Tag Archives: Week in Review

Details! Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 22 April 2018


Details, details…please don’t be bothered by them in this week’s reverse. It all sounds so gloomy and doomy, but those are just the facts, ma’am. I get it. But the bottom line? If the first 4/5ths of this weave don’t swallow you in the details, you’ll make it to my unsinkable mantra. Always the optimist, and why the hell not. We might as well make the best of it (my it, your it, the it’s, of course may, and do, vary). That is to say again, for the record, be kind, most of all to yourself. Go gently into the coming week!

Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 22 April 2018

latticed burst of crimson
I’ll write it for you in blood / worm-feed in an unmarked grave
carnage marks its path
to blame for its untimely end
flowers; withering, death
What’s left of it
red danger on display,
burning those who get too close…
cried myth
I wonder what will become of us?
far from dandy, indeed, blown to hell
nomadic, wind riders
receiving a rose
mean rain, or so you’d guess,
sometimes, when I dream
ballads, wild psychedelic trips, mania, decades
though stormy clouds may loom, life is good
it’s an odd coupling
history will prove it when less is at stake
roots planted, shallowly

~kat

A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 15 April 2018

Every Sunday I gather a line from each of the previous week’s poems. I call it a ReVerse. I like to read the finished word collage a few times and then write what I’m thinking about it in this space.

But…I was detoured today, and so, there is this…

I don’t normally notice them. The judgmental, self-righteous trolls that stare daggers through us as we go about doing the things people do, like living and breathing. Maybe it’s the swelling tide of intolerance, where it’s become the acceptable norm to shun, to hate, to refuse to serve people like us. No cake for you…we don’t do gay.

We have a Sunday morning routine. After we drop our pups at the groomers, we head to our favorite breakfast spot for coffee, omelets and pancakes. It’s a comforting way to pass the time. At least it had been, until today.

Today, after being settled into our booth, we waited…and we waited…and we waited. After 10 minutes it was hard not to suspect that we were being snubbed, especially when our server glanced our way several times, obviously, before turning away to tap into a computer screen, or to fold napkins. Was she hoping we would just leave…no hot cakes for you? It was hard not to take it personally. She got her wish. After 20 minutes we left our booth. Her back was still turned. She hardly noticed.

But we didn’t leave the building of our favorite breakfast spot. It is our lovely, weekly routine after all. We asked to speak to the manager and while we waited I watched our server as she glanced over her shoulder, peered over the rims of her glasses, and raised her eyebrows when she discovered she had won the battle. Her battle. I can only imagine her silent, “hallelujah, thank you lord!”…the victory cry of this “good and faithful servant” having received her reward for standing her hallowed ground against the likes of sinners like us. I can only imagine.

Sadly, I believe I’m not far off the mark. I have been schooled by many of these saints, that I’m headed for eternal damnation, hell, if you will, and that their great and powerful god considers me an abomination. Or at least they do, and they should know because god, their god, speaks to them. Not only that. There are verses in his book; this one and this one and that, proof that their god hates me and so, they should too.

After apologizing, the hostess offered to reseat us; to bring us coffee, to take our breakfast order herself.

I smiled, “Thank you, but not that server’s section please, any section but hers.”

We were escorted to a sunny window booth. The hostess made good on her promise, bringing us coffee and creamer, and one cup, not two. She was most apologetic, serving was definitely not her forté, and of course it was easy to overlook, because she was being so kind. She was so very kind.

The manager stopped by, as I had requested, ready to listen, I could tell.

“We come here every week,” I said. “We love this place. It’s our routine. But today we were blatantly, obviously, ignored by the server of our section; not a word of acknowledgment that we were there. For twenty minutes…”

And then I did something that I hate myself for. I started to cry. It was not a loud, attention-grabbing spectacle of a cry. My face simply flushed and my eyes welled up; a few salty droplets burned my cheeks on the way down.

I apologized of course. I don’t normally let these sorts of things get to me you know. I just wanted breakfast at my favorite spot with my partner of 18 years, coffee with two sugars and cream, a glass of cool water, and pancakes…and to chill, read the news on my phone, and wait for the groomer to call. I just wanted to breathe. But I cried, damn it! Living should not be this hard.

It would be easy to tell you the franchise name. To call for a boycott, for justice; to invite others to rise up against a business who would employ such a sad, hateful zealot. But it’s not about the place or the business. It’s not about shutting everything down that doesn’t value me or my right to be.

It’s about kindness, and the lack of it. It’s about what we are becoming. It’s about the whittling away of civility and the rise of hate, emboldened by our leaders. It’s about the pervasive lie, the worst lie of all…that there is an “us” and a “them”, that others are not to be trusted, that only some people matter.

Yes, it would be easy to lump the whole franchise, or people, into my own personal boycott crusade, but I’d be forgetting the kindness of that hostess, and the manager, and the other servers who have been lovely to us on previous visits, and the one who finally served us today. That would not be very kind of me.

You might be surprised to hear that I pray every day. It’s true. What do I pray for? That might surprise you too. I pray, not for comfort, or heaven on earth; not for prosperity, or to pass an exam, to live forever, or to land the perfect job. I don’t pray to be protected from others who are not like me. I pray simply that the hardness of life not harden my heart. I ask the universe to remind me, most of all, to be kind.

