Friday, November 29, 2024" LB Sedlacek's "One Hit Wonder"

 One Hit Wonder  

The corn stands tall
a deep grass green
brown decay on top
and I lean slowly
back in the chair
soft plaid, blue-green
waiting for my favorite
songs to play on
the old black rectangle
a radio that sits
on the dresser in
my parent’s green room
the shade lighter than
the green cornfield slaughtered
in fall stalks cut
down fresh fodder for
wild geese dining in
moonlight, the walking path
borders around the cornfield
laid bare walkers, bikers
exposed to the elements
and while the field
sleeps seeds are planted
anew in spring and
the corn leaps up
lashes out at sky
relishing its deep green
its hearty cycle of
repeating a popular tune.

© 2024 LB Sedlacek

Bio: LB Sedlacek is an award winning writer and poet. Her latest poetry book is Unresponsive Sky, published by Purple Unicorn Media.  Her latest short stories book is The Renovator & Motor Addiction, published by Alien Buddha Press. She has been nominated for Best of the Net and a Pushcart Prize both in poetry. Her mystery book, The Glass River, was nominated for the Thomas Wolfe memorial prize. She also enjoys swimming and reading. 

Instagram:  @lbsedlacek

Facebook: @lbsedlacekpoet

Twitter: @lbsedlacek

http://www.lbsedlacek.com

Friday, November 15, 224: Lisa Marguerite Mora's "Afterwards the Moon"

Afterwards the Moon (when my cat died)

It was a large white disk low in the sky. It didn't glow. It was cloud color. And kind of defiant about it. I stopped walking down the slant of hill and said, wow.

What are you supposed to do with the moon? In another time, another era, maybe I would have raised my arms, or genuflected or offered something to the fact it was there, rising as it always promises to do.

Something real and solid but still ephemeral. Mysterious, because while reliable you never know when you’ll see it or where. Or what it will look like. The moon is hard to pin down.

I resumed walking, but looked for it again between the buildings. I looked. But the clouds had shifted and were darkening to blue. It was no longer there. I’ll never see it like that again, that size, that color, framed in just that way. The moon was gone. A single granule of time.

These moments as they slip by are baffling. Not designed to be held. The heat of life pressed against my chest, as I tenderly cradled its bones and fur. And then the life is gone, slips into invisibility. My eyes cannot adjust. My eyes cannot stay wide enough to take it all in.

Yet still I search the skies.

© 2024 Lisa Marguerite Mora

Bio: Lisa Marguerite Mora has been published widely including in Chiron Review, Rattle, Literary Mama, Public Poetry Series, California Quarterly, Rebelle Society, Serving House Journal, semifinalist Tom Howard Poetry Contest, First Place winner Micro Fiction for Dandelion Press. Nominated for Best of the Net and a Pushcart Prize. Her first novel is searching for a home while she writes a second.