September 24-30, 2007: Mary Ellen Talley and Margaret BrownBailey

week of September 24-30, 2007

Mary Ellen Talley and Margaret BrownBailey

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Mary Ellen Talley
METALLEYHO@aol.comu

Bio (auto)

I’ve been writing poetry forever, but now as an empty nester have time to participate in workshops and submit poems I’m a wife, mom, and grandma, have lived in Seattle, WA for 35 years and continue to work full-time as a speech-language pathologist in the Seattle Public Schools I’ve been published in Penwood Review and will soon be published in Bellowing Ark.

The following work is Copyright © 2007, and owned by Mary Ellen Talley and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Cheers, Dad

Loose teeth sink to the bottom of a bowl
at night,
and heart survives on drugs The bowels have slowed
so he brings his own bran
for breakfast
when he visits I buy prune juice
A cup of bran with milk,
two large glasses of warm water,
the prune juice
routine Two hours later
he exits the bathroom,
smiling We joke on the perils of age;
I anticipate mine
When he is long gone
Now I am pregnant;
My O.B prescribes iron bills
that prevent anemia
but bind me So they say constipation is common
I spend my pregnancy,
protein for breakfast,
fruit and cereal
with two tablespoons of bran,
one small glass of prune juice,

toast my father


The rule is

that an introduction
is never a farewell
The marks
of small anxieties
scab over
in sequels
They cordoned
off the airport
for the arrival
of the box
She is intact
on the second floor
with the lavender toothbrush
dangling from her mouth
primed to
receive the call
to announce the arrival
Cheese toast
melts under the broiler
where chili powder
sprinkles remembrance
They sealed the box
for mailing across miles
that someone might
discover the contents
were not missing.


Quest Before Flight

The airline permits
two bags
of which neither should be
over 69 combined linear inches
I am looking for a box
within such size
and when the TSA inspector
randomly searches,
it’ll be one colorful Kettler push trike
found at a garage sale,
surrounded by
size 2T and 3T like new clothing,
two loaves of pumpkin bread,
and a pullover doggie costume
with floppy ears
to be worn on October 31
by a two-year old grandson
Form follows function The first mother’s womb
oval hat box, car,
jail cell,
house, bedroom, condo,
oven, computer casing,
shoe box, closet, piano, toy box,
church, school, store, or
bathroom
I collect boxes,
head housing my brain,
chest housing my heart,
save a dozen small containers in the curio cabinet,
close fitting boxes empty as the sleep fulfilling prophesy
of memory and decoration
We find a box
at the community mammoth hardware store
unloading dock
Grandpa will bring gifts to South Carolina
although there are already too many boxes
inside this earth box
with the sky ceiling
Baggage the underbelly carries
will arrive with a red tag
circling the baggage carousel
Who will open the box,
Uncovering daylight
flap by flap?


Margaret BrownBailey
Brunjuliet@aol.com

Bio (auto)

Margaret BrownBailey is a New York Resident, who writes poetry and various genres Her poetry book “Life Is Never What You Think” debuted on Poetry Super Highway’s Great E-Book Free For All in May 2005
She’s a Contributing Writer for the Jamaicans.com Website, where she has gained notoriety with her monthly serial Margaret BrownBailey enjoys writing and utilizes her skills to create social awareness

The following work is Copyright © 2007, and owned by Margaret BrownBailey and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

The Fall

The Fall ushers in quietly and secretly,
Like a long, lost friend,
Someone we thought we’d never see again,
The cool breezes remind us of the brisk winter that lay before us,
Summer exited without a whimper or a hiss,
It just left, leaving us sun-kissed,
The Fall debuted with bright blue skies,
Variegated leaves that herald flair and style,
The hustle and bustle returns,
The lifeless city becomes rejuvenated with movement, 
A dormant Metropolis has been awakened by the crisp winds of the Fall.

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