horses, black cats, black cows, black labradors, black sheep and children wearing black jeans, and a little girl running home in her black shoes. I lied. I do not know how to draw. Happy Birthday! Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 9/6/2011

The ocean

Ocean green, blue glittering, changing, calming foam, whitecap, flood tide, ebb tide sparkling, surfing, coming waves Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 2010

In the stacks

The books are whispering about lost loves, murders for money and passion. They also share, so limited, and out of date, human knowledge. The stacks are silent about students' hugs and kisses, about promises of love, dates under the stars. An old librarian found one morning hanging underwear on Encyclopaedia Britannica, volume L. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 8/14/2009

Lullaby

Dear old man we have to enter your body to remove a source of your pain to make you feel well. You are going to sleep. Do you want me to sing a little lullaby to make you sleep? We already counted all your blood cells, checked your body functions, we counted your heart beats. We know your chemistry. We took your x-rays, we even were thinking about your brain. Everything should go well. Go to sleep, dear old man, so you will not feel a scalpel. When you will wake up you will feel groggy, this where a recovery begins. Doctor, you didn't sing me a lullaby. Sorry, I don't sing well. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 7/27/2010

Geezers

Geezers are sitting on the perch. No, I wanted to say on the bench. "Who are they?" asks new aide. They are geezers. They sit on the bench, enjoy sunshine, and observe traffic. They enjoy life in its fullest. Say to them "Hi" and exchange a word or two. You are young, they'll be pleased talking to you. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 7/25/2009

Lost key

I am a key to your super duper flying machine. I am hiding, so you can not find me. I am not under the carpet, not in the cupboard, I am not in your wallet. I was on your key chain, but I was lost. I am the key to your super duper flying machine. You can put ad in the newspaper: One key is lost. People will bring you hundreds and thousands all kind of keys. They will be knocking on your door. I am your key and I am lost. Your flying machine is useless - - I hope. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 7/21/2010

Integrity

I lost my integrity I was so proud off. "She has integrity," people whispered; and said aloud, too. I even heard words: "She is genuine." And I proudly walked, stiff as a board. I didn't know how to lie. An open book to my fault. Today I lie, make up stories, ask back: "Why do you ask?" and "Why do you want to know?" I am having more fun. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 7/21/2010

Pigeon

I walked down the street and than turned right. A man was trying to catch something into a box. What is it? a puppy, a kitten, squirrel, or a rat? He was successful and closed a lid on the box. Around, on the ground, were feathers. I asked: "What do you have in your box?" Inside the box was white and grey pigeon with pink beak. "He has broken wing. He was on the street heading for the road. Something would run over him." "It is a beautiful pigeon." The pigeon was looking at us, but didn't try to escape. "They are many sparrows on those trees. They are aggressive and this is what they have done to him." "What are you going to do with him?" "His wing has to heal." "There is an animal clinic tonight on Pearl Street. They are giving rabies shots. They might look at him." I do not know the end of the story, but I am sure the man did everything to save the pigeon.

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, 6/6/2011

Novy byk

Bavi se dve mlade jalovice na pastve. "Je to tu nuda dneska." "Uz jsi pocitala auta?" "Jo. Stala jsem u ohrady nejmene hodinu a za celou tu dobu projelo jedno jedine kaslave auto." "Co budeme delat?" "Ja nevim. Pas se, kouka sem tvoje mama." "Co se takhle bavit o bejcich?" "O bejcich? Vzdyt je tu jenom jeden a to je nas tata." "Pojd ho drazdit." Jalovice projdou kolem byka, ale ten si jich nevsima. Zkusi to jeste jednou, tentokrat projdou tesne kolem nosu. Stracena ocasem zavadi o krouzek v nosu. Byk zabuci. To uz je tu jedna mama a jalovice odezene. "Co vas to napada drazdit byka?" "Vsimla jsi si, jak mu visi moudi?" Jalovice se zakuckaji travou a uz slysi vyhruzne zabuceni obou krav matek. "Mamo, dostaneme noveho byka? Tenhle je nas tata a uz je nejaky stary." "Slysela jsem, ze pujdete do noveho stada, kde bude mladsi byk." "Jakou bude mit barvu?" "Je, ja bych chtela mit cernobile telatko." "Holky, nemyslete na hlouposti a zerte." "Ty, Maleno..." "Co?" Jalovice prezvykuje. "Byla jsi uz tamhle u tech kericku?" "Proc?" "Roste tam takova aromaticka trava. Kdyz ji sezeres, tak se ti mota hlava." Jalovice se pomalu presunou ke kerikum, aby nevzbudily pozornost. Zerou travu. Pak zacnou skakat a vyvadet. Pokouseji se preskakovat pres kere. "Co to tam maji?" "Snad nechytily strecka?" Matky se k jalovicim rozbehnou poklusem a odezenou jalovice od keriku. Ale to uz se jalovicim motaji nohy, podklesavaji v kolenou a nakonec padnou na travu a spi. Matky si vzdychnou a nechaji je spat. "Uz aby je odehnaly do noveho stada s novym bejkem. Jinak nedaji pokoj." "Uz ho maji?" "Farmar odjel na aukci. Chce holstynaka. Asi jednoho priveze." "Stracena by chtela cernobile telatko." "Ta si toho navymysli. Vezme, co bude a bude rada."
Jalovice probudi nocni rosa a vyti kojotu. "Mne boli hlava." "Ja mam zizen." Cele stado spi, kdyz jdou k napajedlu. Dlouze piji. Malena zvraci. "Mne je spatne." "Tak si lehni." "Mne je spatne i kdyz lezim." Nemely jsme to zrat." "Kdyz mne se po tom zdaly krasne sny." Prosim te, jake?" "O tom, ze zpivam v opere. Tobe se nic nezdalo?" "Zdalo." "Co?" "O tom, ze mam telatko. Bylo cernobile, byl to bycek a ja mu ukazala tu travu, co jsme sezraly, a rekla mu, ze ji nesmi zrat. A on poslechl. Byl to hodny bycek." A za chvili: "Uz je ti lepe?" "Trosku. Pojd spat."
Cele stado spi. Vpovzdali vyji kojoti, zatimco kovboj objizdi stado. Obema jalovicim se zda o novem byku.

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, 7/8/2011

Resilience

I hate to tell you, but Pegasus is a snob and unicorn is pulling potato wagon in Idaho. Czech and Moravian water men never made it into New World. They drowned in the salty sea. Fairies are hiding in the deep gullies stealing lunch provisions from the tourists. Veelas danced away and nobody knows where. Only witches and goblins flourish dressed in long evening gowns and tuxedos flocking stock markets. When witches come home in the night they turn off TV and tell their children stories about enchanted forests, weird women steeling little children in the hot noon and church bells ringing each evening at six. Little witch children squeal in fright and are afraid of unicorns, talking mice, walking dogs, and mechanical toys. Chicken-like spruce grouse living in boreal forest are about to be extinct. Correction: They are plentiful in Ontario. In my memories I am still going thorough beautifully colored children books of my childhood recalling water man's silly song about his cobbler job, when he is sitting on the willow tree and inside of the hollow is a pot of gold waiting to be retrieved. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 7/5/2010

Lazy day

It is one of those days I pretend I am busy What I have done so far: I put away a sweater and made a sink full of dirty dishes. I woke up at six in the morning and had big plans for the day. The flat will be spic and span clean I shall write couple of new poems, and of course I shall go for long and sweaty walk, to do the nature watch (especially squirrels and the birds). I changed a cat litter, read a newspaper, listened to one CD and now a have to do the dirty dishes. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 7/3/2010

Alcoholic's wife

I had skirts, blouses and dresses to wear for my job. I needed to look nice. Now, who has it all is an alcoholic's wife. She has a husband. daughter and a dog. She also has a car, and a heart condition, so she doesn't work. Yes, she has it all and she wants more. She will never be satisfied until she will die. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 6/25/2010

