Run, Rabbit

This is a poem I wrote for a very special friend. Please visit Photograph Prose to read it and see the accompanying photo by Diana Lee. You may leave comments on the Photograph Prose site. Thanks. -lolamouse

Run, Rabbit

also submitted for The Poetry Pantry at Poets United

Monsters

Childhood monsters 

image source

Can be vanquished

With a flashlight

A magic wand

Another glass of water

Some monsters are appeased

With rituals

No toes sticking out of the covers

And it won't nibble them off

Flush the toilet,count to ten, and run back to bed

It can't get you until eleven

Even the ones who dwell under the bed

Or in the closet

And have pointy teeth and yellow eyes

Won't cross the threshold

Of a parent's bedroom

Even they follow the rules

Then one day you overhear

A hushed conversation

While playing with Legos

Or coloring with your new crayons

You hear the word "monster"

And the grown-ups faces don't look quite right

One day a neighbor girl

Teases you and says 

"Better not go outside by yourself-you'll get raped."

And you ask your mother what that means

And then you wish you hadn't 

But you can't take it back now

It's 1974

The grown-ups have that look again

And you ask who Adam Walsh is anyway?

Then you learn

That the monsters are real

And they don't play by the rules now.

submitted for the Thursday Think Tank, #46, Monsters at Poets United

Who Says I'm Not Stylish?

Shay, aka Fireblossom, from Shay's Word Garden , has graciously bestowed upon me this Stylish Blogger Award. Definitely check out Shay's poetry-it rocks hard! There is not a clunker to be found. This is poetry I would actually buy, were it for sale (hint, hint).

According to the rules of this here award, I have to scrape my psyche for another 7 fun facts to tell you about myself (chomping at the bit, are we?!!)
Let's play a game (another inspiration from Fireblossom)- 6 Truths and 1 Lie:
I'll list 7 things about myself. Six of them will be true and one of them will be a lie. You can guess which is the lie.

1. I sucked my thumb until at least the age of 12.
2. I have never smoked.
3. I once had a story published in Playgirl magazine under the pseudonym "Lola."
4. One of my good friends in high school is a Tony Award nominee.
5. At this time I have bright fuchsia (Power to the Resistance, Doug!) strands of hair
6. I have had some of my poems published
7. I worked for one day as a telemarketer.

Okay, time to guess! Which is the lie? I'll post the answer in a few days.

Me and the Beasts

Each night I sleep with three furry beasts

They snuffle, they tussle, they snore

They covet the covers, they purloin the pillows

I often get pushed to the floor!

Each night I sleep with three furry beasts

It's so cozy and warm when they're near

But sometimes things get a little too close

Which one is that licking my ear?!!

Each night I sleep with three furry beasts

One's big, and two are quite small

But with three men and me in one little bed

It's a wonder that I sleep at all!

submitted for Thursday Poets Rally 42

To fulfill my obligation for the Perfect Poet Award, I nominate M.A.S. at http://scribbledit.blogspot.com/   Check out his blog for some very interesting and cool poetry.

Thank you to Thursday Poets Rally!!!

Don't Forget to Feed the Cat, Dr. Schrödinger

image courtesy of Magpie Tales

Worlds divide

With each decision we make

Splintering fractals

With each turn of the cylinder

Left or right

The kaleidoscope beads shift

Morphing one pattern

Into another

A few degrees clockwise

There's a bit more red

And you're a suburban mom with three kids

A few degrees counter

And some blue appears

You're a dancer struggling with an eating disorder

Make a complete circle

And now 

You see more green

You're the top telemarketer for credit card insurance

And you still live with your mom 

And a collection of comic books and porn

When you see one pattern

Where are the others?

When a choice is made

Are the others gone?

Or are they just waiting elsewhere?

submitted for Magpie Tales 63

Transitions

image courtesy of Greg Laychak

The homes of old people smell

Of cooked cabbage

And decorative soaps

But that's better than the stale urine

And disinfectant smell

Of nursing homes

I wonder whether they can smell it on themselves

The odor of decay

Dependence

Approaching death

How does the peach tree judge

When a peach has passed from lush to

Overripe to

Rot?

