All posts by ruth ann scanzillo

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About ruth ann scanzillo

Professional 'cellist/pianist, private Suzuki string instructor; ....former public school music teacher/childrens' drama coach; .... [ serious ] avocational writer.........background in graphic design/illustration.....influences: Lance Morrow; Garrison Keillor; Peggy Noonan; Erma Bombeck; James Kavanaugh; Billy Collins; Leonard Cohen; and, Alice Munro. Local eccentric, social loner, overdriven imaginator, speculator, and wisening woman. Thank you for reading. And, thank you, WordPress, for the whole thing.

Just Say Nothing.

Deep Thoughts, grief, psychology, relationships, sociology, Uncategorized

She had to blame something.

For sanity.

Nobody wanted her to find any happiness at the expense of the loss of their proprietary claims.

No mother, sister, old friend, ex girlfriend wanted her to take or get or receive or even be offered what was theirs to protect. How did anyone ever reach the conclusion that she was any kind of threat? How did she get labeled toxic? What was wrong with those who clustered in corners, conniving to exact pain upon her?

Was it the men, appealing to their women for advice? And, if so, why? Did she have too much testosterone? Was it because she wasn’t young, anymore? Was it because she spoke her mind? How could she not communicate how much she needed somebody, when she did? How could she fail, so completely, in this?

Was it the gifts? Did she have too many? Was she expected to accept her lot, and find fulfillment without being loved? Who knew what love was, except to say that having a need unmet was its absence?

There was so much more left, of life. She could inhabit her body for thirty more years. What would the response be, to her presence? Would she be wanted, in the room?

Action produced reaction. This was unavoidable, like every other law of physics. Move, and cause motion; speak, and generate word.

Best to remain still, and say nothing.

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Copyright 8/18/22 Ruth Ann Scanzillo. All rights reserved. No copying, pasting, stealing, pilfering, translating, or profiting. Go be your normal self.

littlebarefeetblog.com

The Deal Breaker.

light verse, original poetry, Uncategorized

There was a young man on the phone

Who, tired of feeling alone

Himself, he invited

To see her, excited

To let her disclose the unknown

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In person, they side eyed and skirted

Their senses, all highly alerted

Would he make a move?

Would they find a groove?

[ Both would have rather they’d flirted. ]

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The next day, his silence was stark

Up the wrong tree did he bark?

Was it maybe her nose?

Or, rather, her toes?

Her atoms? an aberrant quark?

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Whatever the reason, he balked

Though for six weeks, at least, they had talked

A foreplay of words

An affair for two nerds

Now, away from the woman he walked.

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No matter the timbre or tone

Breathy alto, or bass-baritone

Favor fun, as you must

Savor fellowship, too, just

Don’t fall in love on the phone.

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Copyright 8/16/22 Ruth Ann Scanzillo All rights those of the author, whose name appears above this line. No copying, in whole, part, or via translation, permitted. Thank you for respecting original material.

littlebarefeetblog.com