Another poem by Adrien Helm

 

Adrien Helm, second from left, summer 2022

September 16, 1991 – 6:45 a.m.

 

Sun warms the window glass,

The table’s butterscotch expanse,

Falling across placemats with

Indifferent grace.

 

The pitcher of milk, orange juice

Wait be-dewed. Spoons

Bowls, cereal, fruit ranked

In silence.

 

The coffee maker’s steady drip

Overwhelmed by thumping

Clumping shod feet thundering

Down the back stairs.

 

Bodies hurtle to the table

Arms jostling, hands reaching,

Sudden cacophony of hasty

Childish bickering.

 

Moments later schedules re-checked,

Packs collected, kisses delivered,

Screen door slams, the Sun resumes

It’s quiet business. 

 

            AWH @ July 12, 2023

Two responses to a prompt for rhyming couplets!

Adrien Helm

 

Salty Dog

 

She said “write some rhymed couplets,” didn’t she?

Couplets, just two brief lines, but aren’t we free

 

To lap them over spilling to the next

Like an overfull line bursting with text.

 

They won’t by result lose their couplet-ness

Just run expanding and stretching, I guess.

 

So these unruly lines are galloping --

Like a rough sea-borne shallop scalloping,

 

I have some grave doubts about this frail boat’s

Seaworthiness—will it still stay afloat

 

With only steady windy syllables

To carry it landward, sails fillable?

 

It seems right now a task too great for me,

Destined to leave me in irons at sea.

 

Sailors, take heart, I’ll soon quit this barque,

Ruing not one bit mixed metaphor’s bite!

 

              AWH@ June 27, 2023

***

Rhubarb, a true friend and free

 

Rhubarb is rhubarbe in French, soft with its final B.
Rhubarbe is rhubarb is just that, sans rivalry  

with rhubarb is rhubarbe … a rose, 
but who would dare to oppose

whatever finish you choose
in this business of rhubarb, its use.

That old Stein-line, let it loose
(or not, if she’s still a muse)

however often it’s arisen,
this of a rose and what it isn’t.

Rhubarb is sour but not bitter.
Sweeten it up, nothing’s better,

especially if you’ve no citronnier
(lemon tree, ends with the sound of long A.)

 

                                Sylvia Manning

                                06-27-23, Glover VT