Lox and Bagels for Brunch

By
Erica Abbott 
aka Erica Chesler

 50 poems
by a housewife out to brunch

After completing my first poetry book, "Pancakes and Coffee Breaks," I had a few poems left over that were either half written, or just in concept form and these were the start of my second book. All these poems were inspired by observations of everyday life. Some are serious, some are reflective and some are humorous.

With encouragement from my husband, Sandy and lots of friends, who had read the first book, I started writing, and writing and writing. I never cease to be amazed at how much time it takes to write a short poem. Sometimes I revised them ten times.

I want to acknowledge Mary Oliver for her book "A Poetry Handbook" and Natalie Goldberg for her book, "Writing Down the Bones." These books on writing were not only an inspiration but very instructive also.

I hope you enjoy reading my second book as much as my husband and I enjoyed creating it.

I do have one small favor to ask everyone.
Sandy tells me there is a bit of a hurdle to jump over before Amazon will promote a new book.  What is required is for at least ten people to buy a copy and then write a review on Amazon.  Amazon measures the potential success of a book by the number of sales and reviews.  Once ten people write a review, Amazon will automatically start promoting the book and things will go viral.  As Amazon promotes it, more people buy it and then Amazon promotes it even more ... etc. etc.  The more reviews the book gets the more Amazon will promote it.  

I have a few videos of me reading my poems.  Be sure to have a look.  They are with the sample poems below.

Thanks again,

Erica

My husband and I walked to the beach nearby to enjoy an evening sunset. When we got there the clouds grew darker and we noticed there was no-one else around. There was a rumble in the distance, and it started to rain out at sea.

We sat on the bench waiting for the sunset to appear but suddenly a lightning bolt struck nearby. Then it started to rain.

"Oh my, it's time to go, we are caught in a Florida thunderstorm!" 

Our evening walk had suddenly turned into a desperate dash for home.  We sprinted with our shoes splashing in puddles that were not there moments before. We tried to outrun the deluge, but it was obviously no use as the rain came down in sheets and our clothes became totally drenched.

A bolt of lightning struck a nearby tree. I cringed in fright as the flash nearby was very bright.  The thunder roared loud like a fighter jet and my husband grabbed my soaking wet hand and said, "It's too dangerous to go home now!" Then he pulled me into an open garage that was luckily close by.

Safely under cover his smile calmed me down, even as the lightning continued to strike all around.  For five minutes I clung to him in great fear and the rain, like a furious waterfall, continued roaring down.

At last, there was a pause in the thunder and lightning. We exchanged a knowing look and started running home quickly through the lingering storm.

With very wet clothes clinging to our skin, we arrived home panting from our desperate run. Our walk to the beach had not been much fun.

We opened the door and dripped all over the floor. We both knew we needed a drink after this harrowing storm.

I try not to think of that night because it gave me such a terrible fright.  They say that soldiers under fire become best mates forever.  I know that night brought us even closer together.

Saturday night, disco's packed tight,
fluorescent lights flashing red, blue and white!
Couples jiving, more arriving,
girl's turning, boys admiring,
all singing to Elvis's wailing and crooning, Blue Suede Shoes.

Blaring music peaks and dips and girls all shaking lovely hips;
stiff petticoats swinging round, feet sometimes touching ground.
Colored bows, pointed toes, ponytails, ribbons, everything flows; the room's rocking, everyone’s grooving and moving,
tapping their feet to the rhythm of the beat!

Now, it's time for a drink.
Everyone takes five.
Most go out for a smoke and some evening air.

The room goes quiet because there's nobody there.

After a while, everyone wanders back.
Lights are lower, the music is slower.
Elvis's baritone voice is singing Love Me Tender.

In the darkness couples kissing, just shadows barely moving.

Arms wrapped tightly round one another,
secretly speaking words of now and forever.

My friend, Rose, was a good-looker, tall and well-formed for only thirteen, she had the poise of a queen.

 She took out clothes one morning to catch the early bus into town, then quickly brushed hair and put on her underwear.

In front of her mirror, she stopped, looked, then stared, opened both big eyes wide, pouting and glaring, then put on her pink lipstick and purple mascara.  She worked on her looks for more than an hour.

The old grandfather clock chimed the hour of nine.
She thought out loud, "Oh dear, my bus must be near, it's panic time!"

Rose snatched her purse and bolted out the door, took a short cut over the fence, ran fast, then somehow managed to jump onto the bus just before it went past!

As she was paying her fare the driver gave her such a strange stare.  She sat down and the lady next to her leaned over and whispered in her ear, "It appears you’ve forgotten something very important, my dear."

