Thought Wheel

Ann Chiappetta

small success

| Filed under Poem writing

This poem made into Magnets and Ladders  a small online journal and won an honorable mention.



By Ann Chiappetta



little metal Alloy trinkets

open tumblers

Strung together on rings, tied

To thongs or clipped to lanyards


Brass or silver toned

taste like cold blood

When clamped between lips and teeth

While Struggling to open the door

After Marathon shopping sprees


One might surmise keys are replaceable — after all

What is a locksmith for?


hand slips into pocket

fingering objects

touching the stories

Represented in physical sentiment’s


A pewter policeman’s hat, a plastic starfish

A silver dog bone


If someone else found these keys, would they know? Would

They understand the life

The symbolism

The unrevealed memories


Of a charm for a   father

Or a mother, gone

and the bone

Signifying the bond and love

for a guide dog?


Just trinkets

inserted into slots

And forever remembered with each turn

The opening of a  door

into a heart.





by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 0

The Zipper Stops Here

| Filed under writing

Not sure if you all know what I look like, so without too much information, I am a shortish, rubenesque female with brown hair and hazel eyes. I am fat. Now that we are past the necessaries, I am also what they call “peasant legged”, meaning, I have stout legs and large calves. This is, from what I have learned, a body type like big hips or narrow shoulders.  If I could change anything, I’d change my legs from the knees down.  Where is this going, one might ask? Follow me to Macy’s where I search for the ever elusive wide calf boots…


I’ve tried on three pairs of these boot styles only to be disappointed that the zipper stops just below my ginormous calf muscle. Maybe I should paint myself green and grunt like the Hulk. Hey, wasn’t there a female hulk?


I had childhood flash backs to when Frye boots were in the height of fashion and I finally saved up the money to buy them, only to be brought to tears when I couldn’t get them past my calves. I was 14, and just dying for a pair.  So, there I was, 36 years later, hearing the sales woman say, “Nope, they don’t fit,” and taking them off. So, I placated myself by buying another pair of boots with a shorter shaft. They are very cute and will look terrific with skirts and trousers, but in my mind, they aren’t the leather riding boots I’ve always wanted. I am now thinking about having a pair custom made. I know I am not, as my husband says, “Imelda DeMarco’s” but, at this point in my life, if I can’t have the boots of my dreams, then what do I have to look forward to? The retorics of this statement don’t resonate with me, either. I guess all the toe raises and miles on the bike at the gym will add to my dilemma. I just must accept that I will always be a low boot kind of gal.




by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 0