Pegasus

Another night Pegasus flew by my window. He didn't stop to say: H". Standing in mid' air fanning his wings he said: I do not like yours, how do you call them? "Poems?" They even do not rhyme. Your English is far bellow of language of Great poets, and to be honest, even your Czech stinks. I am flying to have a tea with a real poet and she is only fifteen. In what language? I asked. He didn't answer and passed by fluttering his wings like helicopter's blades heading toward a hospital's pad. Medics are in the hurry to save another patient's live. Copyright (c) Marie neumann Pottsville, 7/1/2009

My bag

Dogs and cats dragged my bag on the street to the field, from the field through the puddle and the dirty road. Hey, dogs and cats bring me my bag back. Be in a hurry! I have a bus ticket there and the bus is leaving. The dogs and cats it is not fair it is my bag and not your toy. The dogs and cats had so much fun. They brought me their toy in tatters shredded into pieces and the bus ticket is missing. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 6/20/2010

Parking lot

There is a parking lot for eight cars now, where used to be a house. I am walking over asphalt interrupted by white lines. Am I stepping on the memories of an erased house, or are they forever gone? Parking lots - toothless gums after broken teeth were pulled out off the street. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 6/19/2010

Networks

"I have a thousand friends on the Facebook." "I am on My Space every day." "Are they imaginary friends?" "I do not understand." "Are you going visit them?" You know what is going on and I don't. Maybe I don't want to know. "It is my Birthday today and I shall not sleep if nobody will wish me well." My imaginary friends I never met. You can handle only as many friends. When you have to many where you will find time for yourself and your family? Are your children on your Facebook telling you how was their day? I am on computer. Don't you see? I do not understand, or is it just another game I didn't learn, how to play? Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 6/14/2010

Water and fire

Water trickles drop by drop then turns into long mane of water queen. "I like your hair water," says fire. Stay away from me, fire. I shall douse you. So fire jumps around the river afraid to come closer because water is right. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 6/11/2010

Nancy Drew's mysteries

Checking them out by half a dozen bringing them back one by one. Summer is changing into fall season. Days are cool and crisp I am walking to the library checking out the books ... bringing them back ... Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, Fall 2008

My brother's third tall tale

My brother went to big city to school to learn how to drive a steam locomotive. One time he came home for a weekend. He gave me a friendly slap and said he drove an old locomotive and it's parking now at the terminal on the twelve track. If we would like to come and see it. We didn't. How will you get back? I have to drive first to Cheb, it is a big terminal, where I can turn around and go back.
Then he gave me another slap for meddling into something what wasn't my business. "You said to Tina I have a girl friend." "I didn't talk to Tina and you always have a girl friend, one or two." "How did she find out?" "I go to same class with Hanka from Tina's village. She asked."
Brother began to talk about happenings in the big city. "There was a big accident. The elevator's cables broke and the elevator fell down from the fifteenth floor. "Was somebody in it?" He paused for a while. "Do you remember my friend Toni?" "Is it the same one you won a bet for eating a worm?? "Yes. He came to the building just in time of crush. He went to take a closer look. There was a broken elevator and nobody around, so he crawled inside of the rubble. They found him there lying unconscious. They took him to the hospital for x-rays. He didn't have a single bone broken. Not even a scratch. He complains about headaches, dizzy spells and blurred vision. He can not work anymore, so he will be getting disability pension. His lawyer is suing an elevator company. He might get a nice package. You do not tell this to anybody, do you hear? Or I shall tear your years off!"
There was no waiting locomotive in the depot, I met Toni on the town square two weeks later. Tina was still disappointed and I tried to avoid my classmate from her village, because I didn't want to carry any more messages.
My brother and I can not keep our mouths shut and we share the same vivid imagination.

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, January 2011

Polar bears - Northern's trip

One day the vet stopped by and he said: "Since we have two bachelors here, the quarters are rather small, and we don't want two bears fighting over one female. You, Northern, will be going on the trip." "Where and why?" "There is a nice zoo in Midwest with more polar bears. You are going for a visit." "Why?" asked Standa. "For how long? Is he coming back?" "They are not too many of you, polar bears. We don't want you to get extinct. So we would like to have polar bears at least in the zoo's." "When is he coming back?" "I don't know, but he is coming back." "May I come too?" "Not this time. You will have to wait for your turn." Northern panicked: "What shall I do? How I will introduce myself? What do they expect me to do?" "I don't know," said Standa. "My mom told me to wash my feet and everything will be O.K.." Next day Northern left for Midwest zoo. For next two weeks people in the radius of two miles couldn't sleep for Standa's roar. He threw rocks into seals quarters. Luckily he didn't aim well. After two weeks he resigned, he ate, slept, watched people and seals, and did nothing. After a month or so Northern came back. "How did it go?" "I don't know." "Did you wash your feet?" "Of course I did." "So what happened?" "Nothing happened. I guess she wasn't interested." "I think her parents are going to have cubs, though." Northern wasn't as playful as before for a while. He was thinking about differences between male a female bears and females personality in general. She was smaller, not so masculine as he is. She wasn't as much fun as Standa, maybe, because she slept a lot. The bears continued to have a good time; they developed a new games like playing an airplane, walking around on their hind legs with a wide spread arms and whining. Children liked to watch them. Standa pretended to be an old gander, craning his neck and hissing like real goose. Northern imitated his she bear laying on her side and muttering: "Don't you see I am asleep? Stop sniffing me." "What is her name?" "I already do not remember. Something like Kim, Kam ... oh, Kamchi, like Kamchatka, Kamchi for short. I called her Kimchi and she didn't like it. She said she is not any cabbage." "You even didn't remember her name." "Who cares?" Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, Fall 2009

Canada geese

Canada geese live on the island all year around and they are a part of Zoo's attraction. They have a big willow tree on their island and most of the time they congregate under its long branches.
Years ago they flew from Canada south for winter with honking in their v formation. The Zoo's island was one of their stops. One fall they just didn't leave. Of course their wings are clipped now so they will have no temptation to follow wild geese. They seem to be content. Sometimes they listen to the stories of wild geese about there stops with the signs: Geese are not welcome here. Why bother then?

Polar bears - Diving2

Northern had a chance to watch Olympic games on TV. So today they tried more scientific approach. Northern said: "Some time ago I tried a forward dive. I didn't concentrate and ended on my belly. It knocked out my breath, after that I didn't dive for a while."
Here are the rules:
1. Find out how deep is a pool.
2. Never let your hands pull apart or to the side on any headfirst dive.
3. Do not turn your head to the side.
4. Learn exhale from the nostrils when diving feet first. This will prevent water rushing up into the nose.
5. Don't dive before I will get out of the pool, or you will break my back if you will end up on the top of me.
6. Raise your arms completely straight above your head, arms pressing against your ears.
7. Bend at waist. Never bend your knees.
8. Look for the spot on the bottom where you want to lend, when your front paws strike the water. Do not do anything with your tail. It will follow.*
The bears had enough of theory and went to dive. They tried forward dives, backward dives and reverse dives; inward dives, twisting dives, armstand dives, when a diver balances on end of platform in a handstand, then performs a dive from that position.
Then they went for more fun like a swan dive with arms swinging. They tried back dives, but didn't like them much (I don't want to knock my head against something I do not see) and didn't go for somersault dives, because: we are not so advanced yet.
They tried a pike though. By the end of the day they were exhausted. "I think we did to much diving for today." Said Standa and they went just to lie down in the warming evening sun.

* Theory I borrowed from: Dr. Sammy Lee with Steve Lehrman. Diving. New York: Atheneum, 1979. 150 p.

