There was an error in this gadget

Saturday, March 31, 2012

Wind-Whisper






Wind-Whisper


In the floating of the unseen sinewed string - Wind-Whisper  on point of gentle fingertip leans to pet the shimmering shape hovering beneath the shine of sunrise - and there at the joined juncture of a frantic fervent wish-pack, the smell of frangipani lights the air, filling the would-be-child with the taste of possibility as she falls, fully formed, to paw through the soft air, tumbling celestial-joy-tickled-trick, onto the verdant green of her first born day. 








Thank you Richard Walker for  the words that revealed Wind-Whisper

Friday, March 30, 2012

transported


transported

The records were red
Vinyl I suppose
More like flattened rubies
In velvet lined cases
Or so they seemed
Stacked with precision care
We sat side by side
In the tiny living room
Eyes closed
Impossible violins
Tchaikovsky himself
In our kingdom of crescendo
Walls thrumming in palaced
Perfect echo
There not quite four
melted into his side
Him, that raven haired father
Of the single tear
Always as the final
Music broke over us
And then receded
Leaving only static silent
Crackling in
Pounding heart
Melted by the tsuniamied
Power of
That single
Tear tracking his
Unlined transported
Cheek
Under still closed eyes
And always just then
she called from her
grounded sublime misunderstanding
“Supper’s ready!”
His strong hands trembled
He rose
a signaled sigh
trailing us
as we left 




Wednesday, March 28, 2012

5 Poems About "One Last Thing"







Send the invitations

to the worms
to come hungry
bring family and
friends to the feast
so that interment
will be short and
return to the earth
to the earth to
flower once again
in whatever
chosen form
quick and
soaring
over the
backs of
fat pink
worms
smiling
in the flower
beds




One lost thing

Where did you have it last?
If I knew that finding would be fast!
Retrace your steps back a while
Why are you smirky with a smile?
Do not think that I can be bossed
What? This prompt is not about… oh not lost?
Okay then just one last thing
Before rushing to write read and careful remembering





German Shepherd On A Metal Table

They need two strong men to
lift your gentle limpid frame
onto gleaming stainless
two young men in respectful
clean khaki jackets
and sad eyes
they take with them
as we wait - just us again
locking eyes
I see you in there
for an instant
that puff balled
pick me pup
first anniversary
present of a dead
marriage
your velvet fur
slips soft still thick
under my frantic fingers
as you breathe deep
and shuddery
and we sink
into lakes of memory
a baby pulls himself up
to stand for the first
time
you fly over an
agility course
you are everywhere
my sweet fierce sentinel
time blurs in starburst
rainbows of fireworks
and sprinklers, ocean
swims and walks
rushes running a river
from my eyes
time melting
as from nowhere
She – white coated
surreal slurs   
"itistime"
holding a sparkling
needle and I
press your majestic head
away, into 
my pounding breast
sobbing one last
self indulgent sigh into your
eyes and then
smile
for you
and I swear you smile back
the light
never leaving
even when she says
you are gone



One Last Time

They pounded her upon her head
with intonations shouting loud as a football cheer
Just push! Just push! Just one last time!
And finally tah-dah! Her son was here!




The Turn - Ode to Peter Falk/Columbo


Waited with bated breath
as he walked always to the door
and then turned in rumpled raincoated
splendor and asked for just one
last question more....

Sunday, March 25, 2012

Joy









Joy

In the way of the Craft, the young girl awakens at her anointed hour, thrumming juices, teetering on the subtle slide of Woman to walk the cool passageway in the dim of dawn, stones cold on tender feet her gauge of the rush of rivered time. There in The Windowed Room she walked the prescribed steps, tall, supple, certain, shining, in spilled first light spreading sensuously across the wall of Acumen as she surely selects from breath blown crystal canters of acid, sparkling in sweet sinister surreptition, one, that one, single shimmered beaker of waiting oil, lifts in the circle of slender tapers of her forever forebearer fingers - sprinkled solitary goblets to fall into concentric centered circles, watching with her gazing eye for the arched gnarled foot of the Alchemist appearing at the splat of the final drop, arriving in precise promised punctuality in that sun surged joy soaked room to sweep the sudden swirling filigreed forgettable flotsam of her Innocent's yesterday into the coalesced certainty of her sun spun Tomorrow as light engulfs her nodding now.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

fielded



fielded

there she woke filaments
falling from her hair as she rose
elbows hugging knobby knees
and smiled
at the sun
breaking
free 

Sunday, March 18, 2012

the songed



the songed

There in the darkened hallways they perilously met singing sacred silent songs
of previous generations, two young girls taking upon their thin backs the lashed
drives of forebearers long gone to carry the sources of ALL to even one OTHER in
perfectly prescribed delivery, their gestures choreographed in drama, each soft
speaking hand sensuously silkily preserving the gentle gestures, passion
pounding without limit, lifting their budding breasts as they clasped each other
in final tight tear-filled parting and hurried off, melting the cold night
leaving small singed footprints on cobbled stones as the only sign of their
inherent mission in the dim weak fire drained dawn that follows forever
listening to catch a single molten note.





Thursday, March 15, 2012

In The Shimmering

Inspired by Poets United Thursday Think Tank




In the Shimmering

There in fingered glow of streaked
pomegranate dawn drawn slivered sun
from cerulean sky to horizon aquamarine
drenched in this junctured
perfect union in this instant of
first shining sunshaft born this
single feather filament, floated
from Forever
to Now, sentinel
in the Shimmering



Monday, March 12, 2012

Life of A Poet Interview at Poets United





Well this was very exciting - was interviewed over at Poets United.


http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/

I am now officially an online windbag :)


Given the extraordinary length Sherry Blue Sky so generously devoted to me there was - ironically - 
no room for a poem so I am reposting "In The Glow" here written for Thursday Think Tank at Poets United during which time I was being interviewed.  