Is the peach aware 

Of the moment it will be dropped from the tree

To the ground below?

submitted for One Shoot Sunday at One Stop Poetry

The Critic

image source

The critic gives a bad review

Another play won't get its due

"The leading actor tried too hard

He isn't worthy of the Bard!"

The actor's back on waitstaff crew.

The painter unveils his new work

Our man critiques "It has a quirk!

"His recent work is amateurish!"

Dismisses it with a flip flourish

Walks away with a smug smirk.

The critic loves to boldly bash

The new composer's piece-"It's trash!

I couldn't stand a single note!

The woodwinds bleated like a goat!

I'd prefer to hear cars crash!"

The singer gives it all she's got

The critic says, "Her voice is shot!

She shouldn't be up on the stage

At her geriatric age!

Bring on a girl who's young and hot!"

The writer publishes his book

Reviewer barely takes a look

"The plot is dull, the language stale

This author's work will surely fail!

One more word I cannot brook!"

Others' work the critic judges

Their successes he begrudges

He lives only to berate

For his own art he can't create

Through such a hollow life he trudges.

submitted for Poetry Potluck-Muse, Art, Music, and Poetry at Jingle Poetry

Thank you Jingle for all of these awards!!!       

Demons of the Night

image source

Beware the demons of the night

They come to haunt the faded blooms

They whisper curses in your ear

You can't escape when the demons are near

Beware the demons of the night

They're long of tooth and white of hair

They wear your scars as their costume

Long buried secrets they cruelly exhume

Beware the demons of the night

They know what scares you most of all

Affairs, divorce, their eyes can see

Perhaps it's middle age ennui?

Beware the demons of the night

Lock them in the closet tight

Be a good wife, don't make a fuss

Brew up the coffee, put the kids on the bus.

submitted for Thursday Think Tank #45 Secrets at Poets United

If a Teardrop

 This week at Friday Poetically, we were challenged by Brian to compose a poem from a list of words used in Shel Silverstein's poem One Inch Tall.

If a teardrop were a balloon

Carried to school, loved, a blue friend

Whispered to before you go to sleep tonight

Soon...magic!

From blue to green, yellow, sunny

Only a dream?

Go try!

 

submitted to Friday Poetically at One Stop Poetry

Remember When?

image courtesy of Theme Thursday

Remember when the TV said goodnight?

The anthem played then all was static white?

We had the volume turned down really low

'Twas past our bedtime; parents didn't know

We giggled with excitement and with fright.

Remember  when we wished with all our might

To find ice cream in the milk box shining bright?

But most weeks only eggs and milk you know

Remember when?

Remember when the days were pure delight?

Running to the field to fly our kite?

Your back was to the wind you hoped would blow

As the string spun through your fingers like a pro

And we soared up there with it taking flight

Remember when?

submitted for Theme Thursday, April 21, 2011

Migraine 2

image source

Little girl holds her head and cries but the crying makes the hurt worse and she can't stop and she cries and she cries and she cries and she vomits and she sleeps
     Repeat
          Repeat
               Ad nauseum
And she knows now to keep an old pot by her bed just in case she can't make it to the toilet and her mother laughs and calls it the puke pot which only makes her feel worse because how many kids have one of these?

And then there are the doctors who say it's just nerves it's just all in her head because she's too high strung for a kid and here's some pills to calm her down but they don't help and she flushes them
     Down
          Down
               The toilet

She learns to live with pain like it's the weather and sometimes it's just there in the background and sometimes it's not noticeable at all and sometimes it's all she can think about like a hurricane in her brain wiping out everything in its path
     Drowning
          Drowning
               Coming up for air

Then there are the meds and their promises of redemption if only she'd add one more pill, one more vitamin, up the dosage, go off-label, stick with the brand name, stick it up your ass

And no major side effects to speak of so we won't speak of them

dizziness fainting abnormal body temperature glaucoma weight gain anxiety tingling odd taste weight loss poor concentration cognitive impairment numbness decreased libido depression poor concentration  poor concentration poor concentration

Grown woman holds her head and cries and her daughter has the same damn disease and that makes her cry more and yes it is all in her head and she just wants it to
     STOP

submitted for The Poetry Bus hosted by NanU at Have genes will travel
also submitted for One Shot Wednesday, Week 42 at One Stop Poetry 
and Poetry Month Clambake, Week Three

Thanks Luna!