Sonnet of the Bells

The bells are ringing, not for me

I hear them in the high church tower

They sing a wordless melody

Counting out each passing hour

They fill the winter's frigid air

With peals of sound so true and warm

Sometimes I want to follow there

Intoxicated by their charm

And though I feel the coming squall

I will not seek shelter inside

The gentle sounds outside those walls

Much hatred and harsh words belie

For many truths I hold within

The Church believes to be a sin.

 submitted for Imaginary Garden With Read Toads, Mary's Mixed Bag, Bells

 Baptist Church Bell , Court Street, Keene NH

(source)

Eat This

Little girls like

little birds

open pink mouths

and peep

because we need to eat

We need

someone's hands to feed us

to keep us and

You have to believe

the ones who feed you

and so you believe

You believe

what they feed

and they feed

and they squeeze

and they tease

You remember all the names

They say you're fat

and stupid

and worthless

They criticize

and minimize

they feed you lies

and you swallow their words

even though they burn

even though they hurt

And is it any wonder

that girls are dying

from eating disorders

that we stick our fingers

down our pink throats

and vomit up

the poison

that makes our stomachs churn

that we clamp our mouths closed

and finally say no

This body belongs to me

and I'd rather see it starve

than swallow the shit

that you give me

I'm hungry

but I can't eat from your hands

anymore

My mouth is sore

from trying to lick an empty spoon

to find sustenance

and getting a hand slapped

across my face

Scolded

Told you're too needy

Too greedy

When really all I wanted

was someone to

feed me.

submitted for Poetry Jam, The Sound of Music

This is how it should be: Corrine Bailey Rae-Put Your Records On

On Finding the Cat Deceased While Pet Sitting

Poor kitty lacked in vigor
Dead body stiff with rigor

Her mouth was open wide
The tongue hung out the side

Blank eyes in open stare
No life was seen in there

Her fur looked weatherbeaten
Cat food remained uneaten

Wrapped her in a towel
Tail stuck out like a dowel

Owners shed a tear
I'll find a new career!

submitted for dVerse Poets Pub, Form for All, Couplets for the New Year

This Child

 Photograph: Getty Images

This child you love so much destroyed your life

One time you were a strong colt running free

but now you're broken and forever saddled

This child you hate so much has saved your life

More than enough of all you never needed

and grabbing for as much as you could get

A frenzied trip to everywhere and nowhere

Girl, will there be a next stop after here?

This child, this child, this child- it's all this child

Your life, your life, your life-where did it go?

The emptiness inside you isn't screaming

The hopelessness begins to settle in

This child you love so much destroyed your life

This child you hate so much has saved your life

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Kenia's Wed. Challenge, de Moraes inspired description of a person

Musings on the Year's End

source: Google images

And so another year has slipped on past

We wonder what we've learned and what it means

and whether what we've done is meant to last

Replaying last year's memories and scenes

before our life demands and intervenes

How did the year live up to what we planned?

What do we see behind us where we stand?

We should not mourn the year that's come and gone

The cards were dealt and so we played the hand

New year, new hand and so the game goes on.

submitted for Poetic Bloomings, In Form Poet, Dizain

Gloves Off

image:  Bert Stern

Go ahead and have your blondes, Gentlemen

You don't know what you're missing 

Anyway

I prefer my men with gloves off

I want to see the dirt under their nails

and feel their callused hands

rub against my neck to lift

my dark hair

when they kiss my neck

Blondes may sparkle like diamonds

but it's surface shine

tossed out like Mardi Gras beads to the masses

But brunettes

know the power of mystery

Deep dark earthen tresses

gate the passages

where only the most favored

gain entry.

submitted for Magpie Tales 97

Hanukkah Lights

source

One

Single

Candle flame

Glows in darkness

To mark the first night

Come the second night, two

Twin flames dancing together

Shine even  brighter  as a pair

Each night the candles grow one by one

Eight lights remind us of miracles

Remind us of times long ago

Remind  us of  renewal

Remind us to have faith

One candle, one flame

Solitary

Become more

Become

Shared

submitted for Poetry Jam, Solitary

and for dVerse Poets Pub, dVerse Christmas

Happy Holidays!

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!

