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
TURBULENCE http://turbulencepoetry.blogspot.com/ - Published in Issue number 7 - Seamstress
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Not Here
Doesn't matter how many tries,
watching her pack things away,
it's moving day, her heart is in
every box waiting for the truck
My hope marks all of them
NOT FRAGILE
but handle with care
the empty room left neat,
the quiet, bittersweet
she holds her disposition under an elbow
2 pencils do their job,
one holds her hair, one behind her ear
a pen, betwixt teeth
she is reading and thinking
and filing and remembering
and testing and trying and
listening and loving and living
and packing
and leaving
"See you next month for dinner Mom!"
a moment
and I run out of the house in stocking feet with her ... pen
I see her 3 year old face, can almost hear....
"Don't forget this, do you have everything?"
"Yes, yes Mom, it's fine."
We stand there, loose piece of hair,
a habit, I tuck it behind her ear,
she leans in and hugs me goodbye
I do not cry,
not here.
Vellicative
light washed,
spectrum bent
Pearl wears a
clam-shell necklace
her throat-choked words
glide behind time, edged
perception, light borrows
a split second eye-twitch
skin tight, weathered face
blows a smoke ring, might
be scary if skittish fear didn't
flutter on her shoulder,
baneful butterfly, vellicative world
occupies your attention, licks your ear,
raven whispers, smiles at the clams
in your shaking hands
Word of the Day Series
Saturday, December 25, 2010
The Twelve Steps of Christmas
I think it's funny that Twelve
has an elf in it, tripped up your
steps counting, reek rum
lost your coffee, wish me
Happy Thanksgiving when
it's only Easter
You sound like Ozzy,
not Harriets husband
that other loud one,
and you keep losing my number
I am not outstanding, never
have been
You are mad, your insolent
heart, trembling hands
Grabs my vintage lilt,
whisper screams at the window,
draw a smiley, watch it cry
in the fog
I think it's funny that sad
rhymes with, I can't call you,
I keep losing your number,
drink my coffee wishing you
a happy Father's day, when
it's only Christmas
Monday, December 6, 2010
Irascible
cool, cruel, fractious
bend and bow
meandering soul hears
flapping tongue
full of razor blades
can't just play
sit and spin
can't get up
legs out, feet up,
hand over hand
over hand
sensitive?
oh baby,
you tried
you also failed
big irascible monster
at first licks softly,
screams down, to ravage,
bites down hard,
not hard enough to break skin
but hard enough
to make you cry
Word of the Day Series
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Invigilate
you could hear
the unprepared panic
of the quiet one
sitting way in the back,
hair strand nervously
tucked behind an ear
sandglass nerves
resonate with clicking heels
slow, up one way and down
each military aisle,
single file
heads bent
try, fail, erase, try,
face glued to paper biopsy
no eye stretching,
reaching outside, into
another's assay
never a head movement
oh, never that
or the invigilating
clickity heels
might see, might
get her
very big ruler out
Word of the Day Series
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Sentient
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Moving Picture
Die of boredom, good girl,
almost caught a movie, but
beauty takes the night with a purse full of glitter,
slung sideways, bounce on hip, inviting.
"Club Men," the drinks are heavy handed,
raw music lights throb red
flirtatious on pretty thighs
and she loses herself in the crowd.
Sparks catch,
black cat petals play bright blue eyes,
smiles play siren songs,
bodies melt,
music's lazy so
she lets go,
Disco ....
says, "Let's go."
Die of Boredom, good girl,
almost caught a movie, but
crimson climbs into lustful pulsing,
pin pricks feast on cocksure casualty,
and she scratches lonliness into flesh.
Patches of lovedust stay on the doorknob,
the mirrored ceiling plays a show.
