Saturday, December 31, 2011

Look for separate page of small stones each day of January 2012


Thursday, December 29, 2011



fourteen years
they sat on the
same couch
in their sagging
dreams -ubiquitous
feathered hope flying
specked in the distant
fourteen years
they sat over
tea, coffee
that occasional
shimmered goblet
of swirled wine
waiting, watching
with waning expectation
the tested flat-lined
In the early days
she would tango to him
stick held high
laughing falling
on him when
the couch and they
were new and hope-
filled cradling each
now fourteen years
later they sit on
the same -now sagged
nearly flattened couch
and the stick nods
as they blink
heart poundingly
staring at the proof
of their fresh start
they stare, blink,
tango madly across
the room and back again
ready, so profoundly
ready to begin

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

A Birthday Poem - Whorled


 Here you are from womb whirling to mountaintop majesty
 Wandering, wondering, wondrous, laughing, slip-sliding
 Infant dimple fingered hold on that slice of eternity
 In the years tumble, tempest-joy-uncertain-clear trek
 Always in soft certitude of the light of stars - sparkling
 With a clear true flame - born under, carried within and
 yours to share - from first blink of fathomless eyes
 reflecting the mountaintop from where you came, from
 where you now stand, all pinpointed celestial eternity behind
 ahead and shimmering within you, this day, as each day
 forward flooded filled with all - from first drop of sweet milk
 to sting of  bitter herbs upon the tongue, whirling, floating 
 aquamarined waters to iced-arctic whitened snowflakes
 whirling from infant milestones to the crack of a bat vibrating-
 beasts gentle lumbering, emotion-swirl beginnings, incomprehensible
 endings rolled in burgeoning intellect -until your own  
 first shimmering thoughts coalesced writ- read
 reflecting something beyond, yet within, familiared  comfort-clear,
 life-love flowing up each step of whirling, womb-walk,  
 footfall steadied with each tumbled year, to stand here today
 on the mountaintop eyes filled fathomless deep as at that first blink at the
 whirling tumbled tempested wonder of it all spread before, around
 and within you in timeless kaleidoscopic shifts of endless configuration
 Enjoy the journey and the unexpected vision of mountaintops without acme
 Revel in strong legs to climb, clear eyes to see, and the wondered whirl writ
 in unique imprimatur whorled in your infanted dimpled fingered tip reaching
 from then mystic manifestation, whirling through the considered now, into
 this mindful moment - breathe the clear cool air of your mountaintop of your
 horizonless forever 

Happy Birthday -  

Note: Last night saw The Mountaintop,  An inspirational Broadway play - imagining a mystic night before MLK'S assassination (starring  Samuel Jackson and Angela Bassett)  undoubtedly some of the imagery lingered .... 

Sunday, December 25, 2011

WORDLE #36 Peace on earth for all - within each and all on this spinning marble we all share...

Peace on earth for all -within each and all.. on this spinning marble we all share 

It fascinates me that across a continuum of cultures this is a time when love, light, peace and a sense of the shimmering power of  limitlessness possibility is celebrated -    This week's Wordle offered a few words and from them I offer a simple story of what I believe is the common human inclination for personal and collective peace for all and every across this spinning marble that we all share ... Enjoy:)


Heard there long ago all ye
a story born by heart decree
a quivered tenuous land where all lived lives in shaken, spectred anguished, Afraid
until absent of paraded tidings - Peace - arrived and softly bade
red faced babes now to nuzzle, nestle, smiling  sweet
beasts unburdened in manger slumbered on pain easy hooved feet
shepherds eyes flowed o'er ribboned flocks gathered lands a-grazing
as they in myrrh scented cinnamoned air, pondered all,  raised eyes starlit gazing
Thus a blanket of unadulterated joy floated mantling the shoulders of the land Afraid
Covering each cowered crevice of the chilled night to the dusken-gold-fingered- dawn
deep, clear, untroubled breaths joined from all,  as though an actual angel had upon them borne
banished away each fear, anguish, anxiety, animus, liquefied, as though never had been before
evaporated in the sun's rising light as each whispered in their way, "Ever will be more"
whispered all in newborn collective, calm, cooperatively, coalesced full-hearted, enthusiastic haste
each and all agreed, not one more second of sacred life, be squandered by foolish fearful waste
Heard long ago ye now listening here
the story of how natural Peace on earth triumphed over galloped fantasied fear
In the land we know still, not-as-Afraid, but as ever-flowing-milk-and-honeyed, Serenity
Cradled safe-still within the embracing willed wing of enfolded, accepted, enacted, destiny