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, Fall 2009

Polar bears - swimming

The swimming pool between bears and seals was divided by thick glass wall, but the seals flatly refused to be in the swimming pool at the same time like polar bears: "Look at that size and their appetite!" So when Northern and Standa went for swim the seals did something else like playing with beautiful beach ball. They learned how to balance it on the tip of their nose tossing it to each other and sliding on the ice. In the Spring time two mother seals were busy with their pups. So polar bears had swimming pool to themselves. In one afternoon they mastered breast stroke, like five times moving their arms to one side of the pool and the same to the other side, or just propel themselves by kicking. They turned around without touching the walls. They knew how to swim under the water, backstroke, and just lie on their back and look at the skies. By the end of the day they exhausted all possibilities of their tiny swimming pool and decided to go next day for diving instead. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 2010

We went for a walk

One Saturday afternoon we went for a walk around a lake. A city boy in his shiny shoes and I. He looked around. We didn't talk. We walked around swimming area. "Last time, when I went to swim here, there was a big, healthy looking human shit swimming toward me. I can not come to swim here anymore. I always see that shit."*
We crossed a little bridge. There is a clean, clear water coming to the lake. Water is coming from the forest. Behind the bridge is camping area. People live in the tents or RV's. Some are sitting at the tables, some make little fires, some have a lunch. The birds are singing. It's peaceful and quiet here. "What are they doing all day long?" he asks. With the camping under the tent it is this way: first night you can not sleep, everything pinches you and you keep sweeping a dirt and more you sweep, more is coming in. Second day you wear shorts or sweatpants, adjust loose pegs, cook a breakfast and watch what other people are doing. Than you loosen up and ask where you can buy milk and many other little things you have forgotten to pack. Your wife drives to the store and makes purchases. She returns, you have a lunch and after lunch you take out your bikes. Next week you all feel comfortable, sleep better and many things are not important anymore. You go for swim and for bike rides, you are getting brown and you feel good. Second week you go for hikes, enroll into bird watching and you make friends. You have to explain new neighbors, where they can buy milk, vegetables and who sells delicious peaches. The third week you begin to count the days, for long time you walk barefoot, small twigs or rocks do not bother you anymore - and you do not want so much to return back to civilization.

*When I told this story to somebody, he said, that the shit must be from Hazelton. How did he now it?

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Translation from Czech
Pottsville, January? 2011

Shenandoah

When we moved to Frackville I liked to take a bus to Shenandoah. There I stopped at doughnut shop for coffee and and a doughnut. The shop had a large selection of doughnuts - at least twenty kinds: plain, sour cream, crullers, doughnuts filled with jelly, creams, apple crumb, long johns, even chocolate filled. I sat at little table, drank coffee and chewed the doughnut, absorbed atmosphere and tried to listen. I still didn't speak English. From time to time I caught a word, but a conversation still didn't make a sense. At next table sat two elderly ladies. We smiled at each other and ladies said something. I told them I do not understand and that I am from Czechoslovakia. Friendly ladies moved to my table and we began a conversation: about Galicia, Poland, Slovakia, and Ukraine. About how their parents came to United States by the end of 19th century and how they have got married. Their husbands worked in the mines and women sewed in the factory, in summer they picked huckleberries, and a year around they looked for pieces of coal to sell and to heat the house. The old ladies didn't speak Polish, Slovak, or Ukrainian. They created their own language. It was something like Slavic Esperanto. Little bit of this, little bit of that. They adjusted, because they wanted to communicate.
I live here for thirty years now. Before Easter I went to look at pisanky. They are made of wood. On the wall hanged a handmade poster. Somebody wrote in Russian: Christos voskres. I read the words aloud and translated into an English. This way I met a gentleman who wrote it. We talked about Andy Warhol, Slovak and Moravian old ladies in rich costumes selling decorated eggs before Easter Na Prikopech St. and Vaclavske Square. I guess, this is also a history today.
I wanted to say thanks to the gentleman, so I said: Dzienkuje. The gentleman understood and he smiled. I do not know if it was in Polish or in Slovak. It was Slavic.

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Translated from Czech
Pottsville, 4/2011

Friendship 3

I rather be you than me. I feel cornered like a rat, when you are asking me questions like what makes me ticking, and when I am going to brake down, when you are bumming a free cigarette from me. Have a one, two, have five to celebrate the end of friendship which exploded like fireworks. I rather be you than me: free computer and paper, free lunches. Boom, there goes one friendship. Inside, deep inside - ouch - it hurts. You said you changed. I guess you did. Next time, when I'll meet your cat I shall bring him a present: a box from Altoids full of very hungry flies. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 4/10/2011

Lake Whitney again

I was to meet a group of people at Fishermen club. I was new to this group and I didn't know anybody. People were friendly, especially one woman took me under her wing. After the meeting she told me they always go to the nearest eatery to have a lunch and invited me to go with them. She introduced me to her half Hispanic children with black shiny eyes. After the lunch she insisted to pay for my meal. I felt awkward, I knew she didn't have money to pay for it but I didn't want to hurt her hospitality. O. K. I shall pay next time. Next time we didn't go, another time I was in the hurry, and another time I wasn't hungry. In one of these meetings I noticed my pen was missing. It wasn't big deal. I wasn't able to come to the meetings for next several weeks. One Saturday I came to the meeting and I was told she passed away. I never repaid her lunch. One day I was sitting at work in lunch area eating a piece of a yellow cake and suddenly a whiff of the air passed by, knocked the cake out of my hand and dropped it on the floor. "You owe me a lunch." "No, I don't. We are even. You took my pen." Whiff of air whiffed away. I told about my experience at the next meeting. A replay was: "Yes, we know she was in this kind of stuff." The end Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 5/14/2010

Why is a cat better in a bed than hot water bottle

I have a cat. She is an orange and white. I think she is the best cat in the World. When I lay down in my bed she crawls there, purrs, and she keeps me warm. I do not have to heat water on the stove and carefully fill a bottle with scalding water. Then I have to plug the bottle well so the water will not spill into my bed (it already happened) and wait until the bottle will be hot just enough to warm up my feet. Then I have kick the bottle out of the bed when the bottle gets cold. This procedure is possible to repeat several times during the night. It is very different with the cat. She purrs, it means she is happy to be with me and keeps me warm whole night. When she lulls me to sleep, she gets out off my bed and she does what the cats do. I do not disturb her. Sometimes, during the night, I feel warm heat on my back. The cat sleeps there. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Translated from Czech Pottsville, Fall 2010

A house

They built this house in 1967. In that year I had my twentieth Birthday. They began to fill it from the top. I would like to know: Why? I know it's just a detail and it is not important. I hope the lady who moved there first wasn't lonely for long and soon she has got the neighbors to love, to build new friendships, to gossip and to complain. She died in 1977. I turned thirty. They put the tenants on the top floor first. Why? Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 5/16/2010

My brother's tall tale 2

The family was harvesting day after day in the waves of heat under oppressive August sun. They put Maruska again on her blanket under a tree with her bowl of porridge and a spoon. Cans with cool water stood in the shade beside her. "Go and check on Maruska and bring us water to drink." Another time, when they went to check on her she wasn't there. Tolya was soon back without water. "She is not on the blanket and she is not nearby either." Whole family left work and ran to look for a baby girl. She could crawl but she wasn't walking yet. She couldn't get to far by herself. The family searched frantically. They found her in the woods about 200 meters away from her blanket. She was unharmed.
In the winter long evenings Maruska's disappearance was a favorite subject for a discussion. They agreed it was probably some animal - a fox perhaps - which dragged her into the woods. Why it didn't eat her? They didn't find an answer.

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, Winter 2011

This elevator

This elevator is making frequent stops. It goes up and down and when you think you are at the top somebody calls you down. Please, let me make it to my floor. I have an ice-cream melting into my shoe. I don't want to take yo yo elevator today. The elevator, give me a direct flight. I wish to fly to the sky. My ice-cream is gone and sticky shoes are making sticky footprints, when I am walking to my door: squelch, smack, squelch, smack ... Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 5/11/2010

Dr. Faust

A key to the hole in a roof.
I think he never died.
They send him back
from time to time
to make more trouble.

