We are heading off to Disney for family vacation. Needless to say, I will be very limited (if at all) in my posting and reading this week.
Thank you very much to everyone that follows this blog and takes time out of their lives to bless me with comments and feedback.
See you next week!
Filed under Poetry
There will come a time
when we shall choose…………
…………………….to hide from the hideous,
when the cataclysmic
………………………….and catastrophic will no longer
………………threaten the integrity of fragile
cranial capillaries. ………………….
We shall be dedicated to ………………………………
……………copious amounts of dizzying
…..living for the opposite of queasy,
unconcerned with rivalry
or competition,
a sense of panic part of a
senseless past,
worrying and hand wringing
……………..left in another life.
……..We shall paint and write
………..on canvas, walls, paper
…………………..and body parts,
applaud the sunsets…………………………
and dance to any music……………………..
(even if only we can hear).
And in the evenings,
…………………..or mornings if we choose,
…………..we will huddle on the futons
in rapt attention
and enthusiastically clap and cheer
while our friends play the guitar,………………………
sing their unsung songs……………………………………
and read unheard poems………………………………….
Later, whether night or nap,
…………we shall dream cotton candy dreams
as we soundly sleep,………….
.safe within our padded walls.
Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts
She smiled a sad
sort of smile,
squeezed my hand
and said “not yet,
ask me again in
a little while”.
A little while
passed,
and then a little
more.
Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts
I stared at the closed door for some time.
I did not expect her to come
back though,
we were too far gone for dramatic
entrances and reconciliations.
A closed door is interesting,
life being defined by which
side you are on,
and who has closed it.
She stood there a while,
before she left,
waiting for me to speak.
I lied when I said “I understand.”
So had she when she said “Always.”
Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts
You can skim the surface of life
like a skipping stone causing ripples
with each touch, or be still
and seek that beneath the surface.
Surface waves (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
For the Imaginary Garden Sunday Challenge where
they have asked for a fragment suitable for a jar.
Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts
It was a good life,
that of a fisherman’s wife.
A good home, loving husband,
children to be proud of.
She could not ask for more.
September skies brought
fleeting thoughts
as she stood on the cliff
and watched the sun
set into the sea,
and remembered how
the sailor danced.
Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts
The studio of the artist
is much like the man.
The stony exterior is cracked
and worn, unkempt
and unwelcome to the
uninvited.
Teen boys loiter on the corner,
peering at the doorway as they
wait for the sensuous silhouette
of a model to saunter by.
Teen girls watch the boys,
twirl their tresses and wish
for the same attention.
Through the door are dark
corridors and a shadowed
workspace.
The room is quiet,
though not silent.
No music full of lilting lyric
allowed, only white noise,
to keep restless
thoughts focused.
The painter finds rich color
tangled in the dim light,
the canvas showing
what none other
knew existed.
Artist (Photo credit: Vince Garcia)
For the Sunday Whirl
Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts
I think I would like a beer.
Keep in mind, please,
I am not referring to an
Americanized ‘lite’ pilsner,
more akin to spring water
on the palate
No, I prefer something which
pours slow and is the color
of African skin, or deep
Cherokee bronze.
The heady aroma of hops
should open in the nose,
the liquid almost thick
in the mouth, substantial.
This is not a refreshing brew
for a hot summer day.
It is a quiet porch bathed
in autumn leaf filtered light,
sweaters and dogs at your
feet, a fire in the pit.
Later there will be brandy,
or Gran Marnier, perhaps
a cigar. But, for now,
I want a beer.
Margo asked us for a ‘wants’ poem. I kind of got stuck…
Shared at the dVerse Poets Pub
Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts
this rage is strong —
pit of the stomach,
hand shaking strong —
but not lethal,
not violent.
more,
a fear, a desire
withheld,
a need.
action or release,
fulfillment or
denial
hinges
on a look,
a tear,
a word.
frustration (Photo credit: roujo)
Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts
He stood most of the day —
hands in his pockets, leaning
on a lamp post — watching
those that came and went
from the church.
Looking for…signs;
haloes on worshipers
or angels on the ramparts
of a building he had
thought of as more hollow
than hallowed.
The shadows were long
before he began a
shuffle-step towards
the door, wondering with
each stumble if he could
shoulder the burden
of forgiveness.
Church doors (Photo credit: slack12)
De of WhimsyGizmo fame is standing in this
week for Shawna with Poetic Words
Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts
Awakened Words 