Movement in the barnyard
Under that storm-green sky
Oblivious
To anything but the grass
Anything but the grain
Are we playing Hide and Go Seek?
Again, little muse?
I feel you in my sore wrist.
Are you sitting on my shoulder?
And there you are...
Sitting by fence post
Barbed wire, your canopy,
Twiddling your thumbs, some string
Or just words?
There. Your brown head bobs again.
No, it's just a goat among the chickens.
Monday, June 29, 2015
Tuesday, June 9, 2015
Amanda
Your blotchy skin is mine.
So is your small form curled against me for a lullaby.
"I wonder when..."
You have my heart of strong bricks.
My love for you as tender as the skin grafts on your forearm.
Inextricably intertwined, are we.
My willow girl,
Bending and thin, swishing with the wind
There is something right between us.
I am never more worthy
Your eyes know me, hold me, and I won you with a quarter.
Your sap feeds my heart.
You give and you give
You break down walls to breathe the fresh air
You are cloud-stepping, full-hearted
Sister to my soul
Sister of my body
Daughter of my heart
So is your small form curled against me for a lullaby.
"I wonder when..."
You have my heart of strong bricks.
My love for you as tender as the skin grafts on your forearm.
Inextricably intertwined, are we.
My willow girl,
Bending and thin, swishing with the wind
There is something right between us.
I am never more worthy
Your eyes know me, hold me, and I won you with a quarter.
Your sap feeds my heart.
You give and you give
You break down walls to breathe the fresh air
You are cloud-stepping, full-hearted
Sister to my soul
Sister of my body
Daughter of my heart
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
How Can I Get to Where You Are?
It was late.
It was night.
I glided on a car made of skateboard wheels and twine.
Street lights twinkle like faraway stars,
But the road below me shone black as an underground pool.
Passing lights overwhelmed my sight
and the black of the road left me blind.
I reached out for the painted lines that curved and swayed the road.
I could only trust my fingertips to steady me on this sooty path.
Gravity pulled me toward my destination.
Home.
Home.
My descent grew steeper.
I called for you, fear pitching my voice higher.
Hear me.
Help me.
Stop me.
My eyes are plucked out.
The surface is too slick.
Night's maw is open.
I fall and she smacks her lips.
It was night.
I glided on a car made of skateboard wheels and twine.
Street lights twinkle like faraway stars,
But the road below me shone black as an underground pool.
Passing lights overwhelmed my sight
and the black of the road left me blind.
I reached out for the painted lines that curved and swayed the road.
I could only trust my fingertips to steady me on this sooty path.
Gravity pulled me toward my destination.
Home.
Home.
My descent grew steeper.
I called for you, fear pitching my voice higher.
Hear me.
Help me.
Stop me.
My eyes are plucked out.
The surface is too slick.
Night's maw is open.
I fall and she smacks her lips.
Saturday, May 23, 2015
She Shall Outdistance Calamity Anywhere She Goes
When she comes back--
into the world, red and slick, re-
incarnated she will not wait--
She will squall without the spank--
Warrior cry, Pen poised--
to mar the blank slate--
New life, new woman--
New dress? Perhaps--
Yes, to be sure.
Trouble will come to call.
She will have her track shoes on
before the knocker can sound.
Bus, train, car or fleetest foot--
Speed boat, aero plane--
Leaving Trouble in the dust.
----
I chose the third choice, Kenia's Wednesday challenge, for my inspiration.
I had written off Marianne Moore a long time ago (the HYPHENS!!!) and it was nice to revisit her work. She was a lot better the second time around. I could even see a similarity of style between us.
I took my title from her poem "Diligence Is to Magic as Progress Is to Flight."
I also chose to follow her style and see if I could make those confusticated hyphens work for me.
Her original poem : here
into the world, red and slick, re-
incarnated she will not wait--
She will squall without the spank--
Warrior cry, Pen poised--
to mar the blank slate--
New life, new woman--
New dress? Perhaps--
Yes, to be sure.
Trouble will come to call.
She will have her track shoes on
before the knocker can sound.
Bus, train, car or fleetest foot--
Speed boat, aero plane--
Leaving Trouble in the dust.
----
I chose the third choice, Kenia's Wednesday challenge, for my inspiration.
I had written off Marianne Moore a long time ago (the HYPHENS!!!) and it was nice to revisit her work. She was a lot better the second time around. I could even see a similarity of style between us.
I took my title from her poem "Diligence Is to Magic as Progress Is to Flight."
I also chose to follow her style and see if I could make those confusticated hyphens work for me.
Her original poem : here
Friday, May 22, 2015
The Head is a Pitcher, The Nose Its Spout
I was weeping in my closet.
(Do you weep inside yours?)
I cracked the spine and wrote
(It was a dark and stormy face)
A list of the things I knew for certain
(choosing buoyancy over drowning)
Skills were noted, faiths testified
(And I wrote I look good in black)
I closed the book with determined snap
(then I put away pairs of shoes)
I filled three pages with things I knew
(I could've eaten my feelings instead)
Emptied my heart, cleared my head
(cramped hand and a pain in the neck).
(Do you weep inside yours?)
I cracked the spine and wrote
(It was a dark and stormy face)
A list of the things I knew for certain
(choosing buoyancy over drowning)
Skills were noted, faiths testified
(And I wrote I look good in black)
I closed the book with determined snap
(then I put away pairs of shoes)
I filled three pages with things I knew
(I could've eaten my feelings instead)
Emptied my heart, cleared my head
(cramped hand and a pain in the neck).
Kristine
Her curls blend with the swirls of the sea
Eddies swish 'round the pedestal
The tides call her home
But down flutters o'er her heart
As her fingers stretch to feel
The tickling of the breeze
Feathers sprout, wings unfurl, she rises
She rises with a cry, bright thing.
A sail from a distant vessel waves her farewell.
Eddies swish 'round the pedestal
The tides call her home
But down flutters o'er her heart
As her fingers stretch to feel
The tickling of the breeze
Feathers sprout, wings unfurl, she rises
She rises with a cry, bright thing.
A sail from a distant vessel waves her farewell.
Friday, April 24, 2015
Two Sisters
Two sisters
Daily chores
Work to do
A small request
A tiny sip
Of water from the spring
Younger girl
Yes, of course
Diamonds from her lips
Older child, refused
Had only vipers
She could spit
In the looking glass
Haunted by the tale
Which sister do I see?
----
The Fairies by Charles Perrault http:/www.pitt.edu/~dash/perrault05.html
is great tale that rewards compassion. This is my wish for myself. This link is a short retell if and worth the visit.
The moral is retold in two different versions by author Robert D San Souci in The Talking Eggs
and
The Well at the End of the World.
Daily chores
Work to do
A small request
A tiny sip
Of water from the spring
Younger girl
Yes, of course
Diamonds from her lips
Older child, refused
Had only vipers
She could spit
In the looking glass
Haunted by the tale
Which sister do I see?
----
The Fairies by Charles Perrault http:/www.pitt.edu/~dash/perrault05.html
is great tale that rewards compassion. This is my wish for myself. This link is a short retell if and worth the visit.
The moral is retold in two different versions by author Robert D San Souci in The Talking Eggs
and
The Well at the End of the World.
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