The Painting Underneath

We only see
the surface painting,
often brightly artificial.
But a deep scratch reveals
the darker painting
underneath.
I am not brave enough
to have that surface
paint removed.
I am afraid I can not
face the realism
below the impressionism,
the unretouched photo
of my inner self
with all its
wrinkles and blemishes,
with all its
scars and stains;
I do not like
that painting underneath.

Lori Fiechter
August 27, 2001

The Orderly Ones

Some people thrive
when they can bring
order to disorder.
My type is a boon to theirs:
we give them plenty
of opportunities
to feel useful.

Lori Fiechter
August 25, 2001

"I would never do that! Thank goodness, I'm not like her!" We don't say it, but the thought sometimes flits through our minds. Just picture that Pharisee and publican; that usually shakes me out of my smugness.

I've lost my train of thought,
engine, cars, caboose.
But my thoughts do not
come in trains anyway,
they are not orderly,
connected in logical order.

My thoughts are sporadic,
sprayed all over my cerebral
cortex like errant buckshot.
But, what was I saying?
I've lost my trains of thought.

Lori Fiechter
9-09-01

Even the Unblue Sky

I like windows.
Windows invite us to gaze out
There is the same sky for us all;
No matter how squalid our room;
No matter how small our window.
Windows are an out
When we are trapped in.

How lovely the sky;
how changeable and yet changeless.
How lovely the blue sky,
Yes, even the unblue sky.
Even the unblue sky.

Lori Fiechter
8-3-01

Soul Windows

His eyes had
a very nice smile.
Teeth have no soul,
Not the whitest of them.
Teeth smile cold
without the eyes to match them.

Lori Fiechter
8-8-01

I never read the book, but I loved the title,
When Momma Ain't Happy, Ain't Nobody Happy!

Flashing, Stormy,
Dewy, Clouded,
Steely, Cold,
Sunny, Unsettled.

For today's forecast--
Gloomy? Sunny?
Check my eyes!

(then, Hide!)

Lori Fiechter
8-8-01

I woke up thinking of my great Aunt Bessie’s room—I saw the furniture, smelled the fancy "toilet water". I can’t remember when I saw that room, when I saw that house for the very last time.

Last Time Ever

First times take a step
into roaring traffic;
they demand attention.
Last times are but
reflections in your
rear-view mirror,
seen only as last times
in retrospect:
sometimes vivid,
sometimes vapor.
"growing up" last times
"growing old" last times
"moving on" last times;
Not always tinged with
sadness, but often with nostalgia.
Last times marking
another rite of passage.

Lori Fiechter
July 21, 2001

Fuzz Words

Sloppy definitions and
fuzzy words spawn
false assumptions
and misunderstandings.
What do you mean by
"soon" or "trouble" or "estimate"?
locations, directions, instructions:
clean-shaven to his mind,
all stubbly to mine.
His expression: exasperation.
Mine: white blank.

Lori Fiechter
July 21, 2001

One Bowl of Tomatoes

What can I do with
one bowl of tomatoes,
Too many to eat,
too scanty to can?
Almost dead-ripe,
just four days from rotten,
they sit on my counter,
with their red, bulbous cheeks,
they sit on my counter,
an odd centerpiece.
What would you do
with one bowl of tomatoes?
I have enough recipes
to last me for weeks
but I’m the only one here
who’ll eat the results.

Lori Fiechter
July 21, 2001

And not just in my garden. The ones in my character have tenacious roots.

Weeds I Won’t See

My husband’s the gardener,
the weeder and waterer.
I dabble in flowers,
in ground cherries and cukes.
He tends to his row crops
and when they are perfect,
he brings his hoe
over to mine.
Chief Weed inspector
pulls several large specimens;
I protest, "I weed the bed one time a week".
He says nothing, but points to a pile
on the ground:
a pile of three-week old weeds.
So, I missed one or two;
there are weeds I don’t see,
or weeds I won’t see;
Not even when others
gently show them to me.

Lori Fiechter
July 21, 2001

We must be well-known in the feline neighborhood as a half-way house for pregnant cats. We’ve had four stop by in the past year. Stopping by to stay.

All the Pregnant Strays

All the pregnant strays
wend their pregnant way,
suitcase in one paw,
labeled, "extended stay".
Litters on our doorstep,
in the bushes,
in the shed.
When I find their map
that marks our home,
I’ll "X" your place instead.

p.s. the kittens are cute.

Lori Fiechter
July 21, 2001

Life is never quite what I'd expected, not at any stage.

Imagination, Meet Reality

I read the book,
I thought it through,
I saw the image,
clear and true:
Vegetables,
children,
and spouse
all neatly in line.
My preview was perfect,
reality was not.
But reality was far more
ah….interesting.
(and messy)

Lori Fiechter
July 20, 2001

Thinking Ahead

I ate my breakfast
the night before,
got dressed
before I showered,
I always like to plan ahead;
Perhaps I ought to think, instead.

