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