Tree-o-let

photograph courtesy of Diana Lee

 Grace these boughs with rain and snow

Black winged angel of the wood

Sheltering the fawn and doe

Grace these boughs with rain and snow

Pine scented nests on earth below

Let doubters stand where Thoreau stood

Grace these boughs with rain and snow

Black winged angel of the wood.

submitted to Photograph Prose

The City

image courtesy of Scott Wyden

For him there was no prom

He walked across the stage at graduation

There were a few claps

And a few more snickers

He packed his bag, hugged his mom

And left

He had no delusions

That he would be better loved

In the city

But at least there

He could find

Places to hide

submitted for One Shoot Sunday at One Stop Poetry

and a belated Friday Flash 55

The Duke

image courtesy of Bluebell Books

The visit began just like last week's. "See if you can find a John Wayne movie on the TV. I can't figure out how to work it anymore."

"Okay, Dad." Of course, I found one. Seems that John Wayne movies are always on.

"Yeah. The Duke. Now, he was a real man. Don't see too many of his kind anymore. So, you find a job yet?"

"I've told you, Dad. I have a job. I'm a writer. That is my job." I wished I could blame this conversation on senility, but it was just his stubborn refusal to accept my vocation.

"No, I mean a real job. Oh, I know you got a couple of stories published in some magazines, and that's great and all, but you can't really expect to be able to support a wife and a couple of kids some day living like that."

I let that comment drift off into the whir of the box fan he had sitting by his Lazy Boy. If we began that conversation, not even the Duke would be able to save me.

submitted for Short Story Slam-Week 2, Bluebell Books

The Builder

image source

“I build a painting by putting little marks together–some look like hot dogs, some like doughnuts.” – Chuck Close

  Break me down to make me whole

Stand back and admire your skill

Creator, master of control

Break me down to make me whole

 Revealing secrets of my soul

My life essence you distill

Break me down to make me whole

Stand back and admire your skill.

submitted for Friday Poetically at One Stop Poetry

Who's Gonna Save Them?

Stole the cash from Mama's purse

To buy the test after school

Along with a candy bar, nail polish, and lip gloss

To look casual, you know, like she did this all the time

Cut her morning classes to pee in peace

After Mama went off to work

Who's gonna save them

Now that they're here?

Wrapped the bad news in toilet paper

Hid it in the trash

Passed her boyfriend a note

He hung his head and slammed the dirty cafeteria table

Later he offered to marry her

If she wanted

Or give her the money

To do something else

Who's gonna save them

Now that they're here?

She tried to keep her head up and walk tall

They called her "whore" and "baby killer"

Pushed pamphlets at her with pictures she didn't want to see

She told herself she'd come back another day

But she never did

The sting of Mama's hand across her face hurt the worst

Who's gonna save them

Now that they're here?

submitted for WD Poetic Form Challenge, The Bop, at Poetic Asides

The Bop is a poetic form created by Afaa Michael Weaver. It is a poetic argument made up of 3 stanzas, each stanza followed by a refrain. The first stanza (6 lines) states a problem, the second stanza (8 lines) explores or expands upon the problem, and the third stanza (6 lines) presents a resolution to the problem or tells of the failure to resolve the problem.

Sounds of Falling Angels

Did I disappoint you?

Your Ivory Soap girl

Isn't even 99 percent pure

Think I give a damn

That I didn't  live up to your expectations?

Find a new saint to worship

Find a new pillar to stand by your palace of virtue

I ain't no virgin

And I've already been sacrificed

And the blood I spilled wasn't for you

So stand back

Or you're gonna get splattered

With the bloody tatters

Of your icon.

submitted for Poetry Jam, Forgetting, May 30, 2011 
(this was written for someone from my past whom  I would love to forget as he was a pompous jerk!)

