Roberta Beary

March 18, 2024

“Two Pints” by Roberta Beary & Lew WattsPosted by

Roberta Beary & Lew Watts

TWO PINTS

fireside rug
wishing the dog
would take me
 
Six years it was, sleeping on couches. Waiting for Mam to get better. Every aunt took a turn. And every uncle.
 
earliest sketchbook
red running
off his face
 
Sounds grand. Not like at ours. No one’s touching his balls, Gramps would scream, after one too many. Granny chopping the veggies with a vengeance. We kids turned up the TV but couldn’t stop staring. At their collie, humping the loveseat. 
 
school project
the futile search
for scissors
 
Huh! Never had a dog. Had a rat once. Thought it was a boy. One of my cousins dissected it. Said it was a girl. That she could tell ’cos it didn’t cry.
 
upping the ante
after doctors and nurses …
first switchblade
 
That’s nothing. Found a photo of Da in a shoebox. Him in his uniform holding it glued to his shoulder. That little smile. A badge for marksmanship, he said. As he pointed his rifle at the boyfriend. 
 
goth makeup
blending in
the bruises
 
Bruises? You were lucky. My whole body was a bruise. And knees were always red-raw. Had to lick the driveway clean. Whenever they let me out. The only unscarred skin I saw was through a keyhole. 
 
eyeball to eyeball
the one-upmanship
of burst blood vessels
 

—from Rattle #83, Spring 2024
Tribute to Collaboration

__________

Roberta Beary & Lew Watts: “Lew and I have worked together in the past (we are co-authors, with Rich Youmans, of Haibun: A Writer’s Guide), but we have never written a haibun together. Traditionally, linked haibun involve alternating couplets of prose and haiku, where each prose sections links to but shifts away from the preceding haiku. Since we have both written extensively about our difficult childhoods, we had the idea of each of us writing alternating couplets that would escalate in gruesome absurdity; a kind of parody of ourselves. Those aficionados of Monty Python may recognize elements of their famous sketch, ‘The Four Yorkshiremen.’” (web)

Rattle Logo

February 12, 2024

“Sonnet #1: My Way” by Roberta BearyPosted by

Roberta Beary

SONNET #1: MY WAY

My husband likes to say that love is blind,
and little flaws are meant to be forgot.
This morning while washing out my thong
I checked his phone for texts, all is not fine
since I read them. Killing comes to mind.
The photos on his phone are steamy hot,
I didn’t recognize my best friend Charlotte,
all dolled up in black lace, the sex store kind.
My therapist would say forgive, move on
and I try my best but it’s not easy
although slicing up his boxers helped a bit
as did forwarding his boss those dick pix
from my husband’s phone. Love might be blind
to little flaws but not the cheating bastard kind.
 

—from Rattle #82, Winter 2023
Rattle Poetry Prize Finalist

__________

Roberta Beary: “Age 15, I stumble upon a tattered anthology called The Book of Living Verse. It becomes my talisman. Saving my life again and again. In my forties, as one version of my life ends, my mantra is—Write Every Day, No Matter What Catastrophe. Twenty years on, I don’t know if I write to save others or myself. But I know the why doesn’t matter.” (web)

Rattle Logo

January 25, 2022

“When I Read About Janis Ian I Am the Same Only Different” by Roberta BearyPosted by

Roberta Beary

WHEN I READ ABOUT JANIS IAN I AM THE SAME ONLY DIFFERENT

Smoking pot in the cafeteria with my friend Susan singing “Society’s Child” and I sing along our matching flower shirts like we’d stumbled into a field of buttercups and we’re staring at a sky of blue butterflies we don’t see the gum stuck under the table cause we’re stoned and the teachers don’t give a shit and I want to be Janis Ian strumming a guitar but today I have piano and when I get home Susan’s in the backyard crying and I sneak her into my room and her married brother bangs the front door screaming you tell my sister I’ll the beat the crap out of that guy if he ever shows up again and Susan and I hide out all afternoon playing “Society’s Child” on my big sister’s stereo careful the needle doesn’t scratch cause she’d kill me and when my sister beeps we take the steps two at a time and for once she’s nice and gives Susan a ride to her mom’s and the decades roll by and Susan and I lose track but I send her my book anyway and she calls and talks about the old days and I tell her Janis Ian says she’s done with music and writes haiku now and I am the same as I was that day in the cafeteria and different too which is hard to explain but after I find Susan’s address I pencil a paper with buttercups and three lines that say

rising from
the pebbled path
blue butterfly

—from Poets Respond
January 25, 2022

__________

Roberta Beary: “I read this week that Janis Ian is releasing her final album at age 70 and now wants to write haiku, along with a novel and short stories. My haibun is about the effect of her music when first I heard it and in the years since and how haiku can evoke those feelings.” (web)