Rose looked down at her dress, which wasn't actually there. 
"Oh, my goodness, I only have on my underwear!"

It appears we are stuck here in the present, somewhere between the past and future, where the only thing certain in this world is what each one of us can feel, hear, taste, smell and see, like land, grass, ocean, a bird, or a tree.

This morning, while sitting under the awning, drinking my hot coffee and enjoying its rich aroma, I listened to the bluebirds calling.  

It was then I felt the strong presence of my creator, so real to me.  And I had this thought, “How else could such a delicious cup of coffee come to be?”

“Is the dishwasher dirty or clean?”  

This is the question we ask every day.

Our friend who we call the “Hungry Monster” is always ready to chew up a scrap or two, as you probably know.

With everyone loading dishes all day long he patiently waits for someone to come along and switch him ON.  Then we hear the hungry monster hum his cleaning song.

Later in the day confusion usually does arise, because we never know if the hungry monster actually got turned on.

A family discussion quickly ensues with many explanations and accusations passed around; everybody gets very confused and there's doubts and shouts and the whole family gets the blues.

I take charge, lean over and have a closer look while everyone impatiently waits for my final verdict.  I stand up and announce,
“Most of the dishes are clean, but I unfortunately found some greasy plates way at the back.”

Then our hungry monster is turned ON again and the meeting is adjourned, until tomorrow at the same time.

Drums beating, feet stamping,
beautiful, black bodies moving,
all singing while clapping and dancing.
There’s no doubt it will be perpetually happening.

Cold ocean west, warm ocean east.
They meet at the southernmost point of the African coast,
a must for everyone to see.

I recall it like yesterday.  I took the cable car up to the top of Table Mountain where I could see both blue oceans and their pristine white sandy beaches spread all around me.  Feeling happy and free, I felt honored to be a daughter of South Africa.

Today, I am married to a Yank and live in the States.

Yet, the vibrant music of Africa is always in my mind, reminding me of my wonderful life in South Africa and like a mother, keeps calling me to come home.

The cool times of 1957

When Elvis, the king, arrived on the scene us teens started wearing tees and blue jeans.  This was the beginning of the baby boomer's generation.

We had a dance every Saturday night.
Few girls and boys all aged eleven, hanging out in 1957.  
A vinyl record was playing when I arrived. 
I found a partner and started to jive.
Dancing and grooving for hours at a spell,
rocking and rolling to Elvis singing Heartbreak Hotel.   

Stopping only for popcorn and Sprite we all took five,
then back again hopping and bopping till nearly midnight.

When the music got slower and the lights dimmed down lower, we drew closer and stole a kiss or two.

I would just love to live 1957 all over again!

With my scratching and bleating, I quickly learned to get attention from my mother who was always nearby. I soon grew stronger, a puppy, weak and wriggling no longer.  Life was so much fun. Many friendly scuffles with all my sisters and brothers.

Then one special day my life suddenly changed.

A human child with red hair like mine picked me up off the ground.  She cuddled me close and carried me out the door to my new home.  She named me Sunny, which I thought was kinda funny!

We have loved each other ever since that special day.

Now that I've grown up, I know my job is to protect my very best friend, Malaya.

I'm wondering if it is age-related that I tend to forget things more and more.

I knew a chap who it seems could remember hundreds of jokes, and whenever he told them he would get lots of laughs and even some tears.  I loved hearing all his jokes over the years, but now when I need to tell a joke I can’t seem to recall the punch line.

I bet you can’t remember who attended your twenty first celebration?  But I`m sure you can recall your own high school graduation!

I can still recite a poem I learned when I was just eight, but I cannot recall when I last saw my good friend Kate!

Over the years my husband has been telling me the same jokes again and again.  I used to be annoyed.  But now as I'm getting older, I can't remember any of his silly jokes, so I laugh at them every time.

It's midnight and I’m lying in bed, still half awake, reflecting on the long, heavy downpours we've been getting and wondering if it's still raining. Curious, I move my warm body onto my knees then lift the blind.

A steady downpour of rain is still falling from a very dark sky, evidently not in any hurry to stop. The road outside has disappeared. Instead, it's a rushing river, as loud as a stampede of wild horses galloping by.

Shivering, I crawl back into bed and put my cold feet onto my hubby's warm legs. He groans as I pull our warm blankets up over my head.

In the morning, I wake to the chime of the old grandfather clock.  Goodness! What a shock, it's now eleven o'clock!

I wake up my hubby and tell him the time. We look at each other then jump out of bed.  We open the blind and we see a big, blue sky and a warm sun shining down on us.  We simultaneously say,