Untitled (for David)

image source

I travel the roads
Of you
Tracing well-worn paths
With my fingers
Over your brown skin, your muscles
The territory familiar
Warm, welcoming
Like returning to a favorite seaside haunt
Where the locals know your name
Where you know
the best pizza dive
and the creamiest ice cream
and can say, "Here is the perfect place
to see the sand dunes at sunset."
And you never want to go anywhere else because
You crave
that salt air on your face
that ice cream on your tongue
and your lips on my lips traveling over only you
Because nothing else could ever be
So good.

submitted for May Poetry Challenge, Travel, at Verse in a Nutshell

Eat Up!

Tournier's Banquet Scene With a Lute Player courtesy of Magpie Tales 67

I may be a courtesan

But I have got a master plan

I'm going to escape these men

They won't bother me again. 

See the one playing the lute?

He's nothing more than a brute.

And the one with the eye glass?

He is nasty, cruel, and crass.

The other two are even worse-

They sport habits most perverse!

They wanted a little food

To set the tone, to set the mood.

Over dinner I will serve

Exactly what they most deserve.

Lots of arsenic should suffice

To end their dinners off real nice.

They may detect metallic taste

Never suspect their meal was laced.

And by the time they long for bed

If all goes well, they should be dead.

The final course I save for me-

When they are gone, then I am free!

submitted for Magpie Tales 67

and for May Poetry Challenge, Crime, at Verse in a Nutshell

Mystique

The artist's paradox: 

image source

To capture a moment
To recreate it
     With paintbrush
     Pen
     Pencil
     Camera
Destroys the moment.

Putting a frame around it

means one is no longer

in the moment 

but an observer.

The mystique is gone
for the artist
but is evoked again
in others.

submitted for May Poetry Challenge, Mystique, at Verse in a Nutshell
and Poetry Potluck 36, Sketches, Images, and Impressions, at Jingle Poetry

Blue Pill Blues

image courtesy of Walter Parada

Economy's down

The budget's tight

We have to make some cuts

We'll lay off teachers

Reduce food stamps

Tighten belts we must!

And out health care

It's so wasteful

We can trim some frills

Use generics

Pre-approvals

Just keep our blue pills!

Diabetics

They can manage

Without their injections

But without

Our Viagra

We'll have no erections!

Fingers ache

From arthritis

Hurting to the bone?

We don't care

Meds cost money

We want groins of stone!

Who gives a damn

If some woman

Has another pup?

Birth control

Doesn't matter

If we can't get it up!

So go ahead

Cut our health care

Fix financial ills

But don't you ever

Touch our manhood

Give us our blue pills!

submitted for One Shoot Sunday at One Stop Poetry

and May Poetry Challenge, Healthcare, at Verse in a Nutshell

Honky Tonk Jam

His left hand jangles the chords of the piano

image source

While his right hand clutches a warm beer
And after every few sips                                                        
He tries to get a few tips
By playing songs that someone wants to hear
And the honky tonk is swingin'
But nobody is singin'
They're drinkin' and they're looking' for a fight
Then she walks into the place
He won't look at her face
She says, "I know you think I'm loose but let's get tight."

"Lady I'll buy you a drink but then you best be on your way
If you hang around here much longer
You know they'll be hell to pay
If I told you once, I told you at least half a dozen times before
Don't come walkin' back into my life
Once you go walkin' out our front door."

She sits down next to him on his piano stool
So close that he can smell her new shampoo
Says, "I know that you miss me
I know you wanna kiss me
I really didn't want to be untrue
It's just I get so lonely
But you're my one and only
Baby, tell me that you're gonna take me back
We'll buy ourselves some cheap wine
And I will treat you real fine
Take me home with you and I'll unpack."

He begins to play some chords on the piano
A sweet tune that she hasn't heard before
She starts tapping along
Swaying to his new song
Pretty soon she's out there on the floor
Says, "Sing the rest to me
Imagine what we could be
Dance with me and we'll forget the past."
He just shakes his head "no"
Tells her that she should go
He wrote that song for love that's gonna last.

