Monthly Archives: March 2012

Pain and Potions

Amateur alchemist lack the acumen
required for the potion I desire.
I seek one skilled in the craft,
who knows how to gauge the
proper ratio of oil, acid, juices,
sprinkled powders and spells
required to erase my memories.
Remove that image of the
supple curve of her tender skin,
hide from me thrill of her smile,
the ever-present joy of her presence.
Sweep away all knowledge of
life after the first whiff of her fragrance,
kill the pain of every day
lived since she left.

 

 

 

 

 

Written for The Sunday Whirl wordle.

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Shadow Dance

 

 

 

On that day,
so very long ago,
when I thought to pass
you on the street,
your dancing shadow
grabbed me and
has yet to let go.
Even now,
whenever we part,
I feel that tug as
our spirits cling,
one to the other,
vowed to dance
until life fades into
the shadows.

Posted to the Poetic Bloomings photo prompt.

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Reverie Eleven Prompt

The title of this prompt form Joseph Harker is ‘not enough time. The short version is for a poem about an event, without actually describing the event, just include periphery non-significant activities. Also include time elements. Read the prompt on Joseph’s site, much more info (more intelligibly presented). Here is my take, going with the attitude (from either Joseph or Margo) that they are all drafts! And this one feels rough. I will leave a comment as to what event is being described in case I left it too vague.

Out of Time

A decent meal had been hard to come by,
but not something we were interested in,
more an excuse for an hours escape.

He and I had talked more, about more,
than in any previous visit. The result of
close proximity and avoidance of greater
issues. Politics we agreed on, religion we
had always skirted. He seemed pleased
when I knew the verses to refute his claims,
or at least that I was not a blind follower.

He had been home for a couple of showers,
but had only slept there for a few hours since
we arrived. We took care of the dogs until he
kenneled them, too much trouble he said. We
did manage the laundry and collecting the mail.

Hours upon days of beige sterility and forced
cheer begged for a few minutes outdoors, the
plants in the room not being of sufficient color.
Maryland retained most of it’s green in late
September, speckles of Fall allowed to creep in.

She was never present, but refused to leave
until I was out of time and could wait no more.

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Rebirth

Pull the recycling bin to the curb,
past the pruned stumps of crape myrtle
and azaleas in full bloom;
the sound of a weeks worth of beer bottles
drowns out the morning birds.
Our large pear trees have blossomed late,
seems the smaller ones always go first.

I sit in the car with my fast food lunch
watching the Jehovah’s Witnesses stalk
their prey as they emerge unsuspecting
from the discount grocery store.
The purple brilliance of a redbud offsets
the abandoned restaurant it grows beside,
discarded pamphlets proclaiming ‘Jesus
is Risen’ blow by with the pollen.

The new moon gleams through
thickening foliage on the horizon.
The rest of the house sleeps while I
watch out windows, wander halls and
channel surf, sober and sleepless.

Margo asked for a poem that focuses on a motif of our choosing. No idea if I am even close….. As usual.

Posted to the dVerse Poets open link night.

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Roses and Candy

She spurned his advances
for the longest time, but
he proved to be diligent
in his pursuit and
devoted in his affection.

Roses and candy and
persistence in the
gentlemanly arts was
eventually able to persuade
her of his charms.

High expectations led to issues —
turns out he was an
amateur as a lover…
but it was a skill she
was willing to nurture.

Something lighter than usual (for me) for Three Word Wednesday.

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A Regular Caller

This is a work in progress to go with Victoria Slotto’s prompt for a ‘second person’ piece. It is still somewhat rough (and admittedly somewhat trite/overdone in theme/subject) and in need of further revision. Once again, I also find myself thinking I have tried to force a prose piece into a poetic format. Would love your feedback, thanks.

 

Ah, my longtime companion.

It is terribly comforting to receive you again,

though, honestly, I cannot say you are welcome.

I have been waiting, expecting you,

who, more than any,

I can always depend on.

 

Excuse me a moment, you know my routine.

I force myself to await your arrival before

preparing my cocktail; imbibing too soon

impedes your visitation, yet, I am no longer

strong enough to entertain you unaided.

 

Now, lets us commune while there is time;

reveal to me your depths of discernment.

Share with me in that brutal, universal style,

personalized for me alone to understand,

challenged to cull what I seek through

assaulted senses and besieged thoughts.

 

Lamentably, our time comes to a close;

I fear you drift away too soon.

I will apprehensively anticipate your return,

for you, that I covet but dare not love,

are what I must remember is real, not this

numbness that curtails our intercourse.

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Lilies

Flip a helix in any direction and
it will always look the same —
she was more multi-faceted.
He could never tell which side
she was showing.

Over time, he came to think of
her in odd ways;
she often reminded him of
maple trees in winter, the
anticipation waiting for the sap
to produce the sweet syrup and
how it was impossible to get the
sticky stuff off of your hands.

More often he likened her to
the stone wheel of an old sugar
cane press, leaving him crushed
flat and useless after all goodness
had been extracted.

It rarely mattered what he thought,
‘yes’ was always his first answer,
the grief and doubt would come later.
That was the case now, as he stood
with the florist, wondering how many
lilies it would take.

Photograph of a Stargazer Lily en ( Lilium ori...

 

Written for Shawna’s Monday melting word Prompt to use the following words. lily, doubt, flip, yes, helix, grief, later, doubt, cane, maple. **NOTE** Lilies are the flowers most often associated with funerals, they symbolize that the soul of the departed has received restored innocence after death.**

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Over the Fence

;

;

;

;

;

;

;

At midday,

the untamed land

beyond the fence

called for potential adventurers,

needing for it’s dark areas

to be explored.

;

When the sun sets along

the fence line it transformed

the overgrowth to a magical place.

Sunlight dancing among branches

and hidden places laden with

imaginative potential.

;

Darker shadows of night

transformed it into a

sinister realm of unknown,

potential lair for denizens of evil.

A foreboding place to deter

intrepid travelers.

;

Written from a Poetry prompt at the Imaginary Garden using the Photography of Shanyn Silinski (who the photo above belongs to). Check out her blog for more great work.

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Another’s Rites

I pause to watch the robin perched
atop the viciously pruned crape myrtle,
surveying the partially green yards and
announcing his arrival to the females present.
Cardinals, bluejays, sparrows (and based on
my dawn awakening, an early rising woodpecker)
all vying for airspace and prime nesting spots.
Wipe the sweat, a drink of water,
grab the shovel and bend my back to
another of many loads of mulch.
I think I prefer the bird’s rites of spring.

birds

birds (Photo credit: tdietmut)

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Master Mechanic

Go ahead, work your magic,
those little tweaks and adjustments —
make it bend to your will,
obey your every command.
It should be easier this time;
I’ve put a zipper in my chest
to give you better access.
You will not have to use
the jagged knife
like the last time you
tinkered with my heart.

Witten for The Mag Photo Prompt.

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