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Papa 's Box

Papa’s Box

Mandated for centuries a plain pine box
raw wood unadorned slipping easily
into the earth from whence he came
But Papa loved mahogany spent lemon scented
Sundays oiling the whirls in the towering breakfront
the cornered Victrola on its own fringed carpet,
the twin side-tables at which he knelt to polish each
claw footed toe in turn with his white cheesecloth
and soft sable mustache brushes
In the soft late afternoon Sunday ligh
glowing golden he’d smile at the gentle shimmered
sheen of his burnished mahogany
and so – when it was time – there in place
of the mandated raw pine was Papa slipped
into the earth in solid mahogany shining
as his smile lowered into the soft earth of
that final Sunday a scent of lemon oil drifted
a filament of pure white cheesecloth lifted into the air

Sunday, December 18, 2011

WORDLE #35. In the year of the purple citizen

In the year of the purple citizen 

In the year of the purple citizen
The dream states behind reality did lag
the determined desire of luck with dermal equality now in the bag
In the year of the purple citizen
Started as a game, an idea soaring high on the fly
Each stained their own and a child's skin with honeysuckled elderberry dye
In the year of the purple citizen
From one side of the earth to the other it came tumbling true to be
In each purple dawned reality -  color did not all from trouble free
In the waning time of the year of the purple citizen
As skin returned to rainbowed variegated shimmered human hue
Each and all sighed, yet smiled,  accepting finally in consummated common view
what did and did not happen and all there was, as the last purple faded, left to do

Labels: WORDLE # 34

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Six Separate Thoughts On Magic

Fairy wing  brushes  her neck as  unicorned hooves tremble the
soft sponged earth lit clear drenched in luminous shimmer of moon-day 
breathed syllables float soft as showered chestnut blossoms settling in poem
messages from Everland....

He stands as the world spins around him
blurring colors in melted sounds all heard
clear and distinct. - loudest the small voice
pierces core of innermost ear...raw with
mumbled jumbling one singular word  
He stands as the world spins around him
flinging coupled notes into sonataed crescendo
as a jug head one minces  "Retard" in C Major"
He spins ...
Now you see it 
Now you don't 
Said Uncle Hymie
Pulling endless coins
From my ears
While Aunt yelled 

He conjured The Magician Set 
a wand, a long black swirly cape
one silk top hat, glitter in a glass jar   
The box materialized  there under  
new sock stacks. red Santa pajamas
A dented box - one end taped 
Torn open to reveal   
The wand -  drooped 
plastic cape unswirlable stiff
Glitter gone 

Give me your cackling crone and mumbly spell
Kneel down to a hope drained child - watch eyes light and well 
Transformed as you simply say " it will be better I can tell"
Make something happen go further still
Become the magic itself - as moon follows sun you will


Four-year-old-raped murdered Kaitlin
rises from her shallow fifteen-year grave
and tenderly brushes the dirt from her high arched foot
with graceful nineteen- year- old manicured fingers