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, 5/15/2011

Happy reunion

A dog walked here, one dog full of flies. He was hungry, scared and looking for his master. He doesn't remember when he lost his scent. He was waiting for his whistle. One lost dog. His master was looking for his dog and everybody on the street was showing: here and there walked one lost dog. His master spotted him, when the dog was looking for something to eat at ATM Bank. He whistled and here is running happy master and his dog. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 5/9/2010

I don't know

I don't know
where this country
is going
when nobody
is working
and everybody
is stealing.
I don't know
where this country
is going
when nobody
is working
and everybody
is drugging
and drinking.
It seams
they are having
good time.
I think I am hanging
with the wrong crowd.


Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, 5/9/2011

Unconsidered

How many times was I selfish and unconsidered? In the night I see them passing by in a long line. Young mother traveling alone in an airplane I should let them go first and help her with a car seat. She was so smart, she fed her baby when the plane was about to depart. I didn't let one lady with crazy eyes to have my seat in a smoking section to have a one. I am letting my friends to take a blame and they already have done so much. I can not look into their eyes. I am ashamed. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 5/12/2010

Ladoga lake

No, I wasn't at Stalingrad. I died in Leningrad. You were riding a sled over frozen Ladoga lake with food and medical supplies. German airplane found you out and he aimed well. You died there, too. So much needed food never came. No, you couldn't be at Ladoga lake in the time of blockade. Were you waiting in the line for food, or was everything well organized? Did you hide in the shelter, when the raids came? Of course. You couldn't be at Ladoga lake, when I died from cold and hunger in Leningrad. You were too young. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 5/14/2009

21st April

I hear an ice-cream truck, first in this season, playing its tune; then it stops... Second sound is a skateboard on the sidewalk. It's a long stop. Everybody is hungry for the ice-cream. Maybe a long line, I can't see. I can hear it again. Very short tune - and longer stop. It's coming nearer. Skateboard is jumping on the sidewalk. Still waiting for the sound of ice-cream truck. Children are asking for money and the adults sometimes, too. Get out, run, do not miss the truck! The ice-cream truck is gone, to soon for this season. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 4/21/2010

Our hill

Our hill grew green fur velvet touch with your bare feet. Avoid a dog's poop. Touch and walk in the soft green grass luscious juicy green with darker shadows. Lie down and watch the whispering trees, blue skies with white sheep of clouds. Sheep, why you don't come down to eat our grass? Down came rain. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 5/3/2009

Dream 2

Pippin, my cat, and I took our afternoon nap. Pippin takes more afternoon naps. I try to limit to one. We shared a dream. We were at the pet shop. In the middle of the store was a terrarium with a snake in it. It was coiled and a head was resting on the top of coils. Nobody bothered about the snake. The store changed the owners and the snake was always there. They fed it with a mouse from time to time. There was also a dish with water. One day people began to complain about a stench coming from the snake's terrarium. It was time for cleaning. The snake took its chance and began to uncoil. Pippin's dream: I was there ready to fight. The snake noticed I was there ready for action. The snake was still uncoiling. It must be at least forty feet long and it was already out of terrarium. A manager of the store grabbed a sack and caught the escaping snake into it. He saved a day from one loose snake in Saturday mall. There was the snake in the sack and filthy terrarium in need of cleaning. What now? The pet store has two shopping windows and nearer one with thick sparkling glass was empty. What do you think the snake? The snake slithered into the shopping window with gratitude. "I didn't mean to escape, I just would like to stretch a little bit. Aah." The shop has the snake in its window which is flexing each muscle of its long body - and a crowd of people watching it with fascination. They threw the old terrarium away since it stank so terribly it was impossible to clean it. The end Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 4/30/2011

Monster

A monster lives next door. What he does? He slams the door. For yes or no, slam your door. Slam it twice, if you don't know. 1, 2, 4 slam the door, 1, 3, 5 slam it twice. Keep slamming just for fun. Slam your door now! Copyright(c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 4/3/2009

My brother's tall tales

A family went to harvest. The family it means a mother with five children. Mines a father who past away two months earlier. It was hot August day. They put one year old Maruska on the blanket, gave her a bowl of porridge and a spoon and went to work. From time to time somebody checked on her. On one of these occasions they found out Maruska was still sitting on the blanket, but there was also a snake. Maruska was beating the snake over its head with the spoon, telling it off: "Eto moia kasha." (In that time she was fluent in Ukrainian.) The snake crawled away.

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, Fall 2010

Supernatural

Tuesday morning little supernatural came to my bed. It was so short I didn't notice it first and almost stepped on it. It didn't squirm and it didn't say anything. It just looked. What are you? It was quiet. Do you speak? Nothing. It just intently stared at me. Are you a Martian? No, I answered to myself. Do you speak English? Give me time. Oh, you have to recharge your batteries... Just do not pick up my accent. I had to walk barefoot, because it stood on my slippers. I went to the bathroom. Supernatural was there. I walked back to the bedroom to be sure if its the same one; or are they more of them? It was the same one. "Look, I wish to be alone." It didn't understand. So I gently pushed it with a broom and closed a door. Supernatural was back. I opened the door. It looked like this time it avoided my broom. I poured water into a cup and just sprinkled over it. First nothing happened. So I poured more water over it. It melted. It melted away. It melted completely. I looked everywhere. Maybe it's hiding. I looked even into a trash can. No. It was gone. I think you know now I do not believe in supernatural. Look, maybe it is in your place now. But you have to look well. It was so small. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 3/2010

A rolling pin

A rolling pin, ladies and gentlemen is a part of a dowry, of each woman and a man. The rolling pin rolls sweet cookie dough. A husband has a sweet tooth. He loves cookies every day. Cookies guarantee a harmonious marriage. She cannot sleep who doesn't have one. A young woman has to have the rolling pin what it takes. One who is holding her pin in her hand has immediately higher value to keep off all thugs (beer bottle isn't enough.) Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Translation Pottsville, 4/12/2009

Dear John letter

I have no idea how I ended up in your household anyway. I used to be Dick the gardener's chair with three of my sisters. Dick and his wife worn out two of my sisters and it is how two of us came to your household. Your son used to rock me and my sister left when your household was divided. You didn't care to much about me either. I served you well. You didn't treated me so badly either so I didn't collapsed under you after you gained so much weight. I just broke down into the pieces. Can you grand me my last wish? I would like to be cremated. Well, I just hoped ... So, I'll end up as a garbage.

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, 4/9/2011

Telepathy 1

What is it? It's something I don't believe it. It's an old woman's tale. One day I walked my dog by the Whitney lake in one Fall day. Nobody was around and hungry black birds were flying low in the sky circling us. My disobedient dog perfectly heeled. I could feel her on my leg. "You will protect me." "They will get you first." We walked in perfect harmony toward a park gate. What was it? The dog and I didn't talk, my dog and I communicated without saying a word. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 4/10/2009

Little Red Riding Hood

Do not go by yourself to the woods. I heard there is one big, bad, hungry wolf. Preteen girl doesn't listen, she grabs a basket and hits a trail leading through the woods. Red Cape look forward, do not look into the woods. Dangerous creatures are hiding in the shadows. Listen, do not talk to anybody! It is not a dog, it's an old,sly, lame wolf coming out of the woods! "There is no rush, why you don't enjoy trees beauty, soft moss and look at all flowers for your boyfriend." "I don't have a boyfriend," giggles little girl and spills about her grandma, gives away an address where she lives. Little foolish girl! You'll have to pay! She comes to her grandma's cottage. There, in the bed lies a wolf - a transvestite. You know the end of the story. Females were rescued by brave woodcutter, woodsman, huntsman, or all above. The thirsty wolf, full of rocks, fell into an old well. There goes the good well ... Nobody will be able to clean it up. Silly girl grew up and sometimes she tells how it was to be in the wolf's belly and the grandmother got well. About the content of the basket: eggs, butter, a cake, and according to Brothers Grimm, also a bottle of wine. I was wondering what Red Cape was riding. Where the word came from. A children librarian said it is how the outfit she was wearing, was called. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 4,8/2009

