Bringing You Home (for Micael)

So

it's time

for 

good bye

You're leaving

for good

where

I can't

follow you

I don't want just

memories

I have

ink

paper

canvas, paint

I will

bring

you back

home.

Hallowed Ground

photo by Allison Tardio

The woman is a double agent

Although she pretends to be a teacher

she really works

for the forest

She is protector of this hallowed ground

(but don't tell or she'll have to set her snakes on you)

She leads the children

and the grown ones on wooded hikes

tells them about the Cypress

the birds

the crayfish

but mostly she watches

Sometimes the woman catches the eye

of a kindred soul

a wild child

She gives a secret wink

The rest believe she's there

for them

(fools!)

She's there for the spirits of the forest

the ghostlike deer 

who appear and disappear

without a sound

the sinewy black snake

with  forked tongue sniffing the breeze

the orange legged spider

showy and quick

decorating its web with marks of Zorro

This is their home

and humans, the intruders

The woman sees to it that the guests behave

show the proper respect

and if they don't

someone may go home with nasty case of

poison ivy

or perhaps an accidental fall

into the creek

(careless children are prone to accidents)

and you never know

where a snake may slither.

photo by Allison Tardio

submitted for Poetry Jam, Hallows Eve

Spider and Moth

The web has done its job

sticky strings trap

fragile wings in

threads of oblivion

The spider

eight legs furiously winding

she's an old grandma

with her ball of yarn

The moth

little mummy

silky death dress

Such a tiny

perfect

demise.

submitted for We Write Poems, #77, In An Instant

and Gooseberry Garden, Nature

Grinning Like a...

Alice in Wonderland by YukiValentine

Come back here, you frightful cat

You won't escape again

I'll soon catch you, you tricky rat

and you'll be sorry then!

You say you want to help me

but then get me in to trouble

and instead of being remorseful

you go off and make it double!

I've never seen a cat like you

who grins so big and wide

and no one will believe you're true

because you like to hide.

A cat without a smile

is nothing very strange

but a smile without a cat

is really quite deranged!

So before you disappear this time

I've got your stripey tail

I want you to confess your crime

before you fade to pale.

And if you do not like that

I'll apply a little pressure

Then while you're screeching like a cat

I'll grin just like a Cheshire!

submitted for Midnight Snack, 008, at Poets United

and Poetic Bloomings #26, Life's a Little Weird

Drive

America by Car by Lee Friedlander

Herrmetically sealed soccer moms

reading the latest Danielle Steele

Chauffeurs in Crocs 

clogging school bus lanes

dropping off

picking up charges

Taxi drivers

(You talkin' to me?)

(No one's talking to you, Mom!)

ferrying their freight

dance class

karate

mall

another mom's car

wherever, just

~ Drive ~

We used to have drive

before

we became the drivers

to others

Driven

by the needs of others

driven

to distraction

by interruptions from others

driven

crazy

by believing others 

who told us 

we could have it all

submitted for Magpie Tales 88

and Sunday Mini Challenge, Puente, at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads

Ribbons

                                                    RIBBONS

                                    too         many

                           ribbons            and no

                               damn           cures

                               friends        die

                                     and     we

                                         wear

                                            R

                                          I   I

                                        B      B

                                       B        B

                                      O         O

                                     N           N

                                     S            S

October Blue

aquapell.deviantart.com/art/October-Blue-11441250

Wandering the woods today

Thinking of the friends I've lost

Warm mist hanging in the air

and wondering about the cost

Autumn wind

blows right through me

Was there one who

really knew me?

What happened?

What did I do?

October blue

Looking up at strange clouds floating

Wondering if it will rain

Feeling sorry for myself

when I think of us again

Have to laugh despite it all

You understood absurdity

Mirrors for each other, you

would not believe what you could see

Hard to find

someone like you

October blue

Red and yellow

leaves beneath my dirty shoes

Distant memories 

mixing with the autumn hues

Sometimes I wish 

that I fit in

when I think of 

you my friend

Even now

I still miss you

October blue.

submitted for Poetry Jam, Connections

Mirror, Mirror

Scar
by ~AnnaMariaDeMari

Get out

No more chances

Promises, promises

Take your sweet words and choke on them

We're done

Too late

Save the tears to water your lawn

I've cried too much, too long

Without you, babe

I'm strong

submitted for Poets United, Midnight Snack 007

Ducks and Swans

image courtesy of Magpie Tales

I was never beautiful

Never swam with the swans

their soft feathers

graceful, white necks blooming with

bright pink buds of

boys' affections

Beautiful girls turned heads

I turned pages of books

My lovers were paper

vellum princes

who didn't mind if the princess was

too fat, too skinny, too, too, too

What if the ugly duckling 

never grew into a swan 

but into an ugly duck?