"Lady I'll buy you a drink but then you best be on your way
If you hang around here much longer
You know they'll be hell to pay
If I told you once, I told you at least half a dozen times before
Don't come walkin' back into my life
Once you go walkin' out our front door."

submitted for Poetry Jam, Honky Tonk

Help Wanted

image source

Families living in cars
Men sleeping on heating grates
     with newspaper blankets
Weary women begging for quarters
     so their children can eat
Fighting with dogs and rats for scraps of food
Nameless, faceless nobodies
Wandering the land of milk and honey
Stepping in sticky, dried puddles of beer and urine
Looking for streets paved with gold
Dying on streets covered with blood

submitted for May Poetry Challenge, unemployment, at Verse in a Nutshell

Dishin' It

  I can't believe it!

My gosh, have you heard?

I can't believe it!

Don't say a word!

Amy told Lauren

and Lauren told me

We all were sworn

to secrecy.

Do you think it's on Facebook?

I'll bet there's a pic!

What is that password?

Log in now, quick!

Go check on Twitter

See if it's trending

OMG, you guys

This is mind bending!

Let's get our cells

We've gotta text

Go through our contacts

Contact who's next

By homeroom tomorrow

The whole school will know

This will be epic

Can't wait for the show!

We just love gossip

We all agree

Come on, dish it all

Just don't talk about me!

submitted for Theme Thursday, Gossip

The Circus

When the circus came to town

We got tickets for the show

Underneath the big, striped tent

We sat in the top row

We ate some cherry sno cones

And we laughed at a sad clown

But when the acrobats came on

My tears came falling down

How can I explain it

That sometimes little things bring it all back

I'm sorry

I wish I could contain it

But sometimes my thoughts jump a train

Don't worry

It's just that I thought you would be the one

To hold me up if I should stumble

But you were holding someone else

And you just let me fall away and crumble

Now I feel like I am walking

On the high wire all alone without a net

And though I have forgiven you

It's still too soon to say I can forget

So let's just watch the lion tamers

Laugh at all the jugglers and the clown

And maybe I'll forget her name and

All the things you did to bring me down

And maybe I won't cry next time

I see the acrobats

When the circus comes to town

submitted for May Poetry Challenge, Circus, at Verse in a Nutshell

and Thursday Poets Rally, Week 44

I was given this award for Week 44 of the Thursday Poets Rally. Thanks so much!
I would like to nominate Olivia at  http://oliviasmindlymatters.wordpress.com/

for this award next.

http://promisingpoetscafe.wordpress.com/2011/05/22/the-perfect-poet-award-4-rally-week-44/

Untitled

Shoulda listened

I was told

You had no heart

Your blood was cold

You were a snake

In the grass

You played it cool

You played it fast

You fooled me once

Now shame on you

You fool me twice

No, that won't do

You changed your skin

But I can see

There's something you

Must want from me

You think you'll lie

To me again

Well that ain't gonna

Fly my friend

So don't come crawling

Back to me

Feigning your 

Affinity

Go slink back off

Into the weeds

I need no more

Of your slick deeds

Snake in the grass

Yeah, that's right

Cross me again

You'll feel my bite

submitted for Thursday Think Tank, #49 Untitled,  at Poets United

Bitch

image source

Call me whore

I'm not afraid to explore

My sexuality with him

Or with her

But with you, I defer

Your eyes can undress me

But you'll never possess me

Call me bitch

Yeah, that's rich

'Cause I speak my mind

And I'm not always kind

You can't dismiss me

So you try and dis' me

Call me a cunt

'Cause I won't do what you want

I'm nobody's slave

Don't tell me how to behave

You know you can't tame me

And I won't let you shame me

Think I'm a whore you can buy?