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
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Rush of Harsh
rush of harsh
energy flows
feeds, grows
begins at your toes
bruises your insides
tears you apart
sentimental sweetheart
spreading thin, break apart
slices your neck
petaled kiss flushes rose
sadness grows
except your head, it knows
without your heart
why your insides are laced
with the front of your face
finger tear-trace
insensible eyes
let go of desire
r-e-w-i-r-e
water the fire
rush of harsh
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Impetus
she touched my cheek
erotic, deliberate
insanity napping with
double headed
monster's eyereach
my soul naked,
carnal, swelled muse music,
hands compose aching
love twists
painting my energy
earthy momentum
loved me,
gave impetus to reach inside
wrap the warmth around
my hands that shake
and hurt sweetly where she touched them
throb softly, every time she thinks of me
Word of the Day Series
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Surreptitious
innocent devotion clings to lint
sticks in between
cracks in the floor boards
I pick, carefully put
disgraceful devastation into my pocket
staining the wood over and over
working myself out of the ambush
of such a long time ago
finding that slippery,
surreptitious love
is as good for you as fast food
running running
away goes my mind
you will never know how ugly is unlearned,
your sharp, secretive undercover skills
made me want to crawl on the ground
because dirty felt good, felt even,
your stealthy, back-door, dangerous smiles
still live in my head and now
I'm wishing I could grow
God-damned wings.
because I'd meet you on a private wire,
sing my sad love song, sweet, out of key,
watch your disappointed face glower
at respite tears that stain,
place into your warm palm
all that I have of you from my pocket
Word of the Day Series
sticks in between
cracks in the floor boards
I pick, carefully put
disgraceful devastation into my pocket
staining the wood over and over
working myself out of the ambush
of such a long time ago
finding that slippery,
surreptitious love
is as good for you as fast food
running running
away goes my mind
you will never know how ugly is unlearned,
your sharp, secretive undercover skills
made me want to crawl on the ground
because dirty felt good, felt even,
your stealthy, back-door, dangerous smiles
still live in my head and now
I'm wishing I could grow
God-damned wings.
because I'd meet you on a private wire,
sing my sad love song, sweet, out of key,
watch your disappointed face glower
at respite tears that stain,
place into your warm palm
all that I have of you from my pocket
Word of the Day Series
Sunday, October 17, 2010
I've Got the Music in Me
lustful score
ego ideal
primitive ballad
sex appeal
aphrodisia
subconsious urge
tender freak
refrain, submerge
Thirst, oh yeah
exactly what
curiosity
euphonic love
heavy breath
music sheet
surrendering
symmetry
honeyed whispers
songlike, sweet
carnal blue
stunned downbeat
treble heart
music made
final note
gently laid
Tribute to one of the greatest bands of all time
Friday, October 15, 2010
Home
Windmill marvels brilliant blue sky,
eastbound into dry wheat country
only one hour away.
The beautiful part of the scenery lies comfortably in my mind.
I can smell familiar flavors
and hear our laughter coming hard, so fast and easy.
You'll see it here and there
in photographs taped and framed all over the place.
Life is soft and familiar here
and my foot feels heavy
in pursuit of just being there sooner.
I see "Welcome Home" when I pass the sign
telling me 10 more minutes to my destination, haven.
My smile comes easily, my shoulders drop, I feel light
free and wonderfully ready
to watch gentle hands holding on to memories
that will outlast our lifetime.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Nobody
Do you know what I know?
Scarlet heart squeezed tight through chains
the heavy gray digging in
Blood spills with each pump
she sings
"There's a hole in the bucket"
she hums
she sings
"There's a hole in the bucket"
she hums
"dear Liza, dear Liza"
Tears wrung through with mop water
the stain grows darker
but still, she scrubs
a scrub
Monday, October 11, 2010
Oxymoron
My politician resents my penny
just because it's copper.
Any blind man can see
that a wise fool
stands a one hundred percent chance
at successful loss
with such mindless thinking.
Guess I'll go to work, and play.
Laughing tears at what
a penny finds, I dig deeper,
and I am promised
premeditated spontaneity,
salted with open disclosure
of organized chaos,
quiet screaming into shallow deepness,
and new, traditional, tiny mountains
of truth in advertising,
not to worry though,
all will be signed with invisible ink.
and so the uninterrupted
commercials continue,
knowledgeable of nothing,
Winning Washington!
::slaps forehead::::
Now "there's" an Oxymoron!!
Where they can sit up, terribly pleased
dancing as puppets with no strings,
hiding within our support of course,
apologizing profusely with no remorse, because
a lovely, tanned smiling face with frown
is a politician standing upside down.