Sunday, December 11, 2011

Wordle #34 - She Ran

She ran

There at river's edge ran the water clear as crystal glass sparkling crashing rapid as she chiffoned and tear swollen smacked by the whipping elements released her grip on further confabulations of the implacable cruel enigma of  the words - the words rippling in a recurring  spasm of memoried cursed pulsations. Again, and again, and again, at river's edge -his face floating over another's shoulder -  smile smirking at her chat-stopped-bedroom door-gasp " it is not all that rare" laughter falling as gravity grew weightless and the world tilted- She ran barefooted -an earring still ridiculously clutched in one hand - She ran,  through slanting rain to the straight river's edge and stood through darkened night as discarded resolutions fell about her, fallen from her running mind, until inevitably, finally first light fingered the sky and she did not wake - that last sliver of possibility  that she had slept and dreamed ran from her.  There at the river's edge the rain stopped and she, chiffoned gown clinging as second skin to her tempestuous tossed body - she simply released - hope tumbling into that crashing clear as glass rapid of icy river of crystal acknowledgment -  She tumbling weightless in the spacious sentient now, of her irrevocable release of yesterday, pouring herself  into the pulsations of the river, surrendering to the enigma thrumming in each coalesced drop repeating in its way -   " it is all not that rare" - "it is all not that rare " as light flashed the sinking soddened spark of her dishonored ring - a single songbird heedlessly trilled the new day  - soaring weightless above the tumbling running river where she flowed.                

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Those few hours - While you were gone

While you were gone
We talked
We touched
We slid melting
Ice cubes over
Sweat slick thighs
While you were gone
We danced barefoot
To the little radio
In the kitchen
Ate chocolate chip
Cookies and licked
Crumbs off our faces
While you were gone
We laughed
Softly and hard
As the light fell
We sat face to
Face and fingered
With an unwarning whir
You returned
In blaze of light and
Blaring voice
And caught us
In reimpowered
Sixty inch eye
Shamed separate
we covered ourselves
And resumed
Our silent watch
Power restored

A bit of this and that - while you were gone

A bit of this and that – while you were gone
While you were gone the little boy grew a mustache
Just for a while
While you were gone the tow-headed baby girl
Researched the seas for her masters thesis
While you were gone
Some books appeared on shelves
Bearing a familiar name
Sun rose and set in alternating configurations
Of blaze and bland
Snow fell into tsunamis, hurricanes, tornadoes
Ice-caps crumbled a bit
The air was a bit cleaner and a bit more toxic
While you were gone
The calendar melted in dali-esque delusion
And I passed you in age
While you were gone
All surreal and the same
While you were gone
The gloxinia bloomed
And the house was sold
Through the dancing dust
Of slanted sunbeams
I see you in it all
Rustling in the thrum
Of always here

Monday, December 5, 2011

Haiku to you - a small stream of consciousness collection

Haiku to you

11 before
she sleeps in 5 7 5
breathing paused at 17


In slanted  sunlight
young man waits in dancing dust
as carousel thunders

Pillows piled crisp high
Hold apricot breaths secret
Last exhalation

Cat on windowsill
Folding boneless in sunlight
Origami breathes


Leaf slips grip from tree
Suicide by seasonal

Chestnut horse stamps breathe
on dead air of frozen fields

under blood cover
infant player screams sliding
into awaiting  home base

koolaid sugared lips
touch, stick, separate
first kiss remembered

scalpel slits tender flesh
exposing rotted fruits growing
ready for harvest

crimson cardinal
lights on frozen pond alone
prizing Spring’s warming

whimpered end of sigh
in the final curtain call
crow caws to darkness

Chrysalis cracking
under weight of butterfly
velvet opening

I am haikued out
still in syllabic sentience
I am haikued out

Sunday, December 4, 2011

WORDLE #33 Sun Tumbled

It was subtle, the way the best of an amorous mission shall always be, laden with vanilla creamed dreams of perfect completion - She had no inkling,  as he in  mid December dawn traversed the frost crusted ground and  stood on the precipice of their unfolding future. As sun fingered the sky he bowed a gentle genuflect to all lovers who had balanced before on this  trivet of he, she and possibility and a poem, his poem  penned in hand - knocked, as dawn broke shimmering this forever remembered day.

