I wrote a poem in my sleep
Each phrase, each rhyme was true
The dream was one I wished to keep
If just to prove to you
Though the power of sleep, so vast and deep
To rise and write, its worth to reap
I could not move my hands.
© 9/16/2020 Ruth Ann Scanzillo. All rights. You know the drill. Carry on.
Demon, get behind me.
Ferment yourself in slurry, and suffocate
I’ll not your foment be, nor languish
From hops or grain.
Demon, go to Hades
With your liquified lies, and dripping deceit
You deign to cloak human dignity
In dead gangrene
© 6/29/2020 Ruth Ann Scanzillo.
” The old lady sat
on her side porch stoop
With a snack and a book
in the sun
Which was low in the sky
burning hot on her calves
so the lap cloth she moved
’til it hung
Just below both her knees
shading ankles and feet
Which she tucked underneath
Then a bee smelled the ginger
‘tween thumb and finger
And, her afternoon read
was done. “
© 6/17/2020 Ruth Ann Scanzillo. p.s. Homage to “The 100 Year Old Man….” by Jonas Jonasson — a truly hilarious read.