Word of the Day Series
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Sublime
when the world is no longer subtle
twisted turnabouts
scattered photographs
shallow light
filled with love,
so uneven and yet,
so there,
to be in
balance beams smile
free space outright
lovely creature invite
enchanting in stride
retreat inside
baked shell shy
sparkle water winged light
stages blissful sighs
walking, looking for what might
feed the next breath of life
to fly by, inspire
humbling mind's eye
survive by
sweet nature's high
afterimage outside
stagger justified
defiance of time
get up again and try,
a pathway might straighten
still life reflection makes you,
part of the beautiful
breathing, life simplied
so moving on the exhale
to come alive
live deep inside
what is sublime.
Word of the Day Series
Monday, October 4, 2010
Ethereal
between shifts of light
spirits give bird's wings
to ashen bones
thin-spun
to drift
eyes catch, glide
private dance, slide
landscaped laugh lines
come alive!
make this
emerald kingdom
mine to settle into
held affectionately
enough of a moment,
sweet, willowy
warm breeze
teaches light,
reaches dark,
kisses soft,
naked shoulders,
shivering,
spellbinding,
beautiful
trickery
of slight
hindsight
teasingly
mastery
of hold
unfold
so easily
wrapped, breathless,
twisted to come
slowly undone
weaving shifts of light
through blind flying,
elevated cloud-woven
thoughts of
liquid heaven
you can fly through
Word of the Day series
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Innate
planted seed
of inherent need.
yearning, lock
a mind's eyes
instinctive latch,
grasp and cry
please,
don't let go
cover me with embers,
curled in, petrified pose,
radiate the heated love
that pours
and burns
leaves marks
keeps traits
innate,
born into me
Word of Day series
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Conundrum
Faith brings to me
water beating on leaves
beside beautiful trees
that poignantly speak
in brilliant green
vulnerability.
Palms to the sky, why?
Eyes closed, to rely,
on only God to get by.
Who washes the river
when love and silver
crash and splinter?
Surface hope's throw
confusingly slow,
aching, wading shallow,
sorry casual approach
and it remains to be so
a conundrum composed.
Word of the day Series
Friday, September 24, 2010
Juxtaposed
taking love
skinless, consistent
making hate
nonexistent
watching blind
juxtaposed
embracing dreams
covered, exposed
arms wide open
defeat, achieve
heart beats alive
blood on sleeve
deep inside
outside, within
watch an end
begin again
Word of Day series
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Perseverate
Child's replay,
repetition scrapes
his tender age.
Gesture in triplicate,
otherworldly rage.
Doctor's speak,
shatter heart's pleas
feel him counting pieces.
Chanted love in threes,
whispery releases.
Scissors cutting, shy
cutting circles, by and by,
half moon scraps go into piles,
maybe, he will notice why, why
he's cutting, cutting smiles.
Word of the Day series
Monday, September 13, 2010
Vector
Down to earth
from where?
Radius vector
reads in degrees
and it is so hot in here.
Tis a straight line
unless you circle 'round.
Walk with me
where sensational quiet
resonates with sound.
Some are mechanical,
biologically sired.
Word vectors.
if there's such a thing
are greatly admired.
Incensed by direction,
defined by so few.
Vector is contagious
as is learning
something new.
(First in Word of the Day series)
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Remembering Shakespeare
"A coward dies many times before his death. A valiant dies but one death." And in that death, finds peace...
Whistle sweet around trees,
music melts into sun-blasted
bagpipe melancholy,
lifts golden, pulsing leaves
blazing light into your smile.
steady as he goes
you were left
you went
and yet
we are left
with warmth feeding brilliance,
steadfast affection watching shaking hands
reaching out with brotherhood, affinity
recollected, remaining vivid
remembering to never forget you
and we won't, we won't
We'll find the beautiful memories etched inside of our hearts like photographs. While we are with each other we will find the ones that make us tip our heads back and belly-laugh. We'll feel the arms once around us still there while we tell stories and talk about your antics, your pranks, we'll take turns remembering when you were little, so cute, so young, so alive...alive....alive....
and when the night comes, soft flowers
on breezes will find those
pictures painted into our hearts,
sealed inside of our souls,
sweet memories that make us pause,
and then,
we'll breathe a little for you sweetheart,
for that moment when you had to figure out
how to leave us, and in that silence,
we will remember Shakespeare
and all of your dreams
and that you loved us
and that you will live on inside of us
deep inside all of us
forever.