House tenants

They are sitting home and see the World thorough their peep hole. What are they afraid off? Tornadoes, floods, night howling winds, which try to get into their tightly shut windows. What are they afraid off? White mice, pink elephants, and their own shaking hands, when they get up in the morning. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann 3/21/2010

Attic

They put me into the attic together with old trunks, newspaper year twenty one, hats full of dust, an Singer sewing machine, old furniture, chairs with broken legs, and an old phonograph. Who lives in the attic? One lunatic who changes girls every month: "I did nothing to you", she cries. Another short lived love dies. A poet, nobody reads - she still tries. An alcoholic, who doesn't like to be dry. Mystic man in the corner. I think he is a spy. Younger working man, who stays away from this crowd, and in the last corner a man who turned ninety five He has to take care for his one hundred year brother, so he can not die, and I am glad for that, because he is fun. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 4/7/2010

Ad

Lost husband white, blue eyes, scarce hair, lanky. Last seen with short, plump woman. "You may keep him." She did. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 2009

Coffee

Who took my coffee jar? Coffee crystals are glistening. They are not good for my heart. Morning coffee perks me up. It smells better than it tastes. Brown surface promises new beginning of a new day. Have an another cup, crystals are glimmering. Don't drink it, warns my heart. Coffee is promising, when it touches my taste buds. Just one cup in the morning soon after sunrise. It's new day, new dawn. Just one mug, warns my heart. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 3/25/2009

Polar bears - Flies3

Technicians were giving a shower to an elephant. They chained his legs and washed the elephant the same way how people wash their cars. The elephant enjoyed it, especially, when they poured water into his mouth. He drank and drank. Water was cold, clear and fresh. After the shower they took off his chains and the elephant trotted to see his female companion to tell her about his experience. They put their heads together and hugged each other with their trunks. Standa and Northern stopped scratching themselves for a while and looked at the elephants. Something began to churn in Northern's head. "Standa, did you have a female in Brno?" "No, I am to young for it." Technicians noticed scratching bears very well and the bears received their evening meal with the pills to kill the flies. Next days the bears were scratching their backs on the tree trunk only out of the habit and down poured dead flies with the black bottoms, extra long suckers and the crossbred. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 2010

Polar bears - Flies2

Uncomfortable situation was solved by flies. Standa's flies with black bottoms were biting Northern and Northern's flies with long suckers bothered Standa for change. The bears began to scratch and tried to bite flies in their furs. Then Standa lost his temper: "Keep yours flies, I have enough of my own." Northern responded: "They are not only my flies, they are also yours flies, and I would like you to know I found one with the black bottom and extra long sucker. They multiply in our furs." This reply brought them together. With the hunting for flies, they also loosen up their muscles, and found out, how hungry they are. So they left the cave to eat. So they were waiting for their technician to come and they held a meeting. About the flies and how to get rid of them, and how to call the technician with their food. "Can you stand on your head?" asked Standa. "I didn't try it yet." answered Northern. "Isn't it difficult?" "No. You only have to be careful not to fall on your nose. It hurts." Standa climbed on the top of the rock, where he stood on his head. It wasn't the best handstand. His butt was sticking out, but it was the handstand. "Now you give a try." So both bears were standing on their heads and of course, the visitors gathered around to watch polar bears. This was, what the bears were waiting for. They began to scratch furiously all their body parts and tried to bite the flies off. "Look, they have flies." Said one little boy, who had a dog, so he knew it. "Gee, they are two fleabags," and the visitors rather walked away to see another attractions. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville 2010

Polar bears - Flies

Second day morning, after all fun they had yesterday, and how the seals were watching with their mouths wide open, both bears woke up grumpy. They tried to move, but they were hurting all over. It looks like they over did it yesterday with all exercise, and being lazy, and have a good life, they were not accustomed to any hardship. More, Standa spreaded himself, when he was sleeping, and was lying with more than half of his body on Northern rump. They were warm this way, but Northern began to think something about immigrants in stripe pyjamas, so he growled, snarled and was difficult. Standa's scruff of his neck was stiff after so many jumps head first, so he was as difficult as Northern. First they tried to be nice to each other, so they tried silent treatment. It bothered Standa. He began to miss Brno and he decided to ask their technician for a piece of a paper and a pencil to write a letter. He even made a promise do not kick a soccer ball into foxes' den. He will throw all bones and garbage he could find instead. He could see foxes' faces and hear them woof and bark. He chuckled to himself. They still didn't talk to each other and even didn't go to eat. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 2010

Forest

Quiet sound of tall trees. Smell like a gentle imitation of Pine Sol. I know it's the other way around. I am thinking about daily use. I sit on a luscious green moss. Get up, you can catch a tick. In front of me I see light brown heads of a mushroom family and a cluster of wild strawberries - frugal gifts of the forest - comparing to supermarket. I like wild strawberries more. I am looking up up up into a blue and white sky, surrounded by quiet, comforting sound of trees. Swoosh, swoosh of the cars on a highway seems to be far faraway. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 3/4/2010

Forest 2

Forest
Green, tall
Comforting, refreshing, chirping
Wild berries, fern, thicket, mushrooms
Timber, muddy roads, buzzing saws
Devastation, destruction
Clearings

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, 3/4/2011

Chicken

No chicken left All is gone eaten by myself and my friends Now you will have to go to a farm To catch a chicken to kill the chicken to pluck the chicken to cut the chicken to take out innards from the chicken to wash the chicken sprinkle it with spice to bake the chicken to eat the chicken ... Wait a second, here comes a farmer's wife. Who is going to pay for mine chicken? Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 2/28/2009

Spring cleaning

Spring cleaning? There is hardly any. A pear tree shed its last leaf. A squirrel observes last year nest: good enough. I'll wait for new foliage to grow, then I shall have some roof. There are still hills of snow sprinkled with black soot. Where that came from? A garbage man came and filled his truck. Bob is running his vacuum cleaner on the parking lot. Running? What? He has some kind machine with brushes. I can not observe him. He doesn't like it. Somebody took a cat litter I hid in the attic. I shall get new one and keep it in my car. Spring cleaning? There is hardly any. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 2/28/2010

Sailors 2

After such answer the sailors are looking for a library, because they would like to know more about Alibaba and his companions, and why the girls prefer them over hardworking sailors. Of course, all libraries in town are already closed by this time of the day, and bookstores do not carry Alibaba. The sailors began to get insanely jealous and go to the bar to get drunk. Some of them drink to oblivion, some howl and brawl, and other get sick. All of them return to the hotel late and they are grounded the next day and they have to listen to the yodeling of Chodsky's sailors: "I am missing her, I am missing her while she serves in Postrekov."
Next day the ship takes off and the sailors are glad, because in the next port they will be able to borrow and read about Alibaba and forty thieves - and they are hoping the girls there do not have to go to the bed at seven o'clock evening.

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
sometimes 2010
Pottsville, PA

Sailors

To Joseph

And of each sailors, when they anchor in the ports, will buy a bottle of club soda and he walks into his room, he sits on the bed, pulls out pictures from his breast pocket and spreads them out on the night table. They are the pictures of his mother, little sisters, sweetheart, or his wife and children, or at least, a cat. And the sailor is looking at them with nostalgia, and quietly, just for himself, sobs. And those sailors who came as far as from Bohemia; in the evening gather in one corner of the room with the bottle of water from iceberg and they are singing in Czech with Chodsky dialect: "In our village square a boy is yodeling: God, oh dear God, I am missing her."
So, all the songs and tales about drunken sailors are made up, and they are outrageous lies. It's the truth, some individuals are seeking bars and they are asking questions about brothels, but all brothels are already closed, and brothel mama tells them: "Boys, go to the bed, we close at seven o'clock evening. The girls drank their glass of milk , and they are already in bed listening to story about Ali Baba and forty thieves. We open at six o'clock morning, and first ten customers will get a free bun with milk, and for those, who didn't get enough of sleep, we serve a chamomile tea."

