Limping Over the Finish Line on the Last Day of NAPOWRIMO

Poetry Marathon

the winners have been crowned,
the crowds have winnowed down,
I still limp along the route,
short of breath and sore of foot,
to cross the abandoned finish line
with worn out words trailing behind.

(c)2012 Noreen Braman

World Laughter Day - May 6, 2012

My latest article for Examiner.com
World Laughter Day - May 6, 2012

Review of "Patient Zero" by Jonathan Maberry

Patient Zero by Jonathan Maberry
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Since I am not a big fan of zombies, I purchased this book because it promised to be more than a zombie book. And, wow, did it keep that promise! Not only does this take a completely different spin on zombies, it weaves in a swift-moving contemporary plot involving terrorists, secret government agencies, double- and triple-crosses, psychology and pure mayhem. Joe Ledger joins Miles Flint on my list of reluctant heroes, doing battle with clashing cultures, inhuman creatures and evil on a massive scale. As a native of New Jersey, I also appreciated the local color of the Tri-State area that Maberry added to this book.

I look forward to reading the other books in the series, as well as the prequel short stories.

View all my reviews

Another Watery Adventure

I may be looking at a Volume 2 for my book!

Yesterday, an appliance malfunction reminded me that water-related events continue to haunt me. I thought I was safe when the 100 year flood in Jamesburg only brought water into my yard and right up to my deck, but not into my crawlspace or house. For the past several winters I have scrupulously avoided frozen, burst water pipes by always remembering to let the kitchen faucet trickle, just a tiny bit. And the Atlantic Ocean has allowed me to maintain my dignity by not knocking me down or removing my swimwear during my summer visits. But, the water may be still, but it is running deep. I have a toilet that refuses to be fixed, and will run water incessantly if not closely monitored. The way the little chain manages to knot itself up, despite numerous adjustments, points to more at work than faulty parts. Which brings me to this week's adventure, in which two elements conspired against me, water AND fire — or at least smoke.

In preparation for a seminar in NYC, I threw in a load of laundry that included just about every seminar-suitable piece of clothing I own. I also included the only jeans that fit me comfortably. Basically, I left out formal wear, outfits that require panty hose, and sweats. As the washer filled up, I filled the teakettle (with what else, water). When the teakettle whistled I came back into the kitchen and noticed an odd smell. The air seemed to have a lot of teakettle steam in it. As I poured the water into the tea cup, I realized that the smell was more smoky than steamy, that it was getting worse and that the washer had stopped. As soon as I got near the washer, I realized the smokey stink was coming from it, and my first thought was that the motor was burning up. I tried to pull the washer out so I could pull the plug, but of course, true to the way my life goes, the washer was full of water. i turned it off, but the stink was growing and I expected to see flames behind the washer at any minute. A fireman's brigade was quickly formed to empty the water from the washer and dump it in the sink, using a bucket, a pot and some water bottles. My eyes burned and my throat hurt as we bailed and bailed until finally the washer was light enough to move. Thankfully, the plug was not hot, no wires were burning, at least on the outside of the washer. No flames were evident, and with no power, the washer cooled down. The smokey stink clung to everything in the house.

My mind flashed back to the apartment I lived in when I was 18. A basement apartment. An apartment that might not have been legal due to the insufficient plumbing. The way I learned about that was the day I came home to find sewer water spewing up out of my toilet and my kitchen sink. It was 4 inches deep in the kitchen. Luckily, at that time, I had a portable washer, and I spent a long evening with a bucket, dumping the water into the washer, and then putting the drain hose out the window to get rid of the fouls smelling stuff. I was able to break my lease shortly after that. Getting the smell out of my belongings took a lot longer.

Today, I hauled all the sopping wet clothes from this recent washer adventure outside and hung them to drip dry. I skipped the seminar (having nothing to wear) and began the "waiting for the repairman" ritual. While waiting, I counted all the pennies I could find to try and determine if I could replace the stackable washer and dryer if indeed the motor was fried.  It was looking more and more like I would be patronizing the disgusting, expensive laundromat in town.

I greeted the repairman like a teenager meeting a pop star, and hovered nearby as he began to take apart the washer. Taking off the cover let out a last gasp of choking stink, and we both coughed. The repairman did his thing while I tried not to overwhelm him with anxious questions. Finally, his head came out from under the washer. In his hand was what looked like a giant seal from a mason jar. It was black and crunchy. It was a "belt" and it had slipped out of wherever it was supposed to be, and it had burned the only way rubber knows how to burn — by stinking up the place. He replaced the belt, we ran the washer through its paces, and to my great relief, it worked fine! The specter of the laundromat faded from my brain. I could hear my checkbook actually sign with relief.