Would anyone love it then?

or would it be hung 

by its gangly neck

in the window of a Chinese restaurant?

submitted for Magpie Tales 87

and One Single Impression, Prompt 190, Paper

Lullaby for the Lost

No funeral

No flowers

Put it out with medical waste

No tears

No prayers

Sympathy is for the chaste

No one's bringing you a casserole

No one's sending you a card

You caused yourself this grief, this sadness

Now no one cares if it is hard.

No right to mourn

Carry the scorn

Your choice, so you said

Time to move on

Glad that it's gone

Flush it away, it's dead

Your dirty little secret

You kept it sterile, clean

No name for your lost baby

The one that could've been.

submitted for dVerse Poetics, Taboo Subjects, at dVerse Poets Pub

Number Five

I dance on the edges of dreams and wakefulness
I hear your laugh
on the car radio
You've been whispering my name at night
I don't believe in ghosts
so I know it's you
You love me; you love me not
You love me; I'm tied in knots
Words puzzle me
How they fit together then
fly apart again
I wash my laundry in beer
How is it
that your face is in every ink blot?
You look so beautiful with wings.

submitted for Poetry Jam, Your Assignment (laundry, laugh, ghost, edges, beer)

Willow Manor Ball!

I'm so excited! The Annual Willow Manor Ball is finally here! This evening marks my first appearance at the ball, so I've decided to make up for the ones I've missed by inviting 3 guests. Tacky? I think not. There will be plenty of merriment to go around!

First, however, my dress! My darling daughter assisted me in choosing this lovely Renaissance-inspired beauty. I think it will look amazing out on the dance floor, don't you?

Now, the accessories, I mean, the escorts. First of all, I will be bringing Mr. Johnny Depp. His wife is off somewhere creating some fashion faux pas of her own and agrees that Johnny deserves the opportunity to be seen with someone who isn't dressed to be featured as the punchline to a Joan Rivers joke.  Surprisingly, he insisted on attending the Ball in costume as Captain Jack Sparrow, but I insisted that the monkey stay at home.

Johnny is obsessed with the peanuts

so dashing!

Next on my guest list is Oscar Wilde. He is a marvel for witty conversation, and I thought he would be loads of fun! He said, "One should either be a work of art or wear a work of art," so how could I go wrong with Johnny and Oscar on my arms?

Never one to be unfair, I decided to also invite a female escort. Dorothy Parker seemed a good choice. I thought she would enjoy the reparte with Johnny and Oscar and the rest of the Willow Manor gang. She initially turned me down (Well, I never!) but then changed her mind once she heard about Tess's Last Word Cocktails. I warned her not to drink too much and embarrass herself,

I wish I could drink like a lady
I can take 1 or 2 at the most
3 and I'm under the table
4 and I'm under the host

but I was brusquely dismissed.  Oh well, it should be amusing.

One small favor to ask of Lucy, to whom Tess has graciously given the key to the wine cellar so that she could give Nigella Lawson an "extended" tour. I'm planning to have a "friend" drop off Giada DeLaurentiis by the back door of Willow Manor (she will not be dressed to attend the Ball.) If someone could see to it that she is also given the extended wine cellar tour, perhaps with a tour of the root cellar, and if she happens to "accidentally" become locked inside for the winter, that someone may find some unexpected money in his or her pocket after the Ball. Just sayin'.

The Ceiling Tile

I stared up at the ceiling and counted the tiles, trying to distract myself. My attention, however, kept returning to the one directly above my head. It was covered with an old water stain. The rust colored blotch spread out over the tile like dried blood. It seemed so out of place in this building of high tech gadgets and the best trained doctors in the world.  "Now try not to move," I heard the lab tech say. I lay on the table, my pregnant belly a souffle about to be poked before it was finished baking. I imagined it collapsing beneath the amniocentesis needle with a "poof!" ending my questionable pregnancy before it even had a chance. I didn't dare look at the ultrasound machine.  Instead, I watched the minute hand sweep a slow circle on the wall clock.  It was supposed to be over in a minute, and it was. Afterward, I was glad my husband was there to drive me home. I wasn't in pain. Pain would have been welcome. I was numb, with intermittent stabs of terror. I existed in that state for the next 3 weeks.

submitted for RememberRED-Just Before You Start

Little King

image Sowa, Little King

It's good to be King

but it's been three days and

I'm almost out of clean underwear

I don't really mind

the instant coffee but

breakfast would be nice

and I'm sick of take-out

Why won't she answer my calls?

Why won't she come home?

My home is my castle but

my castle has dirty bathrooms and

I can't find the remote

It's too quiet at night and

the bed is too big

Where has she gone?