Sun tumbled.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

PAD DAY 30 Against All Odds - FLY BOY

Fly Boy
He wanted to fly
Nineteen years old
Clouds called
He wanted to fly
Just a quick BP  test
revealed his secreted
suicidal heart
thrust him fast
toward those
who sawed his ribs
opened his heart
and saw they could
do nothing
zipper stitched his
smooth chest as he
in morphined misted radiance
blissfully buoyantly bounced
to his now tenuous life
time parceled in months
Nineteen years old
He wanted to fly
Now lucky to see
Twenty two or three
Against all odds 
At sixty still
He wanted to fly
When the clouds
opened for him
in a quiet bedded
room above the gentle
whir of oxygen
heard clear the nearing
roar of a readied engine
as he sighed
smiled and exhaled
himself beyond
the held horizon
lift off

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Hurrah... This was more a marathon ...

Sunday, November 27, 2011

WORDLE # 32 - Spinning Still

Spinning Still

In the morning rush of spinning untidy thoughts, the fragile fulcrum tilts
With an unwanted shudder subliminal messages sent rustle rise, sneering 

At my struggle back toward mellow, you sleep on, satisfied, smug, ruddy
In sunshine spilled on rumpled quilt my gullible face flashes, shimmers, stills

Clear now, in the morning rush of spinning untidy thoughts, truth tumbles fulcrum freed

Thursday, November 24, 2011

PAD DAY 23 Empty Chairs Around White Linen

Empty chairs around white linen
We used to pick up Bubby
Drive into city traffic
And at evening’s end
Drive back through city
Traffic she with the drumstick
She loved in her bag returned
Home to sleep in her insisted
Own bed
Leaving behind a ceramic clown
For cotton balls a gaudy Statue of
Liberty pin or like gifted treasures
We used to have my father debonair
Hair thick a wave dipping close grazing
Left eye usually winking at one of
The girls or Bubby
We used to wait for Mother platinum
hair sparkling laughing and drawing a
deck of cards from a good leather bag
that never left her lap for any takers
from turkey coma’d marks
We used to have my mother long fingered
pulling at the turkey  -  cigarette in her mouth
dangling surreptitious ashes that never fell
We used to have controlled chaos
Stories spilling onto into one another
As the inevitable child dripped something
Stainful onto the white tablecloth
Fresh and forgiven then
Faded and storied the next
We used to have -
Now we remember
And give thanks
with a moist eye
Reading the faint forever
Past on the white linen of today  

Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate and to those for whom this is simply November 24th thankfulness really does not actually require any particular signifying holiday...     

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

PAD DAY 21- Two for Tuesday Fruit/Vegetable


He was walking down the street
On the between boy and man crack
Feet tapping lightly, sun shining on his back
Feet tapping lightly, sun shining on his back
Man on the corner face squeezed up in a frown
Looked him up and looked him down
Standing on the corner like a big old darkened dirty boot
Spit on the sidewalk mumbling weird about some kind of fruit


Mysterious ancient crimson
passion seeded filled
Imperious in a crystal bowl
Contemptuous of barbaric ways
Cool to creamed spinach nearby spilled


In a tree from flowers burst
On the scene the very first
From symbolic enticement to
Ensconced in a pie a brown bag lunch present due

Oh how, now humbled, did this fall happen to delectable you?

Sunday, November 20, 2011

PAD Day 20 - Best Ever...

Best Ever Pain
Since a wee one
at brain blowing headaches
at iodine on a blood soaked knee

Told “Rise above this pain
or what will you do
when it comes time
to have your own baby”

Finally the day arrives floating on
turquoised watered sun
Exquisite pain long awaited finally begun
Gleeful scream answers expectation’s call
to pass this watermelon expanded
child is the best joy-fullest joke of all

As the pressure mounts
contained for eons – now melted in this turquoise water sun
bursts with this babe the loudest purest bestest laugh
mesmerized manic incredulity drenched in fathomless incomparable soaring atom sparkling fun


The Best Ever

No surf crashed
against craggy rocks
No tide pulled and
flowed back to sand
The world did not shake
But it sparkled for years
Remembering with a secret smile

WORDLE # 31 - Blood Diamonds

Under the African sky mindless they toil in trapped silence
All fleeting spark drowned in vacant eyes
Oblivious of the village down the road of the planet whirling
Under the fires of bare feet burning on 
brilliant as ice diamond smolder in blood dark hands     

