At the Movies

            She held her head high caressing fingers through coifed hair as she looked around at us, her only audience. Her face wasn’t pretty, but her make-up was tastefully done- enough base and eye-liner to know it was there.

“Senior? Oh, yes! I’m a senior.” And then she laughed, a bass laugh that didn’t match her petite body. She laughed as if in surprise. “How could I be a senior? Look how hip I’m dressed!” She laughed with confidence. “Ha, ha! Yes, I’m a senior but I’m not old yet!”

“Come on, babe.” The man hustled her away from the ticket kiosk. There were flecks of grey in his short curly brown hair.  He was of average height and build, unremarkable really. It was the woman he was with that made me take a second glance and see the animal in him, his masculine frame, sculpted by weight lifting, his self-assured gait like that of a lion. And it was her jeans that fit just right, jeans with rhinestones on her butt that kept my eyes focused on her backside.

They held hands as they walked up the ramp to the ticket taker. I thought they’d be going to “50 Shades of Grey,” but no. Here they were, choosing a seat in the same theater as we were for “Still Alice.”  How could a couple so excited about each other choose to watch a film about suffering, about the shut down of the brain, about death?

I forgot to look for them coming out. I wonder if they were brimming with as much desire for each other as when they came in.         

The Oaks

The oaks spread their branches wide.

Other trees reached up through them.

The oaks spread their branches wide

Welcoming squirrels to race along crusty arms.

The oaks spread their branches wide.

 Leaves filtered sunlight, it zoomed down to nourish fragile plants below.

The oaks spread their branches wide.

People infirm tottered. The sturdy strode beneath.

The oaks spread their branches wide

Enveloping sounds of talking, hawking, cajoling, cautioning.

Sometimes people looked up and acknowledged the miracle.

The oaks spread their branches wide.

A Party Yellow

            The trees are bare. No sunlight shines through green leaves. There is one maple in the neighbor’s yard, its leaves a party yellow. It stands like a pretty girl at the dance who doesn’t see the DJ packing up. She stands alone wishing someone would ask her for the next dance. Her wishing blocks the view of the almost empty hall.

            The next day’s wind will rip off the maple’s finery. The next moment’s hopelessness will move the girl out the door to the bus stop. She’ll wait under the streetlight’s unforgiving glare for the number 32 to take her to her neighborhood corner. 

Have you ever felt at your wit's end with your computer, at the end of your learning curve? Here's a poem that expresses my strong feelings. ope you'll share yours with me.

The Time Waster

The computer’s not working.

I feel agitated, frustrated.

Aggravated, and afraid.

Something technical went wrong.

I’m angry, upset,

Torn to pieces and betrayed.

Why doesn’t it work? What else can I do?

I’ve followed instructions

But now it’s delayed.

I’ve read the directions,

From one to ninety-six.

It said to continue

And I obeyed.

 It’s still not working,

Not doing my bidding.

What mistakes have I made?

My fault was to have trusted

A machine that is busted!

It has wasted my day!

Introduction

Hi! My name is Jackie and I've created this blog to share writing successes and thoughts about the writing process. This will also be the place to read poems and other writings, yours and mine.

Adventures on Tuesdays is out in the world, on Amazon, and Kindle.  I hope you will read and write a review review on Amazon and comment here.