My Grandmas Ride Their Blue And Gold Tandem Bike And Other Poems

By Leigh-Anne Burley

My Grandmas Ride Their Blue and Gold Tandem Bike

My grandmas ride their blue and gold tandem bike and take us grandkids for Saturday picnics in the park. Collecting figurines from Red Rose tea boxes and trading IGA green stamps for dishes is their interest.. These lovely ladies enjoy neighborhood lilac-scented tea parties with a la carte pastries while catching up on the latest gossip. Their homes are a place for hosting card games and knitting hats, mitts, and scarves for their four grandchildren. Every day is assigned a specific task:

clean on Mondays
wash on Tuesdays 
iron on Wednesdays
bake on Thursdays 
cook on Fridays
fun on Saturdays 
church on Sundays. 

My grandmas give the best hugs that smell like warm apple pie and rose water. I love my grandmas and they love me too.

Anticipating Family Fishing Trips

I am always apprehensive about joining my siblings on our annual fishing trips as they bring up unpleasant childhood memories. I feel drained when my sister and brothers rehash old grievances. Even though I feel relieved after the trip, they carry the burden of their negative experiences.

I had a dream that when my siblings took a nap during a Christmas family gathering, I carefully removed the infected fish hooks from their swollen cheeks. I then washed away the bitter taste of unforgiveness with purified water.  Now, our future catch-and-release fishing trips will be a healing experience for all of us.

Dealing with a Stubborn Stain

Even after using the most potent stain remover available, the stubborn spot wouldn't budge. Instead, it kept rearing an ugly head like a persistent weed growing through a sidewalk crack, haunting me even on vacation as its stinky presence lingered. I tried to ignore the ever-present spot but couldn't shake my feeling of guilt. I attempted to escape it, but my conscience kept nagging me with justifications sandwiched between my excuses and denials. Shards of guilt swelled up like yeast and pierced holes in my gut, leaving me drained. Trapped, I came to terms with my transgression and confronted the stain head-on.

The Banker and the Painter

A bank president, Harold, admiring himself in the mirror, thinks a painting of himself would be splendid. He commissions a prominent portrait painter. Later, Harold carefully carries his picture wrapped in brown paper tied with a white string home to unveil the masterpiece in front of his family. However, his excitement turns to dismay when he sees his face is blank. Secretly, his family knows it’s his exact likeness. 

Harold thrusts the picture at the painter, “What’s this?”

“You.”

“It’s nobody.”

“I paint what I see.” The painter hands Harold a box of colored pencils. “Return with texture, and I’ll draw some preliminary sketches.”

The Story of God and His Flowers

Before anything existed, God had a jolly day thinking up a flower and the various types he could bring to life. He had even more fun visualizing the palette of colors, smelling the perfumes he could use, and how his dazzling beauties would delight our hungry eyes and noses. It was a perfect day for God, and he went to bed early, eager to plant dreams in their regal heads.  

Beware of the Grinning Leviathan

The coal-eyed Leviathan emerges from cesspools and rocks on backyard swings while methodically stretching his jaws. He patiently waits for unsuspecting children to come and play, then snatches their tender innocence—the ravenous Leviathan with pockets stuffed with trophies slithers into caverns. He smacks thick, red, drooling lips while devouring easy prey.

Good folks, thank God it wasn’t their child, and look the other way. The grinning Leviathan thanks the good folk for their indifference and awaits the next hunting day, rewarded with another delicious meal.

There is a Wow in the Woe and a Woe in the Wow

Sometimes, there is a wow in the woe
Tell me how this is so
I do not know.
Maybe a sprinkling of fairy dust 
into the awful, terrible moment
to right the tilt.

Sometimes, there is woe in the wow
Tell me how this is so
I do not know.
Maybe a stray shadow came across
The incredible, wonderful moment
to right the tilt.

Life is a masterful mystery.

Dismantling the Grandfather Clock

My father’s death arrests
the grandfather clock’s stale ticking.
After winters of sterile snow, 
I dismantle the three cogwheels 
their wooden teeth clutch at my fingers 
rewinding me into gears of 
generational stuffy sighs. 
I climb my father’s ivory tower, 
collapsing into lone footsteps. 

Leigh-Anne Burley is published in nonfiction, fiction, and poetry. Leigh-Anne enjoys
walking, reading, writing, knitting, and movies. Her work has appeared in Ariel Chart, Little Blue Marble, Spacesports and Spidersilk, Deccomp Jounral, Dribble Drabble Review, and Toasted Cheese.