In the Glow

Poets United Thursday Think Tank - Rebirth 3-1-12




In the glow

In the glow
of chaos swirling
from the brush of
butterfly wings
to cataclysm rises
from the confines of
ash behind barbed wired
smokestacks to the
lap of clear aqua waters
on a manicured fingertip
In the glow of chaos swirling
Each to the other connected
Through the tempest of time
Rising from each cindered soul
Floating from buildings terrible
Tumble into bottomless eyes of big bellied
Children's – sunsoaked run in suburban sprinklers
In summer eves that melt into
Arctic airless black
In the glow from
first outraged scream to last shuddered sigh
All that has been, is, and will be
From this besotted bare bone sharded
Unfamiliar landscape whirling in joyous
Confident abandon the constant
Shimmering configuration of a single slivered spark
In the glow  

Saturday, March 10, 2012

Accident?









Accident?


In the navied night - weaving through the dappled darkness libation lingers warmly lapping her breast - licking her nipples hard - pounding with whispered wondered memory – of the echoed clink of first fine crystal glittering – of walking into that room of plenty on strong long young legs – of her sacrificed self, toll charged entry under the skeletal hand chill against bared back – of her young manicured nails gleaming lightly on that proud turkey-necked man languidly leering her among them – more than he had any right to touch- beyond any natural right to handle. Memory rippling running as windswept waves – of lacivious heads staring - at her - lithe and suddenly stunning in her still-store-tagged dress. Just two hours agreed, a quick ask for settle in the hallway and now out in the cold navied night, in the dappled moon silvered darkness – that oak tree appearing as scornful sentinel sent confused from its roots to stand witness to her hurtling headlong path – “Trouble?” a voice drifts distantly from Mars dripping into the pooling blood in the navied night as crystal shatters and all fades to undappled certain solid forever black. 















Thursday, March 8, 2012

Return to Lumina



Return to Lumina

Go my child
Untouched
Into the blaze
of all that could
have been and
never will come
to be
Go my child
Vanish from
womb to stardust
Back to blazing
Lumina
Source of your
beginning
This Earth too
solid for translucent
transcendent unborn
silvered spirit you
leaving only your
footprint on my heart




Seen



In ephemeral land of misted vagary
Edged shapes root and fly
Above all in rounded lumina
The all seeing silvered eye

In response to - MadKane's call for Limericks Honoring today International Women's Day


  1. International day of woman it is
    honor by each  her and his
    Remember this day
     no matter which way
    all born from a womb not a whiz 
    Now whizzes essential tis true
    In getting things started on cue
    Yet a shout and a squirt
    Are but a blipped  blurt
    On the landscape that brought you to you 

  2. Was a small bairn less than three
    Fascinated with his mum’s swelling belly
    When he found out a baby was growing inside
    He said with a grinning pure possible pride
    That he’d switch and not a man but a woman he’d be
    The young mum had raised him sweet and so dear
    Without a hint of gender constraining bar here
    Looked at her bright eyed small son
    knew the time had so early begun
    The creative input of father made clear 
  3. A woman’s hand rocks the cradle - all that
    But wears also on head many a hat
    From draped burka flowed land
    To conducting a band
    A woman is far more off her rocker  than that!

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

After


In Bed The Kiss, by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec




After

After tumbled tangling
They nestle in soft sheets
Ringed fingers
Forgotten in warm flesh
Under cover


Saturday, March 3, 2012

Shadow Mama .... and In the Land of Admonish ....






Shadow Mama…

There she comes – coatless -chilled–walk-in-wind hair tousled tumbling into too wide, too white eyes – leaning against that metal reception desk the smell of her night-work  kitchen clinging in her clothes. An earlier turned-away - returned blissfully proudly unaware of the determined downturned mouths – the averted eyes filled with admonish – simply clutching her contracting belly swollen with the persistent fullness of her urgent unmet but already known daughter- and in the quiet of shadow judgment speaks in the clear voice she prefers in their presence insisting only on a single clean woolly blanket from the stacked pile upon which to lie while she waits for life to arrive. 










In the Land of Admonish....



In the Land of Admonish the young girl rises from her closeted corner - 
motherless daughter silently slipping coatless between cold shadows cradling the 
finally unfettered fullness of her hot urgent swollen belly -surrendering the 
night to strangers to return emptied through the still dark kitchen, unshed  
tears  pouring in the protective  privacy she always prefers - taste of metal in 
her scream swallowed mouth, thoughts woolly tangled tumbling in her mind, she 
rests as a tepid dawn trails cool unaware fingers across the awakening forever-
different day




Thursday, March 1, 2012

In the glow


Poets United Thursday Think Tank - Rebirth 3-1-12




In the glow

In the glow
of chaos swirling
from the brush of
butterfly wings
to cataclysm rises
from the confines of
ash behind barbed wired
smokestacks to the
lap of clear aqua waters
on a manicured fingertip
In the glow of chaos swirling
Each to the other connected
Through the tempest of time
Rising from each cindered soul
Floating from buildings terrible
Tumble into bottomless eyes of big bellied
Children's – sunsoaked run in suburban sprinklers
In summer eves that melt into
Arctic airless black
In the glow from
first outraged scream to last shuddered sigh
All that has been, is, and will be
From this besotted bare bone sharded
Unfamiliar landscape whirling in joyous
Confident abandon the constant
Shimmering configuration of a single slivered spark
In the glow