Rattle Logo

January 12, 2022

Six Haiku by Roberta BearyPosted by

Roberta Beary

SIX HAIKU

 

broken vein
of a heart-shaped leaf 
memorial bench
 
 
 
across the great divide heron and i
 
 
 
hospital lab
an unknown cluster
of paper cranes
 
 
 
monsoon over
moss covers mother’s 
maiden name
 
 
 
season of light
the soldier hands me
a folded flag
 
 
 
bedtime cocoa 
i unfriend the ghost
of christmas past

—from Rattle #74, Winter 2021

__________

Roberta Beary: “I live in the west of Ireland where I am the longtime haibun editor for Modern Haiku. I recently collaborated on ‘One Breath: Reluctant Engagement Project,’ which pairs my haiku with artwork by families of people with disabilities.” (web)

Rattle Logo

July 17, 2017

“Lunch Break” by Roberta BearyPosted by

Roberta Beary

LUNCH BREAK

The fridge is empty. Which means someone stole my sandwich. And stuck me with this blueberry yogurt. Expiration date two weeks ago. Who stole my lunch. Or is it at home. Retrace my steps. Retrace. Did I take my lunch off the counter. I’m not sure. I was in a hurry. I set the alarm. Remember setting the alarm. Did I lock the door. I’m sure I did. I set the alarm and locked the door. My stomach is making weird noises. I’m starving. A slightly dated yogurt should be okay. Or maybe not. I might get sick. Salmonella, E.coli. I know the symptoms. Fever, diarrhea, abdominal cramps. I’m feeling queasy. It’s this yogurt staring at me. I’ll move it. Behind the baking soda. Where no one looks. If I’m not careful, this job will kill me. It really will. Kill me. I remember setting the alarm. Did I lock the door. I’m sure I did. I’m sure.

black fly 
on the cutting board 
last night’s dream

—from Rattle #56, Summer 2017
Tribute to Poets with Mental Illness

__________

Roberta Beary: “‘Nervous breakdown’ was the euphemism whispered at home when I was a child. Locked doors, routine when I was growing up, failed to hide my mother’s crying jags. I had no way then to alleviate the pain that could not be named. When my turn came, I knew what to do. Get help. It worked. No more suffering in silence. No more illnesses not to be named. When things get better—and they do get better—I write about it. So that others know they are not alone.” (web)

Rattle Logo

April 6, 2016

“Five Haiku” by Roberta BearyPosted by

Roberta Beary

FIVE HAIKU

super moon
mother goes quietly
back inside

 

 

 

funeral lilacs
my sister undoes
dad’s watch

 

 

 

worry stone
the shape of grief
worn smooth

 

 

 

after the cartwheel cumulus and i

 

 

 

carousel moving through my childhood

—from Rattle #51, Spring 2016
Tribute to Feminist Poets

__________

Roberta Beary: “As a poet I write about my experiences as a woman in a male-dominated world. Therefore I am a feminist poet. Side note: several male poet friends have told me (some even to my face) that I’m a bossy bitch. I take this as a compliment.” (website)

Rattle Logo

May 5, 2015

“Presbyopia” by Roberta BearyPosted by

Roberta Beary

PRESBYOPIA

Haibun

On my left something moves. I cannot see what it is from the side mirror. I know it’s big. And alive. I try to remember the rule I learned as a student driver. Should I slow down? Swerve to the right? Slam down hard on the brake? Speed up? No matter how hard I try I can’t think. I slow the car with my foot on the brake. A deer leaps over my windshield. As it disappears into the woods, a car horn blares. I check my mirror and see a long blur of cars behind me. I open my window and give them the finger.

autumn leaves—
at last the light
turns green

—from Rattle #47, Spring 2015
Tribute to Japanese Forms

__________

Roberta Beary: “Exiled to Tokyo in the 1990s, I morphed into ‘wife of’ in Japan. I tried to fit in and not lose myself in the process. But it wasn’t working. I was slowly disappearing. Then I found haiku. And lost my husband. But that’s another story.” (website)

Rattle Logo