Publication Credits

BROKEN GLASS -http://www.brokenglasspoetry.webs.com - Published in Online Ezine's First Edition - Crossroad, Schooled, Lost and Crushed

TURBULENCE http://turbulencepoetry.blogspot.com/ - Published in Issue number 7 - Seamstress


Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Vitriolic
















raw, malicious hunger
scandal bleeds
violent weave

empathy leave
vitriolic, vile
bitter peeve

malignant, naive
tickle miasmic
outrageous hate

to create
repulsive spite
feed, inflate

urge, masterbate
fingertip slurp
inhuman teethe

devour, spit, seethe
no real need
to breathe

Monday, November 29, 2010

Turnstyle















One way baffle gate,
faster, your mouth moves.
Bitter, resentful things
assaulting, suffering
can't get through the blue.

Your head, it throbs
with blistered light
then fades perhaps because this way
is wrong because this night
is going going gone,
until today as I am going
going
gone
I fade
away.

Friday, November 26, 2010

Propensity















bench
glitter water
thistledown, severe clear
crisp, blue-bright
canvas

creatures
painting sleep
cloudscape ink
nature's texture,
propensity

breathe
blackbird ballads,
winter's nests suspended,
deeply anticipating
songtime

Word of the Day Series

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Esoteric





















watch lips move
beautified, bookish,
cultivated conversations
breathe

mind says excited,
"hear that?" book shakes,
tender heart, looks up the
words

pages move on their own,
bewildered birds,
don't be afraid, awareness,
brilliant

shy fades in this light,
esoteric, enchanting circles,
my right foot plays hokey pokey
and

my bones feel less fragile,
do I fit in if there's nothing
written in between the lines?
learn

steady, trust, when a sparkle
throws wind in your wings, smile at it,
dance in it, fly, belong in your
life

Word of the day Series

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Bellicose













world phase,
who is my enemy?
is weakness born
bloodied, inside of me?

hostile grime
shines dirty, oiled
run, run, RUN!
your name cracks
on the edge of my voice,

God, I love your
stubbled face
and my aggression
doesn't speak of war
but that you are in it

I put it away,
pray, that contention
is only there for you
when you need it
and that you feel the pride
from this, other side

otherwise,
my mind sees peace
by a lake, on a pond,
float downstream
bellicose meets-
tranquillity

and this is why
I'm not in charge of the world,
my military
would leave soldiers
on the steps of
their mother's archway

everyone would see,
even the enemy,
rage reprieve, mercy

Word of the Day Series

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Vestige















from depth
comes charm,
collected glimmers
paint settled fragments,
afterglow

footprints restore
balance
whispered love,
snuggle in
innocent invention

the very best
pieces of me
did not leave with me,
dream true, I love you,
my vestige

Word of the Day Series

Ghepetto
















A procession, unbalanced,
sways upon my cords.
My pen's rearrangement
continues to incense me.

Inevitability states that my name
will never become hallowed,
but I wish for a grace
to touch hearts
leaving an imprint
deep inside.

Someone special to me heard my plea
before I ever uttered a single word.

She pulled tight on broken strings
and tied them lovingly into pretty bows.

Resignation of thought
was dangling there
but with persistence,
my master of marionette
maintained her impression
and gently guided my hand
in the art of "polish."

"To concede challenges nothing,"
my very own Ghepetto said.

"Pieces of work will only develop along with you."

I am not a puppet.
I am the receiver
of kind instruction, dipped
sweetly into golden glitter,
the kind that transforms a heart
with one single solitary suggestion,
to stand beating on the outside.

My mentor, my Ghepetto.

She means more to me than words.

One day, I hope
within a heart that yearns to
create the absolute in FLY- paper,
she will cut my strings,
blow into the wind
my name,
and, beside her, I will soar.

For Barbara Quanbeck, always teaching,
always encouraging, making me believe in "someday"
I love you, my Ghepetto.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Fire Glow











sleepy fire glow lashes
settle into dreams,
persevering mentor
firm sincerity

hesitating, wanting,
eyes on the skies,
elementary foothold,
clumsy fireflies

lashes beating,
catch air, can't fly,
suffer, self-defeating
try and try
and he urges, purges
hands idle, unseen
compassionately feeds
stuttered starts in between
gives sweet selfless knowledge
to souls empty, in need
gently blows golden wing dust
for beautiful speed

time for the test
doctor of wise
artful, devoted,
caring, quiet sighs

sleepy fire glow kindled
light up the night sky
never forgetting, who
encouraged them to fly

Dedicated to Dr. Charles A Ferguson
who has invested his heart in the art of teaching.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

The Unknown












eggshell footfalls
bring no light to the edge,
trip up the step,
choke on answers,
hold your head steady,
tremble, sway,
pendulate

apprehension leaks
a pattern,
finger swirled in
the time taken
wasted, even rocks thrown
force no splash back

vulnerability,
this bitch, this scratch of
sorry need,
just creeps panic,
too much,
the unknown,
the fear of it

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Saturday Morning

















Pale legs smooth against yours,
welcome warmth,
like blowing your hands
alive in the cold,
you are my waking comfort
blanket of adoration,
reeling me in,
unpretending,
here

I stare at the pink edges of
a peeking sun arrival
my head gently
lifts and falls,
lifts and falls
by the life of you
slowly dreaming
softly breathing
close my eyes
making me wish
everyday
was this,
Saturday morning

Friday, November 5, 2010

Cliche















lovely lives
in grass and oats
healed up blisters,
soft love notes

lunch with kids
peanut butter and jelly
catching laughter
butterfly belly

sit down charming
deep autumn red
paint the sky brilliant
wing-float overhead

cliche breathing
eyes close on a smile
kick out the welcome mat
hope stays for awhile

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Watching the Merry go Round

















I often wonder
what it would be like
to ride that horse

bet it would give me better posture
I mean really,
what else to do with all that pride?

wonder how hard
I'd have to hold on
:::smiles inwardly::::

truly a better image seen
would be winsome hair blown by breeze
than the backside flailing madly

just a sideline stare from this mare
courage just sort of sits
on my back like a fly

my luck, it would turn out
to be a just a pony and besides
merry-go-rounds make me nauseous