WORDLE # 31 - Indifference

Drowned in smolder oblivious of the mindless silence
Trapped as diamond ice falls from the sky drowned spark
incapacitated obviating any possible escape from her now
Insignificant planet lost in the undulating Universe of his infinite indifference

Saturday, November 19, 2011

PAD Day 19- Suspicious Minds - 4 Poems




In my early morning bed
Gyrating man in the
White suit mesmerizes
With thrusting pounds
Springing the trap of
calm cool light
Into a sweated morning
Coupled conflagration

Who does this
to a poet
and why…..

clears mind
with cool water

 *prompt included steamy 1970 young Elvis video



She brings pie
Covered in white linen
Covered in white linen
She brings pie
And a smile
Rings the bell
Hears someone say
From the door’s other side
From the door’s other side
Rings the bell
Hears a shushed
She and her pie
Can go straight to Hell
Standing there pie in hand
White linen and heart flutters
In wind of malice mutters



There it comes again
Every morning on the train
That practiced smile
Harbinger of future pain



New moves that oooh so work
Learned from a book
Believed only by a naive jerk



Does this black line stop me in my track
Damming the flow of words frustratingly back
Why am I after four years suddenly posting too fast
How long will this robotic…not Robertic editor last?
Why the change from the format before
Okay some glitches there for sure
But in this foisted upon us particulated, separated, monitored blog
A plan to disrupt our community?  Daze us with a corporate focused fog?
It will not happen though, listen up anonymous they, whoever ” they ” might be
For we continue loyal, connected, poeming to and for each other and RLB
Determined to support our independence within our interdependent community
Gone may be the merry lightning back and forth repartee
But lingers the soul unextinguished of the PA Street of another day

*Writer’s Digest recently reformatted Poetic Asides

Thursday, November 17, 2011



Under the Hat
Under the party hat
Bright smiles and all that
Stitches on bald head
No one can gasp at


Layer by layer
Peels drop to the bedroom floor
Sweet juicy orange

Slowly each fabric covered button
Slid between pale buffed crescent nails
Perfectly manicured trembling
Open as a curtain
On opening night before an expectant audience
Of one
Reveal the healed gashed chest
Smooth as cool marble
To his reaching hands


Round about the waist
Food has lost its taste
The stick says no, no, no
The face contradicts with knowing glow

On a ship in the middle of the sea
At a fancy black tied swirled dress party
Over a back fence
In a shop counting out some pence
Happen here or there
Always without care
The tongue slides and then a blip
An irretrievable, sudden slip


“Some of my best friends are just like you”
Say they
Exposing what is really true

Any Flag
under fingernails brushed clean
home again after whatever arena scene
clapped upon the back for serving one’s country well
horror of blooded stain; the soldier’s private hellish tell

Under the blanket of
Impending death riding
The coming frigid air
Burrowed deep
In patient poise
The rose sleeps

Showers in the Morning
Joyous baby boy
Kicking feet up in the air
Golden shower arcs


In a shaking withered hand
Tightly crumpled the month’s last
Five dollar bill pressed into the
Hand of the empty-eyed boy
Huddled on the cold corner


Under the furrowed brow
Giggles bursting now



For some revealed in each tumbled dancing sun dust mote
For others in a book where it has been wrote
For another on the magic fingernails of the newly born
Or atop a craggy mountaintop at purple crimsoned dawn
Hints heard about in a bush that did brightly burn
Others acknowledge all above
See also a human deficit in grace, compassion, love
Scattered ashes still gathering in time’s slow
Far too much left to coalesce, feel and learn

Others acknowledge all above
See also a universal deficit in grace, compassion and love
Scattered ashes still gathering in time’s slow turn
Far too much left to coalesce, to feel, to learn

The Reveal

Music pounds through and past
Pulsing just post- pubescent wetted unshaved lip
As satin thong lowers impossibly lower still on a gyrating hip