You will not be forgotten Brian
I love you
< Brian J Hoyle died on August 27th. He was killed by a drunk driver. Please - don't drink and drive>
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Shy and Shameless
shy, a stolen glance,
to land upon softened, grey blue,
swerve, blink bashful, but
not before recognition hits,
he sees the brilliant green
she lowers her lashes, remembers
finding her charming,
familiar and yet different
grey-blue smiles
stares shamelessly,
intense on a return peek
heat splashes breastbone,
works its way up
a slender neck
but
a, younger, bolder spirit finds its way
quiet gasps of breath
as grey-blue-green
sway,
twinkle,
sparkle,
engage
they both laugh
shy
shameless
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Torn up Throat
blue-black hole stares
back at me.
ashtray slides
across kitchen table,
sinister backdrop,
torn up throat
saliva drips
inside her neck,
she spits words
"your mom?"
unspoken slips,
"Grandma, she's fine."
the machine sucks,
it's loud
and it sucks
this sucks
her mind
and blows
unkind
still breath
no air
smokefilled
nightmare
senses lost
staring deeply back at me
blue-black backdrop,
everyone's smoking,
slide the ashtray
and her eyes shine,
sorry to do it
light one up,
smells so good
to her torn up throat.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Dreams To Me
Creature
found me
so sweet
stalked up
sang dream
songs to me.
He said
he'd teach
brain bleed
love songs
and he'd
marry me.
I said
okay
hold on
as there
are just
two things.
Hollow
my soul
I show
so sad
bended
backward wings.
Tender
he kissed
my cheek
it bled
it spread
horribly
Turned me
into
creature
who will
love him
savagely.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Bird Flies Heavy
Barefoot beach,
walk silent, stand
Blood-red hearts
upon the sand
Hungry beauty,
white feathered dive
emerges black,
half alive
Squint, look up
through shaking hand
Heartbroken, defeated,
she tries to land
Years will come
you'll see
you'll cry
A bird flies heavy in the sky
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Cotton Candy and Lemon Drops
I like cotton candy 'cause it melts in my mouth as I eat it.
It is sweet,
yet not so sweet that it overshadows my senses.
It just adds to the whole experience.
Your closeness,
a sweet, melting sensation
just like cotton candy.
Remembered visions have me kneeling
by the edge of my bed.
A traceable scent on the brink of my mind
finds me, invades me,
permeates my prayers.
Now I lay me down to sleep
Did you know that is why I always
sneaked into your purse?
I'd search through the sweet and soured depths,
finding inside pockets,
bright lipstick, Cotton Candy Pink #5.
To paint that smile on my own young mouth
and hear you say,
"What a beautiful smile!"
And then you'd let me look for candy....
I don't like lemon drops 'cause I don't like the flavor.
They just don't appeal to me.
Maybe it is because they are sour.
It's a matter of taste.
I prefer watermelon.
That one day when I found the lemon drops,
I thought I'd struck gold, until I choked on one.
Grandma put her arm around me and
told me we'd be living at her place for awhile.
I now know why they dip lemon drops in sugar.
Momma? I miss you.
I wish my hands could paint pictures of the sky
when I see your face in a pink-cloud sunset.
I think I own every tube of Cotton Candy Pink # 5
and still listen for your voice when I wear it.
And I still carry your purse because, once in awhile,
I like to take a lemon drop out and suck the sugar off.
from Cotton Candy and Lemon Drops 2001
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Freeze Frame
Panoramic arctic beauty,
vernal thimbles gleam through
winter white cloud pillows,
downy filled by tiny snowflakes.
"There's a hole there!"
William, Percy, John, and Sam look upon Lord
who will not hear of it being sewn shut.
Turning up the music, Lord stands, says,
"We shall intimate ourselves again, gentlemen."
His eyes soft,
playful.
He picks up the cloud and shakes it
into the spirit hands covered with thimbles
sewing beauty blankets
to drop soft and slow from the sky.