Rabbit Risen

source

I don't believe in miracles

but you've been resurrected

I watched as you died

and I prayed for the miraculous

and now

you rise

like a beautiful, crazy Jesus

screaming "Holy shit, y'all, I'm back!"

Belief and doubt

do a tango in my head

til I'm too dizzy to think

God and I have a tenuous relationship

I want to believe all the promises

but what if they're lies?

What if faith is just gullibility?

What if doubt closes a window?

I believe what I see

and I see you here

Now

Hallelujah!

submitted for dVerse Poets Pub, Meeting the Bar, Contrast

Aubade (Morning Song)

source

 I can't live up to the expectations of the morning

The day's beginning stares up at me

like an excited puppy waiting for his walk

No matter how much I try to do

it never seems enough and

I always disappoint

Much better

to sleep through this ever demanding time

and wake when it's less daunting

with the slackers

alcoholics

and unemployed

all those less promising folks

rising on the edges of the earth

It is here that I shine like a sun.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Read Toads, Grace's Wed. Challenge, Aubade

Christmas Light

Christmas Lights by frostkisses

The tree fell down

and the lights shorted out

The in-laws are bickering

and the mice are stirring in the basement 

but we made love in the mess

and laughed

and picked pine needles off each other's bodies

Comfort and joy.

submitted for Poetry Pantry #80 at Poets United

Scrap

She was a scrap of a girl

an afterthought

a crumb

the kid you always forgot

when naming all the kids in your class

I think her name was Cathy

or maybe Cindy

She probably had a story

I wonder if anyone knew it

submitted for Friday Music Prompt, Strawberry Blonde, at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

The Advance of Middle Age

Her body is an occupied city

The fortress has been seized

The ruin and devastation a pity

Her body is an occupied city

It used to be so bright and pretty

The invading troops can not be appeased

Her body is an occupied city

The fortress has been seized

submitted for Poetry Jam, Occupy This!

and Poetic Bloomings, Triolet

source

Dear Phoebe

source

Dear Phoebe

Sorry I messed up

(again)

Too bad being a failure

isn't a real job

I think I have a knack for it

I know I said

I wouldn't go away

Sorry I missed your play

I bet you were a great

Benedict Arnold

I'm feeling much better

most of the time now

Maybe Mom and Dad will bring you

to see me soon

I guess I'll have to ask my doctor

if it would help my recovery

(God, that kills me)

The people here

are pretty nice

and not so phony

Some of them are pretty fucked messed up

but they're okay

I think you'd like them

I've been thinking

about Allie a lot

I want you to know

that next Fall I'm going to a new school

and I'm going to try

to apply myself

(like the psychoanalyst keeps asking me)

Maybe this time

it will be better

not so many phonies and mean guys

not such a stinking school

Don't forget

to brush your teeth

Lousy teeth shouldn't matter to people

but they do

Even though you're just a kid, Phoebe

I know you understand

I couldn't stay where I was

I had to leave

I'm sorry I made you cry

and that I took your Christmas money

and that the record I bought for you broke

Love

Your brother

Holden

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Epistle, Letter from Holden Caulfield to his sister Phoebe from Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger

A True Christmas Tale

Twas two weeks before Christmas, when in Lola's house
We were having our coffee and starting to rouse.

The lights were all strung on the tree from last night

The ornaments also, with nary a fight!

The daughter was nearly all ready for school
And was counting the days til the coming of yule.
And I was quite pleased decorations were done
Now we could just settle back and have fun.

When out from the dining room there was a clatter
We sprang up like hares to see what was the matter.
Away to the tree we all flew like a flash
We looked in the room and saw what looked like trash!

The weight of the tree must have just been too much
The whole thing fell down, barely missing the hutch!
The base was still fastened real tight to the trunk

Spilling water all over the floor for a dunk!

The branches and needles were bent up and tattered
The fragile, glass ornaments - broken and shattered.
Slivers of broken glass lay on the floor
Cleaning this mess up would sure be a chore!

We looked at the scene and were very upset
The daughter said, "Family's not even here yet!"
Although this is not what I would have preferred

I just had to laugh; it was all so absurd.