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

PAD DAY 16 - Once Upon A Season

Once Upon A Season
Once upon a season
a turquoise sea beckoned
“Come” as white sanded
beaches cradled soles
still untouched by hardened
Once upon a season
Lavished in perfumed
air – friends guitars
sweet folk songs
swollen belly naked
in the navied night
dancing to the water
barefoot in joy besotted sand
Once upon a season
Shimmering and bright
Sun blinded each and every danger
under that lop-sided charming grin
kept the secreted surprise until it was
ready to begin
hair wrapped around the wrist
pulled hard at the root loosed torn
as air floated over fist bruised lips
kiss cradling close a suckling newborn
Once upon a season
hibiscus blossomed belief in love
blood washed sea clean each day through
brushed with Edenesque possibility still pulsing as though true
Once upon a season in the way that seasons inevitably come to do
the season slipped –
softly calloused sole
kicked open a providential door floating in all that sun sea shimmered blue
as blackened, but-cleared eyes lit on the ‘future once-upon-a-season’
and babe safe on hip, laughter balming on bruised lip, that soul danced directly through

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Kindness - PAD Day 13

In a “This n That Shop”

He was no more than seven or eight
perhaps a smallish ten
you know the kind rumpled
hair, arms and legs still thin
eyes downturned from grownups
now darting panic plain
had he five dollars
for a gift slapped his
pockets twisted round
his reddened neck
ran out the door and
“Had five dollars for
my father – he just
came home today”
Wanted to buy him
something – more he
couldn’t say words
caught in his throat
a grownup moved on
by – but another had
a crumpled bill thrown
into a corner right nearby
“I think that might be it
in the corner over there”
said the woman casually
so carefully at him not to stare
continuing her looking at
a this and a that
as relief flooded the air
ringing with the small voice
wondrous mumble
“can you imagine that?”


At the Littlest League Field

He swung again and
and again
at the ball
on the rubber
planted T
but only
when he hit it
did his mother
seem to ever see

Wordle # 30 Bees

It was the bees
was all John from the cleaning service could stammer say
biceps trembling -strength sapped he could only finger point rapidly as a school-girl
jabbing the air - eloquent in this new stammered terror
this new surreal world tipped to slide off balance
safety skittering to illusion as there in her swivel chair sat
the lady of the house
indelicately slumped impossibly motionless
each coral nail in perfect shimmer in the morning sunlight
it was the bees circling her throat bright as a lover’s necklace
the bees buzzing in that closed bloodless room


Thursday, November 10, 2011

Side by Side PA Day 10 - Different Perspective

       Side                              by                  Side

In the dark-pillowing his face           Grabbing at her touching her
In satin nubs of angel's wings           in all the places 
Velvet accommodation to his            Gone to fat
nibbling lips                                   Reveling in her shame
promising as always safe                  She stares in the dark
passage through the night               
He shifts, sighs, slips a                     humiliated hostage
hand around the waist grown            of his calculated cruelty
fuller, gentler, all erased angles 
Softly, softly, he burrows                 rigid she lies
sighs and sleeps                               awake                
Wow....what a lovely comment on the poem lovely in fact that in my haste to publish it I hit so until Amy has the time to repost if she so wishes.
Here is a lovely introduction to In The Time of The Dappled Horse..with deep appreciation

Amy has left a new comment on your post "Wordle #29 In The Time of The Dappled Horse":

Pearl Girl, this was simply astonishing. You tapped into a synapse somewhere deep, deep in your mind; "pitch perfect delirium"? Aahhh. Just great writing, truly. Amy

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Wordle #29 In The Time of The Dappled Horse

In the time of the dappled horse
Air crisp clear and strident full with the crystal call of fall
Entranced the young with pitch perfect
Delirium, heated the passion of blood to
Pounding swish, as a swoon soared 
each mighty chestnut tree
While the wind in tight pleat of contained heat
Did at last reignite, burst, and shower the land 
With white blossoms, piercing the sullen shell 
of sunlit day and navy night until it did seem each
thundering the land in the unbridled gallop of lust, love, luster 
Luminous each countenance once lit did each in turn   
Emit the collective cry of life lived with each blown 
In the time, that time, of the dappled horse