Folie Dans La Cuisine

The broken souffle was rapidly collapsing
She had hoped it would climb to such heights
that the man in the moon would smell it
and crave a bite
Now, it appeared on the precipice of disaster
and with it, her belief that she could master
the cryptic nuances of fancy French cuisine
She had been so hopeful,
her carriage unusually confident
as she leveraged the pan
from counter to oven
and lovingly thrust her creation into the warmth
As the souffle rose,
so did her self-worth
The doubts that had peppered her mind
became calypso drumbeats of excitement
She observed the edges brown,
slightly, like the first tan of summer
She knew it was time
Gently, she opened the oven door
Grasped her masterpiece with gloved hands
Set it on the table
Bang!
The oven slammed shut
like a clubhouse door in her face
She was unwelcome here
An outsider
She removed her stained apron
shook her head
stepped outside
listened to the quiet song
of the crickets,
then dialed for pizza delivery.

Yum!

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Get Listed, Of Catnip and Moons

The Girl In the Window

Edvard Munch "The Girl in the Window" (detail) 1893

She gazes from her window at the night

Her face framed in the pane as hours pass

The midnight stars shine 'neath the moon's pale light

Upon the floor, reflections from the glass

She sings a gentle melody learned from

The lullaby of crickets in the weed

A summer breeze accompanies her hum

Into the darkness daily thoughts recede

Her body willows as it bends and sways

She wears a gown of soft white cotton cloth

So shaded from the sun's demanding rays

These moments are as fragile as a moth

In twilight's inky indigo she's whole

The night's tender caresses soothe her soul.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Artistic Interpretations, Stillness, Silence, and Solitude with Margaret

Hey Deanna

Hey Deanna
I thought about you today
Don't know why
It's been so long
but that song started to play
and I started crying
You know, it just doesn't seem fair
You'd just started flying
When they shot you out of the air
Hey Deanna
Have you found someone to love?
You never could down here
Maybe she's up above

I remember
when you dressed up
for Halloween
In wings and a halo
An angel groovin'
to Dancing Queen
You flirted with the girls
and the boys
The world was just
one of your toys
I can't understand
why you had to go away

Hey Deanna
I remember how you used to dance
You made everyone happy
But you never got the chance
Hey Deanna
Could you maybe send
a message my way?
'Cause I still miss you
and I just wanted to say
Hey Deanna.

In memory of Deanna Lynn "Odie" Garcia, 9/13/68 - 1/13/2001



submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Open Link Monday

She's Mine

I
am
Mama
Understand
If you hurt my babe
I will tear you into pieces
I would sink an entire ship
to keep the sea safe
for one fry
because
she's 
mine.



Artwork by Judith Clay 
 

submitted for dVerse Poets Pub, Poetics, Judith Clay and
Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Sunday Mini Challenge, Fib Poem

Penny Royalty

photo by Elena Kalis

 
She drowns under

the weight of mistakes,

consequences

Whispers a prayer to Selene,

Mover of tides

Keeper of rhythms

Prostrates herself

before her Queen

She knew the pain of lovers

She prays

to awaken

from nightmarish dreams

Please release

the threads

thin, but binding

Endymion sleeps

She sinks,

a penny in a wishing well.

Lyrics | Fleetwood Mac lyrics - Sisters Of The Moon lyrics


submitted for The Mag, Mag 182 and
Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Out of Standard w/Izy, Blue Moon Special and
dVerse Poets Pub, Meeting the Bar, It's Getting Tight In Here

Mouse Heart

My heart

nestled
in a space under the floorboards

I hid it

years ago

There it stayed

Period.

I couldn’t risk it

being misused again

I learned

by degrees

how to function without

Didn’t even miss it any more

Almost

Then I dreamed

(or maybe it was a vision)

I put my heart back

into my empty chest

It beat again;

I was persuaded

I should have known

Dreams are not

to be trusted

if we are to survive

unscathed

My heart grayed,

a small, dead mouse

I wear around my neck

as a tribute

to you, my love.

submitted for mindlovemisery, Prompt 17, Pessimist

and The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 122, A Baker's Dozen

Us

After we make love

I will wear your scent all day

Better than perfume

The essence of our passion

I breathe us in and I smile

This Is Incredible

Neil Hilborn speaks of love and OCD.

My Early Works

My mom recently gave me an old scrapbook she had been keeping of my schoolwork. I just had to post a few of the most memorable things!

 Oh my. If you can embiggen this lovely painting from second grade, you'll see that I have small children hanging from the ceiling and other children sad and crying at their desks, writing "I will be quiet." I swear I have no memory of what traumatic incident prompted this! Scary.

I think this is from first or second grade. Some of my first poetry!

I guess it didn't work-that's why Jewish kids don't ask Santa for things!

On Observing a Hummingbird

(AP Photo/Terry Sohl) (2008 AP)

I watch a hummingbird feed

She seems so tiny and frail

She tends perpetual need

Her death assured should she fail

Her beak a threadlike syringe

Her heart drum rolls in her breast

She flits among flowers' fringe

Her wings too nervous to rest

A wisp, she timidly flies

The wind can shift her in flight

Her will, her slightness belies

For few won't fall to her fight

So close to life she must cling

A strength imbues fragile things.

submitted for dVerse Poets Pub, Form For All, Rhyme and Meter

and Poets United, Verse First, Difficulty

Memories and Magic

image from cover of "The Ocean At the End of the Lane"

Go the pond

At the end of the lane

Think of the girl

Remember again

Standing inside

The green fairy ring

Nothing can hurt you

Forget everything

Marble of glass

Soldier of tin

Swallow the ocean

Breath it all in

Fight with the monsters

The sheets from your bed

Nightmares of grown-ups

Take root in your head

Childhood demons

Tore you apart

Banished, but still

Left a hole in your heart.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Words Count With MZ

and mindlovemisery, Prompt 15, Childhood Dreams 

(inspired by Neil Gaimon's new book, The Ocean At the End of the Lane)

White Lie

image by Tosher @ Dreamstime

I told my love a small white lie

It was of no import

To spare his feelings, that was why

I gave a false report.

But a lie is like the phosphorus

That coats a matchstick head

Though small and white, it's poisonous

and volatile once said.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, A Birthday in August, Sara Teasdale

Sylvia Knew

"Mushrooms" by Enola-Autumn

She never feared
darkness, moved freely
among shadows
Whispers
were her native tongue
She asked for little
and was rarely disappointed
She practiced
economy of emotion
Quiet
Thoughtful
Reserved
She was described as shy
This was not true
Sylvia knew
She was a mushroom
Watching
Waiting
Biding her time.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, FB Fridays, The Book Within the Story Within the Poem in which we were asked to compose a poem about a character somehow interacting with one of our favorite poems. I chose Sylvia Plath's "Mushrooms." When I was in junior high, I was very quiet in school. One summer, while at a writing camp, the teacher called me a "mushroom." I found the reference and loved it! I thought it conveyed a sort of quiet, subversive strength that others rarely recognized. The poem may be read at PoemHunter.com

Return To Sender

from The Mag 179

...And when the landfills could hold no more,

Not one more old tire or rusted toilet,

The people sent their garbage to the sky

Rockets loaded with tons of trash

Launched into the air

High above the clouds that pillowed

Polluted cities

The people could not see the space flotsam

So they forgot all about it

Until it was time to send up more

And more

And more

Soon, the sky could hold

Discarded junk

Rained down

From the heavens

“Return To Sender”

submitted for The Mag, Mag 179 

and mindlovemisery, Prompt 14, The Music of Jeff Buckley(inspired by "The Sky Is a Landfill"