Monthly Archives: March 2014

Searching for a Poem in the Bottom of a Bottle

A bottle of wine is often
offered to her ladyship,
the muse,
but she has a fickle pallet,
often wishing for fruity
when you have selected
dry. It is worse on the nights
when she refuses to be sated
by the grape, choosing
instead to deny the gift
of her words,
and leave you wishing
for whiskey.



Filed under Poetry

The Lady and Her Fans

It is an ancient art,
a dance defining seduction
long before the age of blatant
clothes on, fans splayed,
skilled at exciting the imagination.

She moves slow, perfectly in tune
with the pulse of the music,
feathers skillfully interposed
between searching gazes
and forbidden views,
an ever elusive promise.

Her body and the fans
become an increasingly
irrelevant part of the dance,
her gaze locked
on the audience
through each turn and twirl.

By the end I am convinced
she looks at — and dances
for — none other than me.


Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

A Note to My Christian Brethren

So easy it is for us to forget this simple
truth: the Book is an entire work and not
meant to be taken piecemeal. You are very
quick to remember the verses which

condemn what you find offensive, or simply do
not understand, while always forgetting
the ones which pertain to you. You see,
when reading, the purpose is to look inward

for direction and inspiration, not for words
to use as weapons against others. There are sins we
Christians are fond of persecuting — adultery,
homosexuality, idleness — while seeming

to ignore equally important offenses such
as idolatry, coveting and speaking untruths …
passing judgement. Remember — if you insist
on cherry-picking verses — Jesus dining

with the sinners, stating it was for them
he came? Perhaps, if we are meant to continue
His work, to be more like Him, we should
consider more inclusive words and deeds

to draw our fellow sinners to Him, instead
of continually striving to push them away.


Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

Six-foot Deep

There are things that lie in the bottom
of a six-foot deep holes

a vessel interred in a silk-lined box,
carefully selected clothes and a good
pair of shoes. Things, only. Things that lose
all value when the first piece of dirt falls.

There are things never found in the bottom
of a six-foot deep hole:

the sound of your voice does not echo
in that void, or the memories of places
where we always laugh and dream, or the touch
or your hand over time and distance.

Love lies buried in many places, but not
at the bottom of a six-foot deep hole.


Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

A Perfect Home

it was the perfect home:

the kitchen was small —
room for only one cook —
but the meals were the right size;

the table was built for two,
we could sit close enough
to touch while we planned
our lives adventures.

routine claimed the hours
of our life:

meals followed the path of repetition —
Monday, meatloaf, Tuesday, chicken … —
each one tasting of the last;

distractions ruled the time
at the table, daily inanities
killing grand plans;

we still sat close enough to touch,
but rarely did skin meet skin.

it was the perfect home,
until time peeled paint,
we became one with the seat cushions,
and adventure was a false memory
of things never done.


Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

March Mo(u)rning

The piper plays
amazing grace,
tears are shed,
along with
the drops
of yesterday’s rain,
falling from
bare branches.


Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts