April was inaugurated by the Academy of American Poets in 1996 as National Poetry Month.  It’s a time when publishers, booksellers, literary organizations, libraries, schools and poets around the country celebrate and honor poetry, reminding us all of its vital place in our history and in our culture and to our future.  See http://www.poets.org for more information on ways to celebrate the month – my favorite is Poem In Your Pocket Day, April 26th.

The writers at The Last Sunday Writers celebrate with a month of poetry…

THE PROSE POEM AS APPLICATION FORM

By Mary Rose Betten
                                           

I am seventy-six years of age, newly divorced after 41 years of marriage and a retired Member of 53 years as an actress with The Screen Actors Guild. I am applying for the Position you advertised as a receptionist. I am good with people on the phone and in Person, but prefer not to use a computer. I can bring  my own portable typewriter.  As an applicant I have signed many leases as an occupant and currently live a full life in a one bedroom apartment and can offer you much experience also as a pedestrian, Able to cross the street within  the space  of time required while the light is green.   As a shopper I have been commended for my ability to recall my pen number by memory and swiftly swipe my card on the first try,  I only require glasses  to sign my name.  A good driver I boast only two speeding tickets thus far this year and those were limited to the same thing of going 80 on the freeway, I have no offenses driving within the city limits. As a passenger I require no assistance getting in and out of an automobile and as an active parishioner I volunteer to arrive early to unlock the side door to the church to enable the disabled to enter.  My Pastor is proud to write a reference should you be Interested in my auditioning as your employee to be considered as your  receptionist.

Desire (43)

by Laura Beasley

I’m lost and cannot find my way back home.
A princess who can’t sit upon her throne
I need to be swept up and carried there,
To live a life that’s just and kind and fair.

My needs will be scaled back for just today.
Another game of Mother If I May.
Decisions careful will grant me some peace.
For now, my fears for days to come can cease.

The care I crave must come from only me.
I know exactly what I want, you see.
I need to pull back, help myself emerge.
Protect myself, remembering this urge

And when I feel the need to scream and yell,
My pen is where my story I can tell.