At least no one got injured; the dogs are okay
Maybe this year, a fake tree is the way.
The neighbor might have a Wet Vac we can borrow
Or we can just leave it and fix it tomorrow!

not our tree but you get the idea! (source)

Mermaid in Blue Jeans

Personal Challenge #2

The inimitable Fireblossom issued me the second Personal Challenge here at Toads (do I hear the collective sigh of relief from the rest of you Toads that you don't have to compose a poem to follow her 2 jewels of the previous week? I thought so!)  My challenge was to choose a song about which I felt strongly and write about my associations to it. 

After several days of mouse-like concentration, I finally decided upon "Silent All These Years" by Tori Amos. This song speaks to me about a part of myself that somehow got lost during my years of focusing on my career and early motherhood.

Stolen Voice by Saturated Insanity

I heard the song

of the crimson haired mermaid

I heard her voice

and mine echoed back

Once upon a time

I, too, traded my voice

to an evil witch

She had many names and

many faces

but they all looked like me

only without my flaws

without my scars

Mermaid in blue jeans

I cut off my tongue

to walk among mortals

I found love but

lost my muse

to the sea foam

I rent my blouse
where no one would see

I should have known

tattered garments leave the marrow

cold

years of silence are

deafening

and the most evil witches

are those in the glass

 In my head
I kept hearing her song
I whispered a note

and the mermaids answered

I sang

and the glass shattered

I screamed

and heard my own voice

no longer silent

I sing

I sing

I sing of love

of sex

of death

of blood

and it's not always beautiful

and it's not perfect

but it's true.

submitted by lolamouse for Personal Challenge #2 at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

Be Prepared!

Preparation is the answer
Don't be caught off guard
Do your work a little early
It's not all that hard.

Hang your Christmas lights up 'fore the
leaves have all gone brown
Next year you'll be ready if you
never take them down!

Buy your Christmas presents at the
sales on New Years Day
Keep them in the closet safely
wrapped and tucked away.

Come the holidays and they sit
underneath the tree
You find you don't remember what on
Earth those gifts could be!

A tie for Uncle Edward who just
died the month before
Tap shoes for little Susie who's not
dancing anymore.

A His and Hers bath towel set for your
cousins Nan and Nate
who decided this past summer they were
going to separate.

With just a little planning it's not
difficult to do
Preparation is a gift
that you give to you!

submitted for Poetic Bloomings, Prompt 33, Be Prepared
and Smiley Sociology, Study 11, Gifts

Seize the Day

image by Mostafa Habibi

I waited for the perfect day

to set out on the seas

for winds that blew just hard enough

to make a gentle breeze

The sun, the clouds, they had to be

up in the Heavens so

as to create the setting for

my dream seaside tableau

My boat, she waited in the sea

for that auspicious time

and I was buried in the sand

for I could not leave home.

submitted for Magpie Tales 95

and Sunday Mini Challenge, A Classic Hit (ballad ala Emily Dickinson), at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

Nick's Eyes

(I think I must have channeled a country music writer for this one. I have no other explanation!)

Blue As the Sky by PinkLemonDesigns

She has eyes like her Daddy's

of cornflower blue

the brightest you've seen in your life

She's been on this earth

for only ten years

and already seen too much strife

Her brother left home

at the age of sixteen

he's hustlin' somewhere on the street

Her mother is bitter

a widow too young

but her girl's brought her nothin' but sweet

So why won't you see her?

Why won't you call?

It's gettin' tough telling her lies

I know that you miss him

I know that it's hard

to look at her and see

Nick's eyes.

Those crazy bright blue eyes

your son gave to her

You always knew that they were kin

She was your favorite

though you'd never tell

but the day Nicky passed on was when

You covered her pictures

won't utter her name

turn your back to her although she cries

It hurts you too much

to look at her face

because what you see are

Nick's eyes.

Nick was your son

seems a crime against God

You always thought that you'd go first

Losing somebody 

leaves a hole in your soul

and losing your child is the worst

But you're not the only one

crying at night

There's a little girl praying she dies

Her Daddy's in heaven

and her Grandpa won't call

she can't understand though she tries

So please go and see her

Give her a call

She don't need to say more goodbyes

Her blue eyes are glassy

so hug her real tight

and look for the smile in

Nick's eyes.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Fireblossom Friday, Arrivals and Departures

City

source

Tunnel

vision opens 

grey monsters towering

torn tenements

evil intents

tense movements

quick quick quick

can't stop 

can't look at map

tourist trap

don't get trapped

don't smile

don't make eye contact

don't get conned

don't get

beat beat beat

Pulse of the city beats

faster and faster

feel the blood throb

flash mob

flash flesh

fresh flesh

walking the street

looking to score

looking to scare

looking scared

scarred

looking

looking

City don't care.

submitted for Thursday Think Tank 77, the City, at Poets United

The Swing, Redux

When I was too young to read them myself
my mother would read them to me
out of a book that I kept on my shelf
a Garden of Verse--poetry!