Sun

New day gets up.
It wears gray sky.
Where is the Sun?
It's basking its feet
down in Belize,
Argentina, or Mexico.
Children write him a letter:
Dear Sun, come soon,
it's cold and wintry here.
I am busy here now.
Enjoy your snow,
build snowmen,
sled and ski.
I'll send you
a box of oranges
via UPS
on my way
to the beach.

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, January 2011

Pottery town - Sunset of pottery fairs

The fair grew so enormous, that the City had to turn some potters down. The potters, of course, didn't like it and they began to open pottery markets in the neighboring towns and farther, the same way like the circles in the water after somebody throws a rock. The Pottery fairs were not once a year, but each month, and then every week, but always on Thursdays. Some greedy potters began to have fairs each day, but not many buyers showed up. Why have we to travel to the Fair, when we can go there each day? The households were overflowing with the pottery, and also people began to be more careful with the breaking the dishes. "It costs money." The potters started to deliver their goods directly to the stores. "Why have we trudge to the Pottery fairs, when they are everywhere?" Italian tiles merchant founded tile factory in the nearby town with the sign "Export" and shipped the tiles in bulk. The pottery fairs ceased to be every day, they continue each week, then each third Thursday in the month, and not even then too many buyers showed up. The fairs were reduced to one pottery fair a year and the glory became a tradition. "Buy our clay whistles, they are good for play and sports."
There was a conflict over the spice-boxes. Both, Pottery town and Pottery village claimed their production. The manufacturer of glass won. "In our glass you see what you are buying, so you can not buy any hare in clay." Also in the same time the historical societies expressed their interest to buy clay spice-boxes to have something to show to the visitors. It was very hard to obtain a complete set - usually there was always something missing or broken.
Brown's family doesn't break their pottery anymore. "We have to save. The boys and a girl would like to go to the college and it cost money." The local potters still make their pitchers, jugs and mugs. The boys and girls walk with them directly to the brewery to get draft beer. Their parents are usually so lubricated, so they can not go by themselves.
The End

Copyright (c) written in Czech
Marie Neumann, January 2011
Copyright (c) English translation
Marie Neumann, February 2011

Pottery town - Police

The situation was so bad the City called Philadelphia for a law enforcement. They also turned for help to Camden, but Camden answered they have plenty of their own thieves. New York promised to help according to: I shall scratch your back if you you will scratch mine.
In February, near to the Pottery fair day, the policemen, detectives, and the plain clothes policemen took a week training, where they learned about thieves psychology, thieving techniques, a prowess of their fingers, and how to sneak to the thieves from the side and the back. Those who were extremely good knew, how to pick thieves pockets looking straight into their eyes.
So it happened that one successful thief returned home from the market, called mom and children, and in front of them put his hands into his, now empty pockets, and began to pull out crumbs, broken pieces of chewing gum, and the crumpled balls of paper tissues. His family laughed at him and continued to dry their mouths in front off the stove, or outside in the sun.
So, thanks to to skillful police, the pick pockets didn't have a good time in the City. Police practiced, in their free time, their skills as amateur magicians. One plain clothes policeman pulled out of school inspector wallet a silver dollar for what he received five minutes standing ovations.
City police, detectives, and plain clothes policemen were asked to come to help to the cities with the large population of thieves. They were successful, brought home money, and could see the world.

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, February 2011

Pottery town - Thieving trade

Unfortunately, with the blooming pottery trade, began to flourish another one - thieving. So in the time of pottery fair were heading for town not only potters and buyers, but all kind of thieves, robbers, prowlers, trouble makers, criminals, felons, culprits, villains, sticky five fingers, or four, when they didn't have one, pick pockets, petty thieves, rogues, rascals, mischiefs, tricksters, and crooks. Surprisingly, not many drunks and drug addicts showed up. Drunks and drug addicts didn't handle their body parts very well, they knocked down something and the potters were right there chasing them away. And women potters were lashing loud their tongues well. Everyone could hear them a block away. So drunks and druggies ran and didn't stop until at town periphery, where they rolled a cigarette with their shaky fingers, they even couldn't spit, because all spit dried up, when they were running, and went to try their luck to the pubs, or malls.
In the time of pottery fair the lawyers took a vacation time and flew to Miami to play golf and get suntan, or to some distant golf courses.
It happened to the potters, that they returned home without all profits, and the buyers missed not only money and credit cards, but their wallets, all change, pocketbooks, scarves and gloves as well. The beginning of March is still cold. One shopper took off a shoe with a sock to get a rid of a rock, but the shoe, brown sock, and little rock disappeared. This went to far.

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, January 2011

Pottery town - Industrious clay products

The pottery filled town square and flooded adjacent streets. The cars parked in suburbs and outside of town. People could get to town on foot. To the suburbs was possible to take a bus, or one horse trolley. The handcarts become handy. When somebody purchased more then he could carry, he asked for the handcart, the seller loaded it, and the buyer brought it to his car and left the handcart there. Skillful boy on rolling skates, or a skateboard delivered the handcart back.
In adjoining streets was a market with industrious day products, like clay buckets, throws, butter churns, barrels, canisters, containers, kettles and vats, heavy Mexican ovens, gutters, pipes, chutes, grooves, channels and washtubs.
One day an Italian merchant with ceramic tiles showed up, he enjoyed pizza, and began with his business. He brought one hundred tile samples: the tiles for the bathroom, kitchen and the walls, and the tiles for the floors. Of course, the potters who where at the pottery fair since the beginning didn't stay behind and they began to produce decorative tiles. "Buy a tile for each occasion." "Give a poem written on the tile for a Birthday, a name day, and anniversary. "You can hang them on the wall." And the one potter started to make bird tiles: "Do bird watching with the tiles of Mr. Downing." "You can have a nice owl collection with our tiles."

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, January 2011

Click, click, click

Click, click, click goes fountain pen. I ignore it. Typing slows down, more errors occur. Click, click, click. Concentrate, think about something else; or use a pencil. Click, click, click. I chew on pencil. Do not eat a lead. I chew and spit out splinters. Click, click, click. Compulsion becomes obsession. If I'll hear click, click, click one more time I shall scream. I couldn't resist. Click, click, click. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 2/19/2011

Pottery town - Games

Pottery town, or Pottery village is named after a memorable Mr. Pott and not after pots. I all made it up. Of course you can buy all kind of pots here. There is one absolutely adorable polka dot pitcher in the shopping window. You can also take pottery classes...
"Manicka, I am sorry, I am not going to shoot for you any clay heart in the pottery range, but if you like you can have mine".
There is a stand dedicated to licking of pots; pots from sauces, honey, large bowls from bread, cake dough, and others doughs; scraping the bowls from Christmas cookies and pots used by bad cooks. People with the skills can make their own bowl, or a custom made chamber pot.
Potters were also bringing unsuccessful pottery and those pieces were dedicated for shooting range. "Learn to aim with your own rock into pots instead of people." Admission fee was little bit higher, but it was compensated by satisfaction of the customer, when he hit an askew pitcher.
Because March is still cold, there was a long, low, heated building. At the entrance the potter apprentices were chopping the clay. There was a huge shallow bath for those with restless feet. "Kneed your own clay." People were looking, with great satisfaction, at the clay pressing and oozing between their toes. Especially city people enjoyed this creative pass time.
The pool full of clay was for folk and disco dancers. Especially solid clay attracts clog dancers.
For children there were pools, where they could build mountains, castles, trenches, dams and mud pies. On the display is a model of Mariana trench built by KJN.
They are warm showers in the building and dressing rooms. Parents do not forget to bring sets of clean clothes for their children, because these activities are unusually messy. After a day in play with clay, children fall asleep in the moment, when they touch car seats.

