Doors

There are always doors. Familiar doors
we use every day.
Coming in
and going out.
Close it quietly.
Some don't.
Some slam it shut.

There are doors
to tomorrow,
there are doors
to yesterday
and the doors
to the future.
Little flap doors
for the cats
and big doors
to the banks.

Doors with the doorknobs
and those with the handls
and the doors
where you have to
punch the numbers.

Door to the kitchen
and you think
you still can smell
tomato soup
you had for supper
yesterday.

Door to your parents bedroom
you don't open
when it is closed.
Huge door to the school,
when you are so small.
One day that door
closes behind you.
One day you own a key
to your first apartment
and it has your name on it.

The doors to your future,
the doors to unknown,
full of surprises,
we open every day.
One day you return
your card
to the door
you closed willingly
and open the door
to the quiet life.
You open it quizzically.
Here I come
my old age.

My neighbor died yesterday.
He had diabetes.
The illness which
will get you
soon or later
finger by finger,
toe by toe.
There is emptiness
and wet eyes
of his wife and children,
It was his last door
and now it's closed.

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, 12/2/2010

Blue

To Alexa Little blue house and little blue river, little blue lady riding little blue donkey, holding little blue guitar and singing softly blues. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 11/10/2009

"The Sun, the Moon and the Stars"

For Jan and Ashley Mother Moon is baking moon pies for her children stars. "Save some for father, save some for father, save some for father." "Father will get none." Children are gathering pie crumbs and throw them into the sky. "They are for you father Sun." Then hail comes. Father gets none. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 2010 POW! GROW

Home

It's raining outside. I am lying on the sofa under the light of the lamp with the pink shade, wrapped in the warm blanket, reading a mystery book and sipping hot tea with lemon and honey from my favorite mug. The cat is sleeping at my feet. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 15/10/2009 POW! GROW

I don't dance

I don't dance Texas two step. No, thank you. I really don't. I even do not waltz anymore. I can not tango, polka, fox-trot, or cha-cha. I don't dance two step. I even do not walk steps. I can sit and smile, sometimes frown. I cook, eat,watch the world still in awe. I can smell roses Yes, I can flirt. I just do not dance anymore. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 10/20/20011

A cat

I am white and orange, nine pounds including whiskers and a tail. Our mom knew how to dip deep into genetic pool. I have three brothers and two sisters. One is Siamese, one calico, brother is a big, fat tabby. We have Himalayan, and scrawny, bowlegged, bushy tailed sister.
They used to call me a Hop, or something like that, because I liked to hop high on the grass. It was sunny, grass was green, fields full of mice and snakes just across dirty road. Little town had a butcher who knew how to make jitrnice (something like pudding in the casing) and sausages. There were also two bakeries with wonderful kolatches and poppy seed strudels.
Then one day two women came. One of them was driving a van. I knew I will have to go. They were to many of us in the house. They put me on the floor of the van and took off. I had to pee, but I was holding back. Humans can be very opinionated about little puddles.
I went to live with my woman. She smokes.

To be continued.

A mouse and a moose (Tongue twister)

To Krystof A mouse mumbles to the moose: meet me Monday at midnight under the mistletoe when is full moon. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 10/9/2009