Lori Fiechter
July 20, 2001

There's a fly in my quiet time

Distractions.
What do you do with distractions--
ignore them?
put up with them?
befriend them?
embrace them?
I swat them.
well, I try to.
Then, I swat them again.

Lori Fiechter
May 15, 2001

Lip Service

(Matthew 21:30)

Words.
No actions
More words.
Still no actions
Mere lip service
is not service at all.
"I go, sir"
Well, then,
Go!

Lori Fiechter
April 12, 2001

I remember a folk song  ("Big yellow taxi" by Joni Mitchell) popular when I was young with these catchy lines:

"Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone; they take away the trees and put up a parking lot". You don’t appreciate what you have until it is taken away. That is true of more than just trees.

Tombstones Can’t Smell

Why do we wait
until they are gone
to tell them how highly
we thought of them?
We give them praise
they can’t hear,
flowers they can’t smell,
expressions of gratitude
they can no longer feel.
Cards they can’t read,
monuments they can’t see;
No, we don’t miss the tree
until we see
the hole that remains
when it’s gone.

Lori Fiechter
April 13, 2001

How often I foist unwanted books and opinions (herbal teabags and my home-ground wheat flour) on people, thinking, "Try this, you’ll like it because I did." When will I learn that God has made each one of us unique individuals, not clones? When can I learn to respect other people’s opinions and try a more tactful way of expressing disagreement? (That is, instead of "I think you are whacked-out crazy!")

By the way, most of this poem is pure fiction. I tried seaweed once, cold, on a Chinese buffet. It tasted just exactly as it smelled. Of course, anything so nasty must be extraordinarily nutritious. It’s one of those Murphy’s Axioms.

You Should, Too

If it’s right for me,
then it’s right for you.
We had four kids,
So should you.
They must be breast-fed
till they’re two
And only served organic food.
I pray at 6AM and noon,
while facing East,
from the dining room,
I read these books
and play these tunes,
These are the charities I choose
I lost ten pounds eating seaweed stew
and I think that you should, too.
Since my preferences are preferable
and my convictions tried and true,
I’ll save a lot of work for you,
I’ve done the thinking all for you
just remember,
whatever I say or do,
You should, too.

Lori Fiechter
April 6, 2001

Dirty Windows

Dirty windows
distort the view,
Besmirch the beauty,
dull the colors.
How often do we
look at life
through dirty windows
instead of
going outside
to view
unscreened reality?

Lori Fiechter
March 22, 2001

Tired of Feeling Sad

Tired, heavy
sad and slow
listless, dragging,
sinking low;
I feebly try
to run and climb
but the hill is
like a mountain.
I am so tired
of feeling sad
but powerless
to feel otherwise;
at least,
for very long.
The sadness is too deep,
too thick;
it trickles up
and I sink down.

Lori Fiechter
March 28, 2001

Like a Road

I figured life was like a road:
winding, bending, stretching on.
I figured there’d be
bumps and chuckholes,
with side ditches full of
weeds and thistles
(but also wildflowers).
I didn’t figure on the chasm.
I never thought the road
would fall away and disappear
into a gaping, black abyss;
or that the chasm:
dark, unknown,
was not the end.
I never dreamed that I
could crawl back up the other side,
scarred, but more resilient, wise,
to pick up the road again.
On that road were fellow travelers,
others who survived.
I read the
lessons of the chasm
in their eyes.

Lori Fiechter
March 15, 2001

No Instant Healing

Why does it have to
take so long
for wounds to heal
and mend?
And why can’t I feel
all better right away?
There is no instant healing
and perhaps it’s just as well.
If we’ve only scratched the surface,
if our wound is in the flesh,
then a bandage may be all we need.
But we often heal from inside out
The deepest wounds
can be cleansed,
But it takes some time
to tell.

Lori Fiechter
March 5, 2001

Vulnerable

I was reading that Francis Bacon quote: "Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested...some books also may be read by deputy, and extracts made of them by others." All that talk about eating books made me wonder how many undigested words I have causing me brain-ache.

Undigested Words

My brain is full of
undigested
words and sentences,
of half-chewed thoughts
and ideas swallowed whole.
I am unsure if the fault lies
with the food
or my digestion.
I’m somewhere in that stage
‘twixt baby food
and well-aged jerky.
I have the teeth,
but not the patience
to chew and chew
and chew.

Lori Fiechter
March 8, 2001

Like a Book

Life is like a good book
that I am loath to finish,
or else a dreary, bad one
I fear will never end.
Part mystery, part comedy
with elements of tragedy;
but mostly
it’s monotony:
prosaic, dull, monotony;
Not really drama,
not quite farce,
with just enough
surprises
to keep one reading.

Those who don't know how to weep with their whole heart,
don't know how to laugh either.--Golda Meir