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, January 2011

Pottery town - Earthenware 2

And there were potters with the baking forms; small fish and the big fish for whole family, Easter lamb and an Easter bunny; simple or marble, or sponge cake forms, simple, or with the stripes to the right, or to the left. "The cake forms we make single, or for more layers. If you have big oven, purchase more cake forms, or pans."
Favorite were pans and small pans for one with one, or two handles, handy for pulling the hot pan out of the oven. The pans were made for one, two, family size, lasagna, turkey, and even one for a piglet.
Next to the stand with the pans were clay money banks in the shape of a pig, frog, or a chicken. It was possible to buy a small, low income piggy bank, or for who saved sparingly, or the big piggy banks for who who could save lavishly. "Our sow will save you a fortune."
Almost each stand sells a colorful clay marbles for the girls and boys. "For one dollar you can have one hundred, and if you pay more, it will be a full bag."
Buyers could get mugs with chubby cheeks, or potbellied; cookie containers with the lids. "In our cookie jar your cookies will not spoil. Just do not put them out of reach of children." "Place our mugs on your shelves. They will look good in your cupboards and in your china cabinet, too." "Nothing will please more your heart like our clay pots."
Clay spice-boxes were crossing the borders. "He marry well with our spices." "Spices in our glazed spice-boxes with tight lids will stay fresh for many years." "With our spice-boxes each plane is flying to all countries." "Our spice-boxes are in the window of my publisher."
"Buy our clay dolls from St. Clair. They are smiling even when they fall on the floor." "Our clay vases look good on the wall or table. Only fool will not buy them." "With our clay you will learn fast to speak Spanish. The clay is imported from Mexico."
Clay toys sold well. They broke fast and have had to be replaced. Everybody new that the children were coming from pottery fair by the whistles of a little, painted clay birds filled with water.

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, January 2011

Pottery town - Earthenware

Pottery trade flourished. So the City with a mayor in the head decided, that pottery fair will be first Thursday in March, but nobody wanted to wait for leap year, so it will be every year. The town square was filled with the merchandise, potters, buyers and onlookers. Beer pitchers, mugs and jugs were very popular. Potters made them in majolica, glazed, enameled, decorative, and with all kind of flowery patterns. The pitchers decorated with beer foam around a neck, with the picture of a beer wave and a surfer on the top were clearly number one.
Decorated plates, soup plates, saucers and bowls with circles; big peripheral circles, then smaller and smaller, and just little in the middle were success. The producers of cups and mugs didn't want to stay behind and came up with the name mugs: forget-me-not pattern for Jane, little roses for Mary, and daffodils for Hedvika. Of course, all mug potters were making faces: "The name mugs, it's nothing new. We sell them for long time. "Yes, but not in clay."
The manufactures of chamber pots and potties decorated them with peonies and a slogan: "Our potty will snug around your butt." "We carry pots and potties of all sizes."
And there were decorative potters of wall plates: our dishes into each family, and a good cook uses only our eartenware.
The bowls favored a pretzel pattern. Yellow pretzels circled the bowl and there was one bigger pretzel with two smily eyes on the bottom. Dogs and cat bowls were decorated with tasty bones and yummy mice. Canary dish had a seed pattern. The large bowls to make batter and dough carried a bread, bun, scone, cake, tart, or pie pattern. Flowerpots were on sale in rectangular or oblong shape: Our flowerpots will save space on your windowsill.

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, January 2011

A desperate cat

They took all my food! A cat is jumping, leaping, running with his bushy tail high. They came and took whole my bag - and my litter box, too. What am I going to do? I'll have to starve to the death while somebody's cat is, on my food, getting fat. The cat is desperate. It's a matter of life and death. He meows and meows. I hold him in my arms, then tuck him under the blankets in my bed. Kitty, we will have to move. This is what we can do. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 2/16/2010

Pottery town - How the fair started 2

She also began to think. About what her husband and children will say, when they see their dining room, from what they will eat. From what they will eat the cat and the dog, because she didn't save their dishes either.
Mrs. Brown took a shower, she dressed, combed her hair, and began to clean up all broken dishes. By the noon she filled their two garbage cans, and before her children came home from school, with the permission of her neighbors, filled their garbage cans as well. The neighbors began to ask the questions, what happened, and Mrs. Brown already thought about the answer. "The cat and the dog were chasing each other and they broke everything." The neighbors believed, or didn't, they knew Mrs. Brown has had a temper, but they didn't see anything, so they couldn't talk.
Mrs. Brown served snacks for children on paper plates. In the evening her husband came home from work, the cat and the dog better didn't show up, and Mrs. Brown served to her husband and her children dinner on the paper altogether with the same story. The cat and the dog sat in the basement and were telling each other, how that woman knows how to tell lies, but they couldn't do anything, so they were hungry waiting for children to bring them something to eat. Late in the evening, after their parents went to the bed, children brought the food, also on the paper plates. Meanwhile the news about the Browns eating out of the paper soon filtered out, and the first two salesmen with the pottery dishes showed up on Thursday. Mrs. Brown purchased plenty of dishes, and other people as well. The potters have had a good day and the news about good sales spread into neighboring towns. This was the beginning of the pottery fair in the Pottery town.
Pottery town, the ladies and gentlemen,
the Pottery town pays the most.
When there is a fair, travel there.
It's a potter's haven.
Nothing hurts so much
as do not show
at pottery fair
in the pottery valley.
All potters, lets travel there,
its potters haven.
When there was the first anniversary, a town square was full of potters and also buyers. So this was the beginning of Pottery Fair in Pottery town.

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, January 2011

Pottery town - How the fair started

Mrs. Brown was temperamental young lady. There is a rumor going on she was also red headed, not only hair, but also her eyebrows and eyes were red. There is an old photograph of her, but it is only black and white, so it is hard to decide, because nothing is based on scientific fact. It was probably only a rumor. So this lady with strawberry blond hair woke up one morning with her left foot, and how she was trying to stand up, she stepped on her dog's tail. The dog was snoozing, it didn't expect any attack, it got scared, and bit Mrs. Brown's ankle. She was ready to kick it. The dog was mix up breed and it didn't wait, it took off on time, and Mrs. Brown's left foot kicked the air. She lost her balance and ended up in one heap on the floor.
Mrs. Brown woke up late, children already left for school, and left the table full of crumbs, spilled milk, and burnt toast. In the middle of the table sat a cat and was busy licking spilled milk. Mrs. Brown got mad. She didn't have anything proper near her hand, so she threw a chair after the cat. The cat, of course, didn't wait, he took off and disappeared. The chair broke all the dishes on the table, including milk jug, sugar bowl, butter dish, mugs, plates and a vase with fresh cut flowers full of water. Her nerves were not able to handle this situation. She began to pull all cups, saucers, mugs and plates out of the cupboards, and threw them in all directions. Then she began to cry.
It relieved her stress. She found one cup only without a handle, she made a coffee, sat on the chair, lit a cigarette, and began to observe a disaster area she was responsible for. It happened February, 29.