It’s the hardest thing to do and be, and sometimes I fail miserably. I get angry, and defensive. But mornings like this remind me why kindness matters. It’s a very big, small thing to ask, not only of others, but of myself…please be kind. Please. Be. Kind.

There is still a ReVerse in the wings. I will let it speak for itself this week.

Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 15 April 2018

spring is in flux, bitter
on moonless nights, the veil
the flicker of a new thought
of a single wick consumed
breathing is overrated
a few lone travelers that no one would miss, to save civilization
this very moment I’ll take a stand
one last hurrah, dark night at the gate
much too busy surviving
‘cause all work and no play is a chore
let’s rollick instead, for spite
prickly, pale petal pins
then suspended, in fact,
pause with me a spell
shy and sweet
there’s a lovely stillness
count my blessings, count sheep, pray my soul to keep
the end never comes
might linger til mid-day, it’s my bliss
rarely do I remember my dreams
it’s true…every one sweet

~kat


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 8 April 2018

A very busy week of writing makes for a very busy ReVerse. Competing streams of thought that, at first glance, seems to make no sense at all. But they are my words, for better or for worst. Because of that, I’m not particularly bothered by the randomness of some of the lines. I see them as an interruption, which is so like life, isn’t it? One minute you’re coasting along, on time, on track, settled on the course and destination. And the next? All hell breaks loose, and you find yourself on a detour through the unfamiliar. Meanwhile, your GPS has a nervous breakdown trying to get you back on your way, as you careen further from the most direct route; sending you in circles around a now forbidden path. (True story…)

I’ve learned something about detours, having been forced to take them every now and again. Sometimes they send you to a place that opens your eyes to possibilities you might never have considered before. At the very least, detours are an unplanned inconvenience. But given the chance they can also be revelatory. When you approach them with an attitude of openness, detours can be the subtle shifts that reconnect you to yourself, rescuing you from the trenches that are burying you. Some detours can change you, and do.

Have a great week, then. I’m reminded of a favorite quote: “I never worry when I get lost…I just change where I want to go.”

Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 8 April 2018

hint of spice on the breeze, birds in tryst
a cup of tea, a purring cat,
amidst frost’s icy sting, reverie
savor every sweet bite / eat the last cookie
just pressing your luck
Don’t ask!
white, wispy flecks blow
that’s not the word you think you heard…
vagabonds in dapper hues
early signs looked promising
settling, like the dust collecting
bent from a blust’ry breeze
chiseled legends in stone
as I watch them, I sigh from below
You remind me of someone I would very much like to know…
if you need to ask…
crazy…like a fox
don’t stir
dust, pollen, budding trees,
sometimes my mind drifts
that little girl, jaded
and long, lazy hours spent sleeping
sweetness on the breeze
when love is always
crushed beneath
a hint of eternity

~kat

A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 1 April 2018


My, my, but I was busy this past week. Spring is in the air and I am positively thrilled with, and inspired by, the sights, sounds and sweet scent of life in bloom!

Today is Easter Day for some as well as April 1st, a day to fool or be fooled. The sun rose this morning in the afterglow of this year’s second full, blue moon. Today a good day…a very good day to be alive. The air is electric; charged with new life. Even grey skies and April showers cannot dampen my joie de vivre! So…Happy Day of Celebration then…whatever the holiday! Have dessert before dinner, nap as long as you please, laugh until your sides ache…breathe…it is ever so good to be!

Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 1 April 2018

shadows long, sun shaded,
sweet petal spray
maybe next time
we’ll miss cold come summer
where infinity and magic
restless sleep, pale moonlight
perched above in mourning
we got along just fine, I think.
everything would work out for the best
play for pay
spring’s fragrant, first breath
azure splashed, dappled grey,
ink collecting in the creases….
what secrets linger
sunrise sunset
we swoon, like sea tides do
rush toward the flame | i embrace it like a fool
it is life, running over, raw honey on my tongue
sometimes I think I can hear you thinking

~kat

A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 25 March 2018

It’s been a wild week weather-wise. Springlike warm, cold grey, snowing, blossom laden trees, bent to breaking, forced resignations, faux news-hack hirings, stolen elections, widget tariffs, market crashes, reality show drama, porn stars, playboy bunnies, temper tantrums, vetoes, kids in the streets acting like adults, adults checked out, on recess, golfing, Lenten vespers swelling, alms of palm, stormy weather looming…blue skies dazzling, melting snow.

It’s been a crazy week for the weather. But spring is coming! It’s just a matter of time, they tell us…just a matter of time.

Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 25 March 2018

seems odd, quite out of place
springtime’s first dazzling sight
magic is in the air
Are you kidding me?!
just one more minute’s snooze
equal parts luck and timing
lost hope and pipe dreams collect
the edge of lunacy
calendars say it’s spring
my favorite place…
weighed down, bent to breaking
the treasure was long gone
don’t say I didn’t warn ya’
the orange fool went mad
assimilation
beautiful roses
they’ve no place called home
diversity’s extolled,
clouds of grey, muted light
a thousand whispers
night lingering

~kat

A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


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