the euclidean vector or my washing’s sigh on sunday evenings

she sits bent over her exercise book,
vector analysis, on the table between dinner remnants
and a catalog, announcing spring,

& if i had a nougat colored blouse
with cappuccino dots, i’d put it on now,
in the meantime i dress black, (anyway, i’m useless
when it comes to shopping) &

my daughter nods “why would someone pay
300 euro for this bench? vintage. you could find one
in the bulk waste & just repaint” i clear away
the dishes, “so,

what exactly do you need the vector for?”
she shoots a pic of the solution, texts it to her friend,
shows me a video on YouTube to explain,

next to the table (way too close),
hangs today’s washing, still
a little wet & crinkled on the rack, listening yawningly
to day’s end whispers– with a deep sigh
shuts the eyes & freestyle (means:
no single peg), it dreams

——& dreams–

———–& dreams–

—————-of spring


at dVerse, we’re gearing up for OpenLinkNight again…write a poem, share your verse and enjoy what everyone brings to the table


66 responses to “the euclidean vector or my washing’s sigh on sunday evenings

  1. for the title alone
    I am cheering loudly πŸ˜€

    and if you

    had a nougat colored blouse
    with cappuccino dots

    i would want to borrow it!

    and where would we be without Youtube clarifications?

    Love this slice-of-life PO claudia πŸ™‚

  2. … hmm .. waiting for spring … it’ll come, C … but I’ll probably be gone bonkers by then …why do I love this country so much?

  3. I love how you share brief vignettes of you life. While you make us part of it, the boundaries are there.
    There are shared dreams of spring as we woke to our first frost this morning! πŸ™‚

  4. “she sits bent over her exercise book,
    vector analysis, on the table between dinner remnants
    and a catalog, announcing spring…”

    Hi! Claudia…
    Thanks, once again for sharing a moment… I like how you used your poetic words to announce the season to change… too!

    “it dreams

    β€”β€”& dreams–

    ———–& dreams–

    β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”-of spring…”

    deedee πŸ™‚

  5. love the wash that is dreaming of spring…perhaps to be hung on the line in the breeze and feel free as opposed to in the house…finding vectors as well….much there stated and unstated…smiles..all wrapped up in a pretty cool moment between you and your child….nice claudia…

  6. Thank goodness there is always spring to look forward to in the midst of those moments of ordinary life. Some nice touches in this poem, Claudia.

  7. These young ones are multi-task masters. Doing vector analysis, catalogue shopping, texting and relating to you. Amazing. As is your ability to capture this personal, universal moment and your laundry’s yearning for spring. Me? I’m loving your blouse choice.

  8. Claudia, I just love how your thoughts drip, drip, drip down the page and bring reality, imagination and contemplation all together to pool at the bottom, where the reader can take a moment and ponder over the image you’ve created. You are an artist, the poetry being your canvas for the colors you mix and express. πŸ™‚ Eric

  9. The wash is making me dream too. Your description makes me feel like I was there with you, observing a mother-daughter evening. Enjoy them all.

  10. I like the snippet between you and your daughter ~ i thought the ending was creatively done, the day’s washing hang, dreaming of spring ~

  11. I dream of spring, too… and I’m also not a very good shopper. Thanks again for the interview yesterday, Claudia.

  12. Doing a lot of dreaming of spring here already… and now that you have tied laundry and spring together, I’m thinking I will like that chore just a bit more as well….

  13. that nougat coloured blouse got me too…straightaway! πŸ™‚ it’s colder than usual where I am and anything that reminds me of spring feels real good right now

  14. Once again you turn an everyday occurrence into poetic beauty. I too dream of spring. This sure helped to brighten up the dreary winter day, though. Thanks, Claudia.

  15. I love the title because people are always asking me what my blog posts MEAN.

    I like the way you make the mundane so interesting. A gift.

  16. a few more months and your dreams will come true. πŸ™‚ I like the familiarity in this poem, but I do not like the eavesdropping laundry. I like my privacy, πŸ˜‰

  17. mmm nougat cappuccino blouse. I don’t love shopping but I sure love creamy,edible-looking blouses. : ) I wish my laundry would listen rather than talk, which it tends to do like a long time friend. Your compelling title drew me in abruptly.

  18. i’m drawn to the nougat and cappuccino polka dot blouse if it’s to wear to work (internet shopping and you could have it the next day)…love the interaction with daughter here with subtleties of the mind tripping…wanting to jump ahead of time into the next season..

  19. Only you, Claudia, can make me taste the capaccino blouse, ponder the vector…and remark once again how you make the ordinary into extraordinary poetry. A lovely intimacy here.. Cheers!

  20. I’m always amazed at how smart our kids are and the tools they have. You take the ordinary life ingredients and make magic from them and… who cares about shopping. ; )

  21. I love this little insight into a moment…a casual conversation and still wet washing. It kinda made me feel warm all over it that makes sense. I love the “nougat colored blouse with cappuccino dots”. Really enjoyed this πŸ™‚

  22. As you know, Claudia, I live in the Sonora Desert where no hanging thing remains damp by day’s end. This scene from your kitchen allowed me to experience that, and so much more. Warm!

  23. I’m not going to touch the vector thing being quite challenged in that area BUT the personification of laundry is wonderful. I can just smell the fresh laundry outside in spring!

  24. “& if i had a nougat colored blouse
    with cappuccino dots, i’d put it on now,”

    Geez. Who wouldn’t?! I love just the idea of this shirt. Edible clothes. We all need ’em. You know, in case of emergency.

  25. awesome title. I totally dig the longer titles as you’ve probably guessed by now. I remember back in college, I saw this book of poetry by some hungarian poet for my world poetry class and the title translated was about 5 stanzas long, that opened my eyes to what one can accomplish using unique titling. great observations here, details too. You know, it’s funny, my mother makes comments about vintage all the time to my sister. My sister’s all into the old look stuff, and pays top end for them, my mother tells her to go into the attic and get the real thing. Nicely done Claudia. Thanks

  26. ” listening yawningly
    to day’s end whispers– with a deep sigh”

    oh, i love that!!!

    i am so envious of your ability to take part of your day and relate it poetically! one of your many talents!

    i hope the new year is off to a wonderful start for you! {dreaming of spring already? (smile)} that blouse sounds divine, by the way!


  27. i’m sighing through your writing (so good!), loving how it takes me here there & everywhere…& loving especially that bit about the washing “listening yawningly
    to day’s end whispers”…
    & the title!

  28. a lovely glimpse of your table after dinner. I can see how the catalog might distract a bit from the vectors. I love the ending!

  29. perfect pic of the current tech to solve today’s problems, with “other” problems, still with us today, clothes needing cleaning, washing, drying, sits on the rack, maybe mom and clothes both wishing for the warmth of spring πŸ˜‰ had a nice bounce to it πŸ˜‰ thanks claudia

  30. I can’t add more to what has already been said. This poem brings the reader right into the vital parts of every day. Wonderful title and before you give Arron that blouse, I’d like to borrow it. πŸ™‚