Scribes’ Tribe Scribblings

Today’s prompt is to write a “ramble poem.” That is, I want you to write a poem where you just start rambling without worrying about where you’re headed. Very interesting things can happen in these poems. And don’t worry about the interesting things, because they tend to just happen if you let yourself ramble.

While these poems can often be wordy on the early drafts, they can produce wonderful final drafts after going through a few rounds of revision (remember May is my unofficial poem revision month). Ramble poems can be made interesting by somehow rambling off and then coming back to where you began AND by rambling from point A to point Z without tying anything up completely. Plus, they’re really fun to write.

Idjit

It’s late and I should go to bed but I went to the store on the way home got all checked out and realized I didn’t have my debit card. Or any credit cards. Or my checkbook. I had 22 dollars, but that wasn’t enough.
Am I an idjit or what?
See, I’d been to the vet the other day to pick up the crazy dog and had slipped the debit and credit and even my license in case they asked for ID into my pocket to make it easier to deal with crazy dog. Didn’t want to have my purse swinging around while trying to lead her. She’s not used to the leash. She’s a good dog. ‘Cept she got bit by another dog on the butt and needed stitches and an overnight at the vet and I needed the choice of credit or debit ’cause I didn’t know how much it was going to be.
Let’s just say I used my credit card.
Anyway, they were all still in the pocket of whatever I’d been wearing then which was not what I was wearing when I went to the store. I should have gone back to the store–they said they’d put my whole cart in the cooler even until tomorrow but we live so far away a good 40 minutes and it’s after 11 and I do not feel like going back there now.
I won’t have the cheese my daughter wanted for her lunch tomorrow for the field trip. Doesn’t really matter ’cause we’re out of bread, too.
I should have gone back but I just didn’t feel like it. I will tomorrow. Oy, the price of gas. Tomorrow I’ll be driving the not-so-good-on-gas car. It’s probably not worth it to go back at all but the thought of re-shopping for all that stuff is just too much. Between the time and the gas, what makes it worth it? What makes anything worth the time and cost?
We make these judgments daily without pausing to think but there it is. The human condition of not thinking.
Now the dogs are settling in. One at my feet till she goes to look for the other so they can play. And it is even later. I’ll be tired tomorrow but I’m tired now.
Am I an idjit, or what?
–Candace

3 a.m.

I’m tired of the way the door creaks
in the middle of the night when the
heat kicks on–like how much trouble
would it be to find some oil and apply?
But I don’t get around to it like so
many other things I’ve left undone
a huge pile of tasks, it seems. I wonder
how other people do it–those with
manicured lawns and freshly dusted
homes. Do they yell at their children
constantly? Are they difficult to live
with? Do they ever have any fun?
I myself think that fun must be the
first thing to go out the door, the sacrifice
for having a place for everything and
everything in its place. Maybe this was
supposed to be a ramble, but it sounds
more like a rant–and a very bad one
at that. Just that I’d like some peace.
order. time. Without exerting the energy.
Think I’d just like to give up, wave a white
flag, and call a truce.
Surrender.
And get some sleep
if it weren’t for this damn door!
–Amy