In the Middle

The last item checked off Friday's list

I jump into my car

Head South

The desk clerk at the hotel

Knows us by name

Our little secret

We take off our clothes

Our identities

Our responsibilities

Giggle like the kids we actually are

Hide under the covers

Two turtles in a doublewide shell

Poke our heads out

Only to get a little water

Or burgers and fries

Come check-out time on Sunday

We reassemble our adult costumes

I drive North, you South

Count the days until next time

In the middle.

submitted for Magpie Tales, Mag 275

60 Words

Ashes to forehead
Hand to the fire
Mold your own morals
Whatever's required

Pray to your God
Know that he'll hear
Hate all the others
The ones that you fear

Enter the church
Wearing your sin
Sit near the preacher
Welcomes you in

Spit out old hatreds
Blue, white, and red
They offer love
You shoot them dead.

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

Ode to A/C

You save me from the burning depths of Hell

From life in the Inferno oh so cruel

Embracing me in your arms, clean and cool

If not for you, in misery I'd dwell

But you surround me like an autumn breeze

Though better for your constancy and speed

So loyal, you are never to recede

My love for you keeps rising by degrees

Though some claim you are frigid, find you chilling

You've healing powers to which I avow

The remedy to soothe my fevered brow

What 'ere you ask of me, you'll find me willing

Through August depths you answer all my prayers
I love you, and I'll always put on airs!

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Sunday Mini Challenge:Ode to the Quotidien

Leave a Message

image by Sarolta Ban 

She calls the number every day

just to hear his voice on their  answering machine

Her friends and the kids say

that it's been long enough

that it's time

but she can't erase the message

It's all she has left of him

After all,

his scent has faded

from his clothes and the bed linen

She no longer gets startled

when she awakens alone

So she clings to this last piece

She won't make him a ghost

at least, not yet

She listens to him say

"Leave your message after the tone"

She pauses, then

whispers "I love you."

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Tuesday Platform and
Magpie Tales, Mag 274

Men

Men who act like children

We see them every day

Perpetual adolescents

Shout and tease and play

Complain about their bossy wives

Always on their tail

But when they get arrested

Who comes to pay the bail?

Men behaving like children

Serve only to annoy

Women want a grown ass man

Not a little boy!

submitted for Magpie Tales, Mag 273
and for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Flash 55 Plus

Forget Me Not

Wild Violets for Mother's Day
painting by artist Paul Wolber

Pink carnations at the prom

White lilies for the wedding

Roses on the five tier cake

The petals on their bedding

Honeysuckle in the yard

A garland on her head

Daisies in the garden with

the tulips bright and red

Perfume scented lavender

with just a touch of clove

Tucked within her diary

Saved mementos of her love

Violets pressed between the pages

from another life

Faded into memories

when she became a wife.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Bits of Inspiration, Floral Explosion

Floating

photo by Toni Frissell 

Beyond repair

I drift back home

Some say life

began in water

that existence was crafted

out of a soup

So I chance to return

add my frame to the mix

Bones are a good beginning

I will keep the obol

locked in my teeth

Ride the sea's billows

ready to deal my way 

across the last river

Perhaps I will hear

the mermaids sing

Add my voice

to the sirens' call

Perhaps

the fiery despair

that burns my heart

finally will be extinguished

Even if

I wander the banks

of nothingness 

a wraith 

for one hundred years

What does it matter?

I am already a ghost.

submitted for Magpie Tales, Mag 272, Sunday Whirl, Wordle 205, and Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Tuesday Platform