Tuesday, August 30, 2011

The Sunday Whirl - Wordle 17 - The Pledge

there in the tremor of the seditious enmesh
tread the footfall of the sacred tuft pledge
deep in velvet nether
to disengage from the plaster stigma that would hinder
all that is far from sporadic

The Sunday Whirl - Wordle 19 - Naked Truth

The turn of fervent truth sweeps
dust matter from the spilled vessel atop
the trunk of deceit
floating a cool breeze
on bare skins free of

Every Thing Against Me - PA Prompt

infant cheek against my breast lying free swirled in that soft air
cream chocolate pointed cat curled round  those bare ankles there
fingertips drift brush a shepherd dog gentle sleeping guardian exhalation
bare skin on laundered sheets hold frangipangi scented sun drenched exultation
beneath eyes lashly falling in suckled slumbered milky trance
turquoise sea reaches  to  swaying palms in endless sparkle glitter dance
childhood carousel dreams behind, underwrite  each unknown future day ahead
every thing against me there on the forever revolving carousel callioped bed

Saturday, August 20, 2011

The Sunday Whirl - Wordle 18 - Dark Night -

In quiet desperation
the strangers did spin
to slouch in corners of
the cracked alley
cleansed of all hope
but for the faint sparkle
of fragmented granite,
cracked with the cheap
revolution of wasted
as ash
from an endless
screw turning the

Monday, August 15, 2011

PA wednesday prompt - School - 4 Poems

There in the dancing dust
motes of whirling ever after
sun shafted light
sparkles books lined
limnimg the light of future
fluttering in the rustle
of limitless leaves yet


Amy On The Table

There in the middle of the room
Atop the shining floor clean broomed
A table moved for all to see clear
Bright faces gathered round to hear

What is this that you see up there?
Climbed table top by this placed chair
Was Amy all could plainly see
Instructed there by Mrs. B.

No, not Amy there you plainly see
You see a case of charity
Trumpeted loudly Mrs. B.
We give this girl her milk money

While all of you bring in your dues
And pay your way in ones and twos
Amy alone gets a free ride
All because of a lack of pride

As pale Amy climbed down with care
Some reached for her and hugged her there


In the hot sun blazing they schooled
in louvered mobile buildings
tiny children people bright eyed and
boys in khaki pants, knife creased
girls in maroon knee grazing skirts 
all in shirts bleached, starched, 
 bright-white, ironed stiff
good children taught in the “Brit” way
hands folded expecting the stick 
for a wrong response
second graders having learned the ways
back in first when they were new
But then there was
sparkling eyes, dancing footed spirit
crammed into his uniform
confined to a seat, bursting,
jiggling,  giggling, 
A real teacher would have stocked
his legs each day
A real teacher would not have
smiled and had him promise
to be good for just this one year 
A real teacher would have expected
at years’ end handing 
out report cards like diplomas
that Holder, eyes flashing, 
feet stomping, would  
in righteous indignation
shout in the blaze of the betrayed 
this year!

A real teacher would have
told him there was more,
so much more to come


The Staircase

His name was Donald, he sat in the back
in a long black leather coat
On that 80 degree first day of ninth grade
though he should have been long gone
he carried only a single new black
 looseleaf binder filled with laminated
litanies, he ran a long finger over and
mumbled under his breath, as if in prayer
alone in the back of the room
he filled out no tiny card of identification
He had his long black coat
stinking slightly of summer and sweat
trickles running down the corner of his
temples as he ran that long finger over
‘his lessons"
Listed as Donald
he raised his head 
only to "Justice" his new name
told by the binder-givers
that this "white-devil" school
designed to corrupt
He failed each class, appeared
as an ancient spectre
closing his ears and mind, as he had promised
until he heard her
read Langston, and put his long foot
on that first crystal stair
and began to climb in his now stinking coat
hulking in the back, eyes lit
hand on the closed binder, he smiled a small smile
another day he accepted a piece of lined paper
and wrote in the block lettering of a child, man-sized pain
spilling faster each day
his mother was called,  waited for
grim news and heard of this writing
that filled his binder clipped  page after page clipped in front of
his laminated hate 
he passed each class
until he climbed that June graduate staircase
as "most improved student" accepting a savings bond
and a diploma smiling in that 
white shirt, and caramel suit that shone
outside in the sunlight, his mother beamed
teacher cried as Donald and Justice
self-served stood 
atop that crystal staircase


Saturday, August 6, 2011

poetic aside Wednesday prompt suggested a " normal" poem....here are 3

Summer Dinner

Time will come and sun will fade
breeze blown on hot skin as
supper drifts
there sitting father
black hair shaken back
from smiling eyes
mother just finishing
a laugh
little brother waiting
one small leg dangling
off the edge of chair
as we finish
listening for the
bell of the iced cream truck
coming soon


2. “Just one of those things??”

Pain grabs her from her sleeping bed
Kicks  her to the kitchen counter
Clutching her swollen belly as warm blood
Drips down thighs and a three-year-old 
Awoken almost-brother asks  
In high pitched wind-chimed clarity  
No more baby?

Collateral Damage  

phantasmic creation
flushed brushed on 
would be mother face
grinning little girl joy
hand stroking  
bump she clearly sees 
and they group-grinned 
touch in turn
wondrous with

rapid drum-beat
bouncing joyfully off
sterile walls
sound track to 
fragile as bright tissue paper
passed carefully trusted hand to hand   
fingers crossed by 
superstitious sentinels
not breathing "baby"  
word yet

vials  of blood
crimson drawn 
returned in black and white
all clear - one day
ambiguous another
Chorionic villus sampling 
friendly as ubiquitous red Rx signs 
a 'rule out,' a few cells
an extra-special-be-surety-bond  
nauseous, ravenous, yawning
waiting for 

flushed cheeks, 
sparkled eyes, 
hand brushing belly
a doctor visit... 
all is well! 
heart beat strong,  strong, strong

time ticks, secretly, silently
draining joy until 
devastation descends
a piano breaking free-falling
from a penthouse  floor
CVS, viper in Eden
slicing safety straps
slithering venom through 
phone lines, sibilantly hissing     
not, not, not 

not normal 
to love devastation
to proceed with calamity    
to embrace disaster growing
into certified fruition
horror is the ungrown baby  
rather than the baby born in hopeful joy
then embraced in terrified tears of 
revealed anomaly
"Make  the appointment' they say
"Just one of those things"
"Happens every day"   

hemorrhaged possibility pouring  
from a soft gut
kicked hard with a
steel toed boot
floating from nothing
to become all  

gurgled drowning gasping  
vail of  sobbing, sodden choices
sputtered wetly in unspeakable 

dead eyes dulled with  
the no choice, choice
pancaked piano
vipered steel boots

No, nothing normal
no matter what they say
in their composed, rounded vowel form  
"sign-here," paper smiles
contained derailed love detonates 
explodes in blinding conflagration
onto the pancaked pavement
where they lay scattered
shrapnel seared, glittering fractured fragments 
ever falling, piercing again and again. 
torn hearts of collateral damage

(*things beyond one's own mirror are much
larger than they seem.)