Marshmallow

Marshmallow Memory Poem

High School French Teacher asks class,

"Any word you need translated?"

"Professeur de Madame s'il vous plaît dites-moi 

comment dire marshmallow en français?"

She looks at me strangely.

"Ask another question," is her answer.

There is a french word.

She never enjoyed the sweet

smoky taste of perfect roasted

guimauve.

Joy of beach palette fire.

Fetch near the dumpsters.

Haul hangs out of the trunk

pray Sheriff doesn't spot with

the wood bumping in the back.

Seven girls and five seat belts.

Before videos of crash dummies.

Friends protect sugar from fire.

Sparks flash to the night sky.

Chic hand me downs.

Tissue pad the bra.

Pray Valentine arrives.

There's a Saint for that.

Posse jammed in a Plymouth Valient

are Princesses in their own right

makers of finest Parisian guimauve.

Caroline Gerardo Guimauve Poem 2/15/2016 Copyright

Friend Poetry

Facebook Friends

Joan Pond sent me this short poem on Facebook.
 Below is my response.

I saw the sign on the pole.

Missing sofa--- please call.

I envisioned some grand settee,

off on a journey.

Its wooden legs

... taking it cross town.

Had it been unhappy at home?

If they'd known, would therapy have helped?

Perhaps a furniture intervention.

Psychologists would say,

re-upholstering could bolster the ego.

It's sad when furniture

suddenly goes astray.

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2011 Joan Pond

Please go to Facebook to see her photograph

"I saw the sign on the pole."

https://www.facebook.com/#!/photo.php?fbid=10150419281162645&set=p.10150419281162645&type=1

...

Photograph is different on Facebook if you want to go look at the thread

"My Sofa"

His name was Sofa

The chenille of his mane

brushes lonely and skinny.

Wishing changes life.

A basket of granny smiths arrives

early and crunchy in the morning,

he won’t run away.

 
Copyright 11/24/2011 Caroline Gerardo

 

 

Please supply your response or flash fiction and join in.