Go on, fool, you just try

This bitch'll bark loud

She is smart and she's proud 
I'm not feelin' contrite

This cunt's got teeth that can bite

submitted for May Poetry Challenge, Power, at Verse in a Nutshell
One Shot Wednesday, week 46, at One Stop Poetry

Record Breaker

image source

When I was a kid, I often would look
Through the pages of the Guinness World Record Book.
I thought that some day I would break one myself
And see my own name in that book on a shelf.
My plans about how to become such a winner
Were always forgotten when Mom called for dinner!

submitted for May Poetry Challenge, Breaking Records, at Verse in a Nutshell

Gates

image source

                                   

We live behind gates
    in our communities of strangers.                  
We make
     small talk
           with our
               small minds
                    while eating
                         small food
at the annual holiday party.
We roll our eyes over the cheap wine
and boast about how we buy
     organic or
     local.
We hurry back to our
     Fortresses of Solitude
     for another year. We have
          tvs in every room so there's always something to look at
          other than each other. We have
               everything we could ever want.
We live behind gates
     to keep out the undesirables. We deserve
     to feel safe. Is that so wrong?
But what do we do when the fruit is rotten from
     the inside?
          Polish our silver
               and
                   detail our cars
                        and
                             landscape the yard
                                  and
                                       enlarge the pool because our kids are
drowning
in
stuff
but starving for attention
     (at least that's what the psychiatrist says when he hands out the prescriptions.)
We live behind gates
     to keep in the kids.
We don't want them mixing
     with bad influences.
We send them to private schools
     where they can get drunk
          and
               high
                    and
                         carve their skin                  
with a better quality of friends than at the
     local high school and where the
lawyer moms and dads can
     make charges disappear
     if things go really wrong
because they're good kids, not like those others who live
    on the other side, not like us.
We live behind gates.

submitted for Poetry Potluck, Fortresses, Castles, and Palaces, at Jingle Poetry

Bubby's Books

image courtesy of Magpie Tales

The books you left behind are mine to hold

I read your notes and hear you speak to me

You treasured them as some would treasure gold

They brought you to a place where you were free

From you I learned that in my words there's magic

That beauty can be conjured from the tragic

From you I learned the value of my mind

The greatest gift that you could leave behind

submitted for Magpie Tales 66

Jasmine Tea

image source

Flowers on the tongue

Warm steam soothes away troubles

Drink in Heaven's scent

submitted for May Poetry Challenge, Liquid, at Verse in a Nutshell

Prince Morphine

photo by Fee Easton

Rode up on your white horse

I was face down in the mud

Said, "Hey, man, wanna buy a girl a drink?"

Offered me your gloved hand

Fixed me up real nice

Asked me to come home with you

I didn't  think twice

I wanted a Prince Charming

But I got you instead

I got Prince Morphine

Sleeping in my bed

Asked for a dozen roses

You tucked a poppy behind my ear

You sing me lullabies until my passion's doused

Your sheets are real soft

But your love makes me itch

I don't feel the pain no more

But I don't feel shit

I wanted a Prince Charming

But I got you instead

I sleep with Prince Morphine

I feel like I'm dead

submitted for One Shoot Sunday at One Stop Poetry

photo prompt by the remarkable Fee Easton

Modesty (Please!)

You may think you're hot

A total hunk

But modesty's best

When you choose a swim trunk

Your body's as bloated

As your big, fat ego

I don't need to see it

In a tight fitting Speedo

So before you go out

To the beach for a dunk

Please show some restraint

And cover your junk!

submitted for May Poetry Challenge, Modesty, at Verse in a Nutshell

Blogger, You Suck!

Due to Blogger's little tantrum, I was unable to post anything for a while. To catch up with the May Challenge, here are my poems for May 12-14, dedicated to Blogger.

Words flow like water

But where do I put them now?

Blogger's down again

No satisfaction

I stare blankly at my screen

Must I use paper?

Relief is in sight

Blogger to be restored soon

With posts vaporized

submitted (late) to May Poetry Challenge at Verse in a Nutshell