This is the final post in the My Name scavenger hunt – Write The Anna or a Dr. Stella poem. I chose The Anna. Which was created by James Gray in honor of the poet and news columnist Anna Nash. This form is an unrhymed 7 line form with a strict meter requirement and uses the theme of love.
The Anna is a hepastitch poem in seven lines. Iambic pattern:
Before she could stop herself, she opened the casket. Inside a black corpse, probably at least two hundred years old. She looked at the only bright thing inside, a huge ruby necklace pendant, just spread across mold covered bones. She hesitated and then grabbed it quickly, the action sending a shiver up her spine. She shook off the sudden tremor and shut the coffin lid.
It was disgusting, reprehensible, but if the legend was true, this gem would rejuvenate her lover. Second thoughts as to why it was actually on a dead corpse seemed to drift away as she stuffed it in the pocket of her jacket. “I told him I would try anything to save him and if this works, we can both be happy again”. This was her excuse for such a disrespectful act.
Returning to their home, she cleaned the ruby to it’s original luster, replaced the chain with a leather string, and placed it around his neck, then sat by the bed.
Later that evening, her lover actually sat up in bed and asked for water. She was elated and rushed to the kitchen. She didn’t seem to notice him coming up behind her. She felt the sharp sting and then they both were rejuvenated for eternity.
Thursday, probably my least loved weekday, well maybe Tuesday…weather changing so it’s an early cloudy cool atmosphere which makes staying under the covers a little longer very inviting. Then the idea of a warm latte crosses my mind and I’m up! The brain automatically showers, dresses, and makes coffee and then after a sip or two, I start to read, hoping some clever comment will rise to the surface. This rarity brings awareness and now I’m fully awake.
Follow me, see the beauty, autumn is here again slate colored rocks draped in velvet green moss, soft contrast to crunchy leaves brilliant pied paintings by nature, beckoning forest adventures
It was getting too chilly to just sit there any longer, but he had bundled up. If he saw her walk by again it would be worth it. And she would, he just felt it in his bones, the now cold brittle bones. He’d only seen his daughter twice, first being born and then yesterday, at the age of twenty.
The New York skyline beckoned her, but it was the compelling feeling to visit the September 11th memorial that made her go. So many people lost. How can a structure hold the lives and memories of such hateful acts? She went, although tears flowed, as did many from others also visiting the site.
The Bag Lady 
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