A litte note about adding friends...

I spent time over inviting each of you
with a special message - this is true
I have a feeling that this was all for naught
I do not think more than a few actually my invite caught!


If you would like to be 'Blogger Connect friends' I have sent new
invitations... please excuse the lack of a warm message as it is 
difficult to type with my eyes closing and my head threatening to
bang itself asleep on the keyboard! 

Say yes to death

Say yes to death

Say yes to death

Embrace the end

coming surely as satin ribbon

Flows through fingers feeling

The spool suddenly spun

Say yes to death

Embrace the end

Not as some sorcered spectre

Scythe sullen syncophant

Say yes to death

Embrace the end

As a gentle misunderstood

Reminder

To shout joyously

Yes!

To

Life

With each borrowed breath

in the Field of Anguish

in the Field of Anguish

In the Field of Anguish a young round bellied girl-woman walks without volition

stumbling, soft bare feet tremble on damp earth, volcanic shocks surround, in

inescapable embrace, rising deep within,  a single purposed  searing spark

flares,  in a conflagration of womb filled  flame. Her hard held frozen serenity

surrenders into panicked run as all boundaries known  shimmer permeable,

surreal,  and at the precipice of crescendoed inescapable consequence fall - as

she slides through the sodden scream soaked  field of Anguish into the silent

gentle sun slanted Meadow of Bliss - sweet velvet grass cradling new life, each

sense focused in this peace stilled moment silent but for that solitary sparkled

cascading cerulean cry of fresh life born from the now forgotten 

Field of Anguish.     

The road not really wanted to be taken and later thoughts

The road not really wanted to be taken and later thoughts

Father was an adventurer took us on a narrow Scott Paper forest-lumber trail in deepest Maine dark and barely wide-enough for our car

Mother in the front seat dimness falling all around her held tightly to the door handle feet clenched up on the dash and shouted she did not like this – Stop! it was too dark, too far!

"TURN THE CAR AROUND" SHE SHRILLED "I CANNOT STAND THIS DARK!"

FATHER SMILED AND SAID "RELAX THERE IS NOWHERE TO TURN OR PARK."

"BACK UP THEN!  GET ME OUT OF THIS (flippin) SCOTT PAPER FOREST PASS

And so dear reader, it is such gentle thoughts, that still inevitably whisper and drift 
whenever I wipe my a _ _ _!

On the road to awakening

On the road to awakening…

wake to the sense of self – count the numbers

of my years – shake the shock – manacle the melancholy

turn in the softness of feathered bed to the gentle winding

road - to the cool place within – scented with something unnamed

frangipangi, an incense tree – something spicy and soft, surround

greenery draped dripping in splendid scented abundance over simple

cedared shack sides shining in shafted filigreed light - comfort cooing

in the emerald wetted greenery – clean perfectly calibrated air – 

deep breaths -cool water poured on the burning parts, 

deep breaths, embracing strength of presence kneads the tight parts – 

deep breaths – flow - loose- ready - now

for the road I am supposed to accept as real – open eyes and smile ...

4 Poems about Friends of Friends

In the land of Friends of Friends

In the land of friends of friends

There so-called allies bump and

meet and smile limpid smiles

In the land of friends of friends

Safety sanctioned social

equanimity –  yet footfalls

separate and strangeness drifts

In the echoed land of friend of friends

Where surrendered secrets slip

in intimacy as second handled commodity  

********************************************

The Other Woman

She was sleek

and polished

glowing from bottom

To top

Designed and designered

Chatting up the dear one

Prompting peals

of manufactured laughter

From the dear one

Whose claim check

For such things disdained

Dissolved –

Damp dust in an open palm

***********************************************

his other friend

He said

she was

a friend

then again

he thought

that about

me too

She apparently

was a

friend to his

lips, his thrusting

tongue, his hands

in her hair

in his car

that once

drove me

around the block

when I asked

**************************************

Fourth Grade

Her name was Karen

Her hair was golden

and she had cornflower

blue eyes – my father

called them this

and he was an artist

and knew color

and she was my

friend – apple cheeked

and sweet too

like the time she

came in and told

my family we all

looked “homely”

meaning “homey” and

blushed bright red

when she realized

her mistake

that was in third grade

In fourth she met

Jimmy and he was

a “hunk” on our

private out of school

vocabulary list

he was the first

boy she ever liked

being so quiet

and shy – you

could tell he liked

her corn-flower blue

eyes as mine burned

green and at lunch

time on the second

day I sat down

right next to Jimmy

and being far more

experienced in the

world of boys

stared directly

into his eyes

and drew him away

she never said anything

and I never forgot

nor could reason why…

One Single Impression - Prompt 204 - Smile

intoned in trilled song
though heart may be (bleed) breaking
through all a still smile

In Ashen - Wordle #40

In Ashen

In the graying City of Ashen they tell of times when young

Sister Knack rose - one early dew struck dawn, rose

early between the crush of sisters one on each side

and from neath her pillow palmed the purloined Whispering

Charm with purest instinct for passions urges fire wished her

sallow sisters light and heat and flame of purpose, implored

with eyes squinched shut -please- until flung scald wide at bony shards 

of sudden cindered sisters struck her naked arms in their drift swirling

the cold room as rose petal scatter about her head lighting her

small mystic shoulders -  in that bed alone that morning in the

graying City of Ashen where they tell the story as warning

of colors conflagration

Chariots around the corner

Chariots around the corner


Swing low
Swing high
Sweet Chariots
White horses
Taking you home
Taught me the song
as a tiny curled haired
little girl essed into
your side on the couch
where we listened
to music so loud
the the apartment
walls shifted
your paintings
and my heart trembled

Swing Low
Swing High
I sung - woman
now, kneeling
on your bed fingers
intertwined with yours
No chariots
cornered the
bedsheets on
that hot august day
You on high
white pillows
gentle sighs
of sweet oxygen
our metronome
You, my still strong
raven haired father.
I never felt the bones
that sent the
others skittering
from the room
only muscle
and brawn and
beauty still yesterday
as all fell softly silent
hours melting you in morphine
mist as you lifted your arms
and to the remembered
violin concerto of
my tiniest girlhood
you began to conduct yourself
with eyes closed, a satiated smile glowing
you raised up, turned up your head in ecstasy
and on a long apricot scented sigh - stepped
Elsewhere
I felt your chest and three final crisp crescendoed thumps

Concerto concluded.

Goodbye,
Daddy
Goodbye.

Red penned

Red penned

in the slanted light of the teachers’ room she sat
paper flat before her bleeding -she patted an
invisible escaped strand from her tied back hair
centered her glasses, straightened her white
shirted starched shoulders and waited for the
girl who had written Dere Teecher I think I can trust you
with my problem. I coold not have the baby from the bad
ting that happened wid my mama’s husbend. I cannot sleep
Pleese if you be kind like you seem you is . .. I can meet
you in the teechers’ room to talk. Thank you if you do
take your preshious time I am gratefull.

Sinceerly,

She sat in the slanting sun and watched as the door opened
And as the door opened in the slanting sun she lifted the flat
paper running in red correction and said calmly. There were
many errors in your paper to me and the assignment was to
write about a mistake in judgment. I had no choice but to
give you, as you see, an F. I think you must get assistance
with your corrections - they are many and serious.
In the slanting sun the girl took the paper from the woman
with the clear grey eyes, took the bleeding paper and said
with high head and stiff back “Thank you – I try better, for
next time,” shut the door silently behind her and walked home
again, as always –
Again.
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