Freeze frame
the music stops
a roof cracks
cold breath finds small paws
that lead to nothing
it's a shallow pan, man
and the trees,
crystal laden, heavy,
are romantically beautiful
and insane.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Scars Inside Walls
uncertain of
so many things
what belies truth
and the pain it brings
being let down
time after time
someone cuts into
and out of your life.
pause though it's
brief, ghost riding through town
is there hope for indifference
when your heart is facedown?
peace finds it's way,
survived in your soul
cuts, they still linger
but you remain whole
stronger for this
new scars make you humble
buried inside the walls
that will never crumble
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Hungry
Her pregnant pen
swallows the page,
a mindless fiasco,
fragments of rage.
Massage the bruise
accept, refuse,
your heartbroken muse,
must feed it.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Heaven's Moon
Silent dreams of heaven
scream the day awake.
Pictures pause, give scenery
Pictures pause, give scenery
flawlessness, fake.
Whiskey hell, blemished tune,
bouncing ball becomes balloon,
the tides turns,
consummation burns
as the spilled roads
across the golden pressed climation
give ordinary pause
to painted, shuttered illumination.
Tragedy finds awe in flight,
efflorescence reaps the night,
'tis fearsome in its bloom,
just this side of heaven's moon.
Belly Foot
Friday, July 2, 2010
Splintered
Magnetic splinters should they bind
pressed into palms of chosen beauty.
Passions split, faith intertwined
inside the noblemen's blue-blooded duty.
Parchment wrinkled, bled for ire,
windows smeared with born aggression.
House of glass blistered draught desire,
ineffectual, blackened indiscretion.
Exquisite retraint, her silouette,
expression stone, unfaltered grace.
Filled the hollow, prearranged regret
baneful silence fingering her face.
Swollen fragmentation, to heal a family's lie.
She dreams, consumed in smothering,
a distant newborn child's cry.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Inner Child
Monday, June 28, 2010
Remnants of Truth from the Cookie Jar
Standing in the doorway
not making a sound,
I watch her.
Some encounters
you just happen upon.
Unable to help myself
I choose to wait and observe
this priceless vision,
wishing I had a camera.
On tippy-toes,
and with the slightest effort,
a hand disappears.
In this very same pose,
with anticipation of capture,
she looks to the left
and then to the right.
Faint sounds of a hand
rummaging cautiously
and finding treasure.
Out it comes.
Evidence vanishing instantly
while the lid slides quietly
back on the jar.
Stifling giggles,
I clear my throat and enter,
stare down into deep blue eyes,
and witness a tiny mouth tightly shut
with just the slightest remnants
of the truth about her chin.
I turn my back and grin
when I hear the quick crunching.
Whirling around
just as she is about to escape
I say, "Would you like a cookie?"
She turns, surprised,
and with a guilty look,
she nods slowly.
Ignoring the crumbs
and her obvious uneasiness,
I reach into the cookie jar
and give her a smile
as I hand her the treat.
I watch her as she takes the first bite.
She eats this one more slowly.
Remorsefully.
"You know what's true?" I ask,
crunching and enjoying my own cookie immensely.
She carefully shakes her head, side-to-side,
waiting for the answer.
Big blue eyes blinking
as she swallows hard on the last bite.
as she swallows hard on the last bite.
Ruffling her hair
and brushing crumbs off her chin
I feel the slightest twinge and remember.
So with compassion for the captured
and, with a wink of understanding,
I make my statement.
"I bet this one doesn't taste as good as the first one."
From Cotton Candy and Lemon Drops 2001
"I bet this one doesn't taste as good as the first one."
From Cotton Candy and Lemon Drops 2001
Naked Cowboys
Spurs of plastic hit the floor
and don't forget the look.
"To Be a Cowboy Is an Honor"
is his favorite bedtime book.
His holster, he wears
just a little too low,
with guns snapped in
purely for show.
Big hat is tilted
to hide one eye
and it's not at all
because he is shy.
Leather boots that stop
just at the knee-cap.
He's making rounds
before his nap.
Mr. Cowboy Man,
I am so impressed.
He's got his gear on,
but he didn't get dressed.