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, January 2011

Pottery town

Written for 200. anniversary of town Pottery town, or ceramic village, is well known for its production of pots of all shapes, sizes, colors, and thicknesses. Besides pots, there is an abundance of bowls, plates, saucers, mugs, lids and small lids, tureens, jugs and pitchers - decorated or plain; coffee cups and mugs, potties and chamber pots, toys, flower pots and figures of all kind. When there is a pottery fair, usually first Thursday after February 29, be very careful, where you step, because the pots are everywhere. The sidewalks are full, they cover shopping windows, advertisements, and spread out into parking lots. Do not wave your arms, because when you knock down only one cup you will hear a flood of strong words from a salesman, and usually, a potter in one. "Watch your step, you clumsy clod," and "What do you think who will pick up all broken pieces?" Humiliated buyer picks up broken pieces, the salesman wraps them into pink, or other color tissue paper, or just an old newspaper. He makes a little package, ties it with a string and makes nice bow - and he sells them for an original, full price. So "clumsy clod" takes home broken pieces of a vase, he buys glue, and in the evenings he glues pieces together, altogether with fingers and the clothes he wears on. "Buy a dozen of our cups, so you will have enough to break in your marriage." There is no pottery clay around the town, so the potters bring it from Great Canyon. This is why there is such a gigantic hole in the ground. But the citizens of the State of Arizona declared that's enough is enough, they don't want any deeper hole in their back yard, because another day a tourist fell into it, together with a donkey, and the donkey broke all four its legs. The tourist lost his camera, and the Great Canyon have had to pay for it. The donkey went to hungarian salami. Now potters are looking for new deposits of clay. There suppose to be plenty of pottery clay in New Mexico and Texas. Popular are beer mugs, buttermilk jugs, and water pitchers. Merchandise is high quality, glazed, or varnished, with the picture of contemplating miner sitting on the coal boulder. Pottery town girls are hitching up their miniskirts and roll up tight jeans, when is pottery fair, so they will not brush against the mountains of pottery dishes. Purses and handbags are usually left home, so they couldn't graze, by sheer accident, the merchandise. Parking lots are packed with cars, pick up trucks and trucks of buyers, which are coming from the distance. "Pots for sale, heigh-ho, pots for sale." "Manicka, buy a cuppa, or I, at least shoot for you a clay hearta." "Mister, in this pitcher your beer will not get warm, and, how I look at your belly, will not get flat, either." "Flowers in our pitcher will decorate your table and will look fresh for long time," loudly declare salespersons. Really, there is a great fun to be at pottery fair, just to walk, observe and listen. Do not miss it for anything and bring home at least a cup, or a little bowl for your cat or a dog." Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, January 2011

Mineral rights

I purchased a little lot at the cemetery. I do not know which cemetery. Children will have to find out. I feel better since I own it. Nobody will be able to kick me out from that cemetery. The lot is mine. Isn't it? I didn't ask anything about mineral rights. When we purchased our first house we had mineral rights. The land was ours to the Center of Earth. What about mine six feet under? I think I don't care.

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, 2/6/2011

Black birds

Run, little girl, run. The birds are flying in the sky. They circle lower and lower. Little girl, don't take your time, take skies, or barefoot, just run. The little girl disappeared. An old toothless hag is grinning in the window. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 1/2/2010

Questions

What is Mashenka doing? She crumbles crumbs for the geese. What is she crumbles? Crumbs. Why is she crumbles? To make them fat. Why have they be fat? To fit into a frying pan. Enough of questions. It's time to sleep. Why have I a belly button? A skin has to end somewhere. What was he doing at a concert? He pissed into an audience. Why? He didn't find a toilet. She prefers married men. Does it pay off? She doesn't have to press shirts. Will she also get hit over her head with a handbag? We shall see. Now it's time to sleep, when I satisfied your curiosity. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville. 1/20/2010

Flying

You want me to fly. I am already flying. Upside down, sideways and loosing myself in the deep of the sky. So dizzy I do not recognize, where is the ground. I am flying, flying farther from reality, crashing to the ground with all bones unbroken. It was only my mind swollen like big balloon landing in the parking lot and bouncing on the sidewalk. A tune about loneliness, about solitude, about unwritten song, about flying, is ringing in my ears without words. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 1/22/2010

Skeleton in the closet

A skeleton sits in the closet. It sits quietly, doesn't mean to move. Don't wake him up. He sits still, he doesn't breath anyway. Just be sure to leave the closet closed. A drunken Marzena could tumble out. The skeleton is blabbing something incoherently. Let him be! It is not nice, what he says. Skeleton rattles his bones. Shut the door, lock it! It's not nice, what he says. Bury him, cremate him! Call him echo! The skeleton found his soul. He looks at it amazed, strokes it with one finger lovingly, and then, rattling his bones, leaves the closet. Marzena is holding scales in her hands. The skeleton handles her little pebbles. Two precious stones, little pile of shimmering pebbles. What's left is cinder. Marzena, it's not up to you to judge. Marzena looks quietly. She smiles silent smile. You know, I am yours. Pebbles are glittering. What about cinder, the crowd is hissing. Everyone has some. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, December 2010

My darling

My darling, do not call. My phone is to radio station connected. My darling, do not send me your e-mail. E-mail has barriers - it will not deliver. My darling, do not sigh, rather send me music on CD, music you like. My darling, write a letter and I shall send you last year rose petals wrapped in pink tissue paper. My darling, they guard my each step and follow me everywhere. It's hard to believe, in my age to have such protective parents. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 5/1/2010

February, 29

Freezing rain rustles in the trees. Snow plow does it's solitary job in the dark streets so people could drive to the work in the morning and yellow buses take children to the school. Even evil minds sleep and rest from plotting, shocking, disturbing schemes. Snow plow is working and few cars are already gliding to the work in the freezing rain. There are more cars now on the road slowly crawling to their destination - work. It's February, 29, early in the morning. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 1/18/2010

Trip to London

I am going to London. What shall I need?:
a valid passport.
What shall I see?:
a British airplane.
I am going to London. What shall I need?:
a valid passport, round trip ticket from New York to London and hotel reservation.
I am going to London. What shall I see?:
British airplane, airport in London.
I am going to London. What shall I need?
a valid passport, round trip ticket from New York to London and hotel reservation, British money.
I am going to London. What shall I see?:
British airplane, airport in London, underground.
I am going to London. What shall I need?:
a valid passport, round trip ticket from New York to London and hotel reservation, British money, a good guide and a map of London and underground.
I am going to London. What shall I see?:
British airplane, airport in London, underground, Trafalgar Square.
I am going to London. What shall I need?:
a valid passport, round trip ticket from New York to London and hotel reservation, British money, a good guide and a map of London and underground, a powder blue suitcase. Et cetera, et cetera.
Ad infinitum
Ad absurdum
Ad nauseam.
Are we there yet?

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
1/10/2011
GROW assignment

Kitty

To Michelle When I am going to the fridge, here comes the cat walking to his dish. Then he curls on my plate. Thank you, kitty, I already ate. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, November 2010 POW! GROW

The beans

Oh, my gosh, I spilled the beans. What is going happen to me? I spilled the great Northern beans in the red sauce. I spilled them on the floor, on the carpet, over my slippers, on the table and my robe. Some stained my pajamas, some are on the counter. end sauce is dripping down the fridge and the kitchen cabinets. I cleaned it all. Still, I spilled the beans, what shall happen to me? What am I going to eat? I am going to have oatmeal for breakfast. It sounds better than beans. I spilled the beans, oh my, what shall happen to me? Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 1/8/2011

Pleaser

Our brave sailor drank to much beer yesterday with his friends. His pockets are empty. His eyes are blurry and his head is heavy like a stone - and now his third wife comes and demands money. Money for food. I don't have it. Money for dog food. I don't have it. She is buzzing into his ears. Then she plays nice. At least, money for gas, honey. There goes our brave sailor in the dark to suck gas from other cars to please his third wife. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 1/5/2010

Teenagers

In these days people complain how much teenagers eat. I remember my son. We joked he will eat us out of the house. In one year he grew up eight inches. "He isn't so bad. It's girls." Time to build bones, time to build muscles. Eat. We have to eat. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 11/11/2010

Magic of Christmas

Walking to the Church for midnight mass dressed in many layers, because there is no heating in the church. Lada's pictures of carolers all bundled up in white snow. Two pairs of earrings one Christmas. Big family gathering at Barans's and we are invited. Our daughter is dressed like a doll. Crystal glasses, bike and sewing machine under the tree. My sisters throwing their shoes over their left shoulder. It worked. They didn't become spinsters. One Christmas Eve we played with its magic. We let birthday candles float in walnut shells. All but one stayed together. I gave a searching look to my children: which of you will go? Next year I left for seven long years. I am not playing with Christmas magic anymore. I don't want to know. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 12 27/2010 POW! assignment