The King demands some answers!

(please?)

submitted for Magpie Tales 86

Don't Miss It!

DON'T MISS THE CYBER EVENT OF THE YEAR!!!

click here for details

The lovely and gracious Tess of Willow Manor is opening her charming cyber home to all of blogland for the annual Willow Manor Ball to be held on October 12, 2011. It is an event not to be missed! I'm shopping for my dress at this moment!

Because Sometimes I Forget To Tell You All the Reasons Why

You thank me for dinner even when it's not good

You trust me completely like no one else could

In bed with two dogs, we cuddle together

We share an umbrella when it is bad weather

You follow my blog; you read every poem

With one little look, my true thoughts, you know 'em

When I am stressed, you scratch my back

For making me laugh, you have the knack

You take me on dates to go out to eat

You buy me Twizzlers because you're so sweet

We like the same movies and the same books

In sweats and no make-up, you like my looks

You admit when you're wrong when we have a fight

You tell me you love me every night

I love you.

submitted for Poetry Jam, Love Poem

Chains

images courtesy of Ella Wilson

This empty shell she called her home

She roams her hell after the gloam

Imprisoned within as a lover's possesion

"I am not free; my heart is chained

By jealousy, my love constrained."

By his hand she died after making confession.

submitted for Thursday Think Tank, #69, Haunted Houses, at Poets United

and In-form Poet: Tri-Coupled Sestet, at Poetic Bloomings

Sticks and Stones Are a Cakewalk Compared to Girls

image source

Change the tone just a bit

Emphasize the words just a little differently and

a compliment becomes 

an insult

comfort becomes

taunting

Girls do it so well

It's instinctive, this

verbal torture

so effective in wearing down

victims yet 

so easy to deny

Nothing visible

but the scars last longer

than black eyes or

broken bones

No locker room brawls

but plenty of hits taken

Better to be invisible than try

to walk the narrow balance beam between

virgin and whore and risk falling

on the wrong side

Even the agnostics

say a small prayer 

Don't let me be the ugliest or

have the flattest chest, for a special hell

is reserved for her

Wads of toilet paper descend upon her head, her lap

like snowballs of cheap Charmin

to stuff in her unnecessary bra

for some tits

Then the laughter rains down

the bell rings

and it's over

for today

but

the pack will hunt again

tomorrow.

submitted for
Open Link Night, Week 12 at dVerse Poets Pub

and One Single Impression, Prompt 188, Language

3 Bags Full

If you like a good detective story

I just read one that's not too gory

Leonie Swann wrote the book

and you really should take a look

It's about the murder of a shepherd

but with cleverness and fun this tale is peppered!

You see, the sheep have lost their master

and they vow to bring justice to this disaster

The flock will solve the homicide

using skills for which they're qualified

So read 3 Bags Full-it will surely amuse

but watch out what you say around rams and ewes!

submitted for Smiley Sociology #9, Book Review, at Rhyme Me a Smile

Elephant Footsteps

image courtesy of Magpie Tales 85

You padded in

and touched my heart as quietly 

as elephant footsteps

You brought the rain

and washed from me the

smoke and soot that had

choked and blinded

I climbed upon your back 

together we flew

with the clouds

 submitted for Magpie Tales, 85

and Gooseberry Garden: Poetry Picnic, Week 7, Love and Loss

No Hand Left Behind

http://moreorlesscomic.com/09/11.html

I can write
right
with my
left hand
but I can't throw
right
with either.
I don't think I learned
right
when I was small
and was taught to throw
right-handed.
So, despite being quite
(b)right,
gym class was a
(f)right
and I am not
light
on my feet.
But now it's
all right.
I've
left
it all behind me!

submitted for Poetry Jam, Sept. 30, 2011
and for We Write Poems, Prompt #74, Left Hand First

Lessons From Bubbles

Image Credit: http://charlottesfancy.com/

Sometimes

a soft whisper

is more effective than

a lot of hot air.

Sometimes

slow and gentle

yields better results than

heedlessly fast.

And sometimes

despite your best efforts

the magic ends

too quickly

and you're left with

a sticky mess.

submitted for Short Story Slam, Week 11, at Bluebell Books

Hello Kitty!

images source

Hello Kitty!

Icon of cute

Cartoon cat

Kawaii kitten

Like Japanese schoolgirls and

anime heroines

you've been imported

appropriated

embraced

Hell-Oh!

Fetishized Feline!

Your whiskers tickle

everything from

headbands to tennis shoes

panties to bombs

No one would suspect

such a sweet little pussy

to scratch her way to

WORLD DOMINATION

Bad kitty!

submitted for dVerse Poetics, Pop Art, at dVerse Poets Pub