Later, as I reloaded the washer with the original load of clothes, I thought, maybe the water stuck in the washer when it stopped wasn't again the universe's damp way of compounding a problem for me. Maybe the water was there to protect me, in case the overheated belt actually did start some flames. Maybe water is finally my friend. I may have to stop torturing it in the tea kettle.

NAPOWRIMO April 16

Discoveries

this morning I found
that I could not shut off the TV with my car keys
lock my door with the DVD remote
turn the lights on with my cell phone
call my daughter with the calculator
or go to work without a briefcase full
of gadgets.

(C)2012 Noreen Braman

NAPOWRIMO April 15

The Poem in My Pocket

the poem in my pocket
is written on my heart
in sweeping calligraphic letters
that pulsate with my heartbeat
and flow through all my veins
in rivulets of modern verse
constant refresh of my soul.

(c)2012 Noreen Braman

April 26 is "Poem in Your Pocket Day." For me, that is everyday.

NAPOWRIMO April 14

Ambition

I'm a happier drone than most
getting to sample the rarer flowers
but some days all I can muster
is the thought that a flower is a flower
and how I'd like to buzz in the trees
or even over the water.
After all, no one told us we couldn't fly
what other impossibilities
can I attempt?

(c)2012 Noreen Braman

NAPOWRIMO April 12 and 13

Womanhood

My span of years was not spent, and my labors were not
endured, so that you could exact penance
now, in stealth while I am asleep.
others, before and behind me all have shared the
pain, through times of fruit and
ashes.
Unwilling to go gently, we grapple with your presence,
sweating and shouting in dreams full of dead relatives,
emerging at last, battle-scarred, but alive.

(c)2012 Noreen Braman

*****************************

Aftermath

The pain

remains.

(c)Noreen Braman

************

NAPOWRIMO April 8-10

Money Zombies (in 3 parts)

4-8-12

Alms

the hands of the monied
dole out sustenance in trickles
onto the tongues of the parched.

(c)2012 Noreen Braman

4-9-12

Payday

the hands of the monied
hold mortgages on the lives
of the indentured in their employ.

(c)2012 Noreen Braman

4-10-12

Corporation

the hands of the monied
joined in a communion of the undead
demand equality with the living.

(c)2012 Noreen Braman

NAPOWRIMO April 7

Birthday

reflections
in the mirror
in my mind
neither tell the whole truth,
since both are filtered
through the sieve of my life,
colored by the haze of time
and distorted by
selective vision.

(c)2012 Noreen Braman

NAPOWRIMO April 6, 2012

Good Friday

My son calls to ask if eggs are meat
I assure him he can eat eggs
on Good Friday.
Its amazing what things stick.

We question the deity
and avoid his house
except to mark milestones
with ritual rites of passage.
it is said those who study the book
come to believe in it less and less
more mythology than history, 
releasing rote acceptance,
exchanged for intense questioning
not quite ready to give up the cultural forms.
 
(c)2012 Noreen Braman

NAPOWRIMO April 5

Forum Thread

tiny letters embroider the screen
dove gray trimmed in slate blue
a pastel poetry sampler
created for the keen of sight.
No longer stitched by candlelight
by weary hands and watery eyes
still painstaking, delicate, miniscule work
whose details are more fully enjoyed
when enlarged for my view
by technology.

(c)2012 Noreen Braman

NAPOWRIMO April 4, 2012

Midlife Medical Tour

Prepare to be
poked, prodded, pricked and penetrated,
analyzed, questioned and criticized,
for too high this and too low that,
all scrupulously noted in your permanent record
right behind your high school report cards,
only this time around,
you can't ace all the tests.

(c)2012 Noreen Braman

NAPOWRIMO April 3

The Press Dial

new phones with new instructions
trying to crack into my old head
just want to set up voicemail
with a password that isn't hieroglyphics
stumped by bizarre directions
"dial *98 and the press dial." 
No such thing located anywhere.
Someone forgot to buy an "N."

(c)2012 Noreen Braman

NaPoWriMo April 2

Inheritance

if I disappear
like the Cheshire cat
evaporating into a smile
remember that I taught you to laugh.

©2012 Noreen Braman

NAPOWRIMO - National Poetry Writing Month 2012 April 1

Urban Progression

Along the tracks,

manufacturing skeletons

bleached bones of industry

rotting carcasses of business

in the graveyard of commerce,

reborn as canvas for graffiti.

©2012 Noreen Braman