He had stepped out of the bathtub,
and quickly fastened on his guns.
I think he must feel tougher
when he's showing off his buns.
I pleaded with him fast
to at least put on a shirt.
But with his gun aimed at my nose,
he warned me he would squirt.
I gave him my best smile
and told him, looking sly.
"I poured the water out--
your gun's not loaded, little guy."
But then, you know, those cowboys,
so very fast those feet can run.
He tore out of the bathroom
and I chased him just for fun.
"You cannot walk around like that!"
I yelled as he ran away.
"What if little Jennifer
wants to come over here and play?"
He turned around and pushed up his hat,
and gave me the cowboy stare.
"Don't you try to scare me, Mom,
Jenny doesn't care."
"Naked cowboys, I don't recall
seeing gear on, with a tush to bare."
"Yes, sirree," he said to me,
"they've got them everywhere."
And with that, he took off again,
giggling through the house.
to at least put on a shirt.
But with his gun aimed at my nose,
he warned me he would squirt.
I gave him my best smile
and told him, looking sly.
"I poured the water out--
your gun's not loaded, little guy."
But then, you know, those cowboys,
so very fast those feet can run.
He tore out of the bathroom
and I chased him just for fun.
"You cannot walk around like that!"
I yelled as he ran away.
"What if little Jennifer
wants to come over here and play?"
He turned around and pushed up his hat,
and gave me the cowboy stare.
"Don't you try to scare me, Mom,
Jenny doesn't care."
"Naked cowboys, I don't recall
seeing gear on, with a tush to bare."
"Yes, sirree," he said to me,
"they've got them everywhere."
And with that, he took off again,
giggling through the house.
I waited patiently and listened hard
but he was as quiet as a mouse.
I finally found him in the kitchen
"Howdy, ma'am!" he said.
"Could I bother you to fix some chow
or toast me up some bread?"
What could I do? I laughed so hard.
I know for certain, I have been blessed.
For even though he sheds his clothes,
my naked cowboy is the best!
but he was as quiet as a mouse.
I finally found him in the kitchen
"Howdy, ma'am!" he said.
"Could I bother you to fix some chow
or toast me up some bread?"
What could I do? I laughed so hard.
I know for certain, I have been blessed.
For even though he sheds his clothes,
my naked cowboy is the best!
From Cotton Candy and Lemon Drops 2001
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Crossroad
pitchfork stakes this crossroad,
the very blood of me
stains the tines
so quiet and still,
all but for the breathless choke
stand up
dust off my backside
happy memories float on
watch them break apart in the wind
which road to go
run fast,walk slow
just go
GO!
switchback into dirt path undertow
sorrow pulls deeply
the ground greets my knees
which way?
emptiness lives inside my sighs
I watch each vacant path
rise and fall in it's own distance
and as the dust filled breath of night
dries my eyes
and the quiet speaks truth into the lies
as steady as one can
I stand
produce the most beautiful
unbelievable wing span
and try
to fly
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Lost
I wandered the heat blasted rocks
and the breathless sway of my vision
pounded my soul.
A poignant heartfire,
face slapped with blank expressions
and panic cradled eternal,
bitten hard,
swallowed whole.
Weary and wicked,
a pondering of being both,
which is so fresh,
so amusing
as if
the choice
were mine
to make.
Hearts stopped beating
for probably just a second
when our eyes connected
and then,
it simply
began to rain.
and the breathless sway of my vision
pounded my soul.
A poignant heartfire,
face slapped with blank expressions
and panic cradled eternal,
bitten hard,
swallowed whole.
Weary and wicked,
a pondering of being both,
which is so fresh,
so amusing
as if
the choice
were mine
to make.
Hearts stopped beating
for probably just a second
when our eyes connected
and then,
it simply
began to rain.
Schooled
Wishes turn to ashes,
cool vinyl seats sit empty.
I miss your face
that keeps making me sit up straighter,
roll my neck around my shoulders,
slump and sigh
slump and sigh
the wishes,
OH! the wishes
gorgeous embers burning,
turning
and now
they are just ashes.
Flashes of lashes,
the seats are cool, blue vinyl,
so very heartbreaking
and final.
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