PAD - Day 4. 5 "Since -------" Poems

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Since the soldiers left

it has been still

in the dusty dawn

red earth puffs

in small clouds

around the boys’

bare shins as they kick

a Coke can

left behind

and look over their

shoulders before they

laugh – waiting for

whatever will whirl

in dusty days to come

~

Since you know it all

tell me

why when I wake

there is a hiccup of

dread drifting from your

side of the bed

tell me

why ice tendrils

trail my spine

and I hold my

breath to quiet

my heart dully

pounding portents

I chase with imagined

scenes of peace

tell me

why I see you

shape shifting

in sleep – rising

on a naked elbow

steel barrel at my

quivered chest

Since you know it all

tell me when my

golden boy transformed

to the unpredictable

monster I feel breathing

unexploded rage beside

me wrapped in our duvet

sleeping – for now

tell me

~

Since you asked

the floor boards

creak at night

the curtains

flutter when

there is no

breeze

from the corner

of my unsleeping

eye I see a shape

that looks familiar

I suppose all things

considered I am

fine

since you asked

~

Since she married

she wakes in

early morning

the sun glinting

on her ring

and hugs herself

before the sweet

sleeping hump of

covers turns and

takes her places

she never imagined

waiting at the end

of the aisle

~

Since you split my lip

I learned that blood
does taste like copper
pennies and that it is
possible for you to cry
copious tears in my lap
as I hold your hand and
notice that your knuckles
are swollen around small
cuts where my teeth hit
Since you split my lip
I dry your tears with a
dishtowel – suck the
blood back down my throat
and get you ice for your
too fast fist
and – No, there
is no need for sorry
because I truly do
know that this time
will
be
the
last

PAD – Day 3 – 6 Poems on Messages

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Message in the dark

in the quiet velvet

under the duvet

his hand moves

slowly to her turned

shoulder

slowly

in the quiet velvet

under the duvet

moves slowly

touching skin

still

cold

~

Last Words Not Needed

Upon white he reposed

a king already in state

silver mane sprinkled

with cologne colliding

with the strange scent

of apricots ripe

rasping as she leaned

in close – he said

with a smile

think we have

said it all

by this time

and she thought

she saw a wink

 ~

On lined first-grade paper

she heard

he gave notes

to girls he liked

standing straight

at the wardrobe

she waited

all three plus

feet

of her

waiting

until he came

to hang his

puffy jacket

so close

she felt

the cold

warming

she bent

to tie her

shoe and

when she

looked up

with a smile

he was –

gone

sitting in his seat

talking to fake Francine

No note today

~

Waiting

On aquamarine shores

sun shot to hazy

horizon I watch

the rolling azure

searching for a

bobbing bottle

of mythic magic

messaging my

to be taken

next step

~

Lunchtable Language

They sit

three little

crows

cackling

softly as

she approaches

with her tray

and begins with

a smile to take

the empty seat

but the chirping

stops and they

simply stare with

beady cold eyes

until she moves

away – tipping her

tray with trembling

fingers as they

cackle – cacophonously

as stew drips down

her new school shirt

~

In the flotsam and the filament floating

                      in the dander and the light

                                     in dreams and hopes

                                                         and memories

                                                                           it all

                                                                              comes

                                                                                         d

                                                                                              o

                                                                                                 w

                                                                                                     n

                                                                                                             to

                                                                                                                  this …. 

                                                                                                                            :)

PAD - Day 2. (4 "Voyage" Poems)

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Never Made the Reservation

There is a bright light

at the end

white walls wiped

clean in cold air

whirling as they

scream and shout

something about

someone pushing

and I bobbing

in languid waters

peacefully removed

from this odd intrusion

suddenly wrenched

and thrown naked

cold, confused and

center stage

on a trip

I never booked

~

Unknown Tripping

Not sure where I’m going

Not sure where I’ve been

Not sure what I’ve seen

Or overlooked again

Only sure I keep on moving

Going sideways or forward

Who knows

and yet

The ground moves beneath me

Not yet my time to stop, figure it out

and infinitely set

~

The Big Trip

My father was an

artist of canvas

and the mind

painting in large

swathes and miniscule

detail the wonder of

the world for

a tiny child who

co-piloted beside

him as he floored

the pedal and flew

us down a just

sun-risen empty

parkway over

bridges of sparkling

water to the city -

sat beside him

on a quiet dock

with the the only

sounds the gentle

slapping of water

and the squeeze

of oils from tubes

of paints

voyages tangible

and painted on canvas

in my mind and heart

all real

until I sat beside him

stood behind him as

I felt his toes on the edge

of the world and he

before me lifted his hands

to music I heard banging

echoes through my being

and embraced the vastness

of the Universe that I knew

he could see spread before

him – just before he released

his grip and flew

on a journey

booked for only one

this time

 ~

Submarine Races

Come fly with us

they called from their

forbidden car

their hair was slick

with gel

they wore

only white

tee shirts

and tight

jeans

the air hot

with summer

we – my friend

and I, in short

shorts and long

skinny legs

climbed into

the back seat

the wind in our

hair on our way

to see

submarine races

at the pier

throwing our mother’s

cautioned banners

to the wind

behind our fourteen

year old selves

~ 

PAD - Day 1. Two for Tuesday - Write a "beginings and endings poem" - 1 + 3

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Grace Notes

That first cry bouncing on porcelain walls

First note of the concerto that crescendos

rushing so often to a seried sigh

and all between shimmered glimmering,

grace

notes

~

Lightly

Heated kleig lit nights

of flung bedcovers to the floor

fold in time to crisp sheets

still cool in soft morning light

as they lie as two letters

slipped neatly into an

envelope together

~

Where and When

She holds one chubby hand

on each parchment cheek

and stares eye to eye

“where did I begin?”

she asks sparkling

a giggle waiting to tumble

“where do I end?”

Grandma says

eyes fading soft

one feels the velvet

fingers pressing

the other the lips lifting

both share the smile

slipping into a kiss

~

Good Morning

Feel a little like George Bailey

rushing up and down the street

shouting “hallo” Benjamin Thomas

“hallo” Chev –

“hallo” Michele –

Running up and down the street

faces and figures and fantasies

past and present whirling as I

run with a grin that won’t quit

even as I see the end coming

as it always does