I'll always remember my favorite one
It seemed to me that it could sing
the way that the rhythm and rhyme had been done
The name of the verse was "The Swing"

After a long day of playing outside
I loved to come back home and then
listen to Mom read that poem to me
and feel myself swinging again!

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, The Gift of Poetry

image source

All the Lonely People

Lunch, George Tooker, 1964, Columbus Museum of Art

Lunch hour again

The people eat so much food

and they leave hungry

submitted for Magpie Tales 94

Forever Young

source

Her face

preserved perfection

expression frozen in amber

lines erased

with all evidence of living

the Fountain of Youth through a

needle.

submitted for Sunday Mini Challenge, Cameo, at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

Soul's Whisper

photo by Ella Wilson

The more you scream

the less I hear

The more you insist

the more I resist

The more you demand

the less I comply

Your protestations, judgments

make me more accepting

Your damnation

makes me embrace the damned

Your profligate piety

leaves me revolted

Your smug certitude

makes me question all

No one knows

least of all, you

Faith

is a whisper from the soul

Shut your mouth

Perhaps you will hear.

submitted for Thursday Think Tank, Soul's Whisper, at Poets United

Morpheus

Neil Gaiman's The Sandman
picture source

 

When night's black hand chokes out the light

You pray like hell to fall asleep

And there find madness or delight

You're in the Dreaming, dark and deep

Within this realm, King Dream does rule

This is the land he calls his home

The dreams he conjures may be cruel

Beware the time after the gloam

What you expect is what you see

Sand in your eyes, you sleep and then

When dreams become reality

You may not ever wake again.

submitted for dVerse Poetics, We're Going Comic, at dVerse Poets Pub

Lighthouses and Cigarettes

source

When I said I was leavin'

I didn't expect you to beg me to stay

but when you said

I understand, baby

that just about killed me cuz

I ain't understood nothin' since 

we been together

You can keep the Stevie Ray albums

but I'm taking the Muddy Waters

it kinda grew on me

and I'm leaving you my Bonnie

cuz you need a good woman

The winds have died down

and my car's all packed

Shit, baby, you look so sweet

sittin' there on the porch

in your Levis and that old T shirt

with your hair all wet and

hangin' in your eyes

just like a little boy

but you always are the calmest

after a storm

I better go 

and now I know

why people say they can't look back

cuz if I do, I might just see 

the ashes on your cigarette

glowing

like a beacon on a lighthouse

calling me home.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Friday Picture Prompt, To the Lighthouse

source

Under the Rug

Hey you!

Look under the rug

Afraid?

just lift up a corner and peek

So many of us hidden here

brusquely swept away

prodded with broom handles or

gently coaxed

It's dark and dank

Even the dust bunnies

avoid us

Well, fuck 'em!

We'll party on our own

 dance like there's no tomorrow

cuz for some of us

there's not

Our own little purgatory

where we won't make nice folk

uncomfortable

It's cramped and crowded

but there's always room for more

Give us your dirty

your infected

your ugly

your violated

Walk on our heads

like we're not here

You can't even hear us

gnawing on your floorboards.

World AIDS Day

image source

My friend has AIDS and I'm angry. I'm angry that everywhere I go, I don't see mugs, cereal boxes, T-shirts, pins, hats, and even cookies with red ribbons on them like I did in October with the pink breast cancer ribbons. I'm angry that corporate America is too afraid of tarnishing their precious images to put big bucks into HIV/AIDS research and prevention. I'm angry that millions of people still don't have adequate healthcare, still don't know their HIV status, and can't afford their medications when they need them. I'm angry that although we know that condoms can help prevent the spread of HIV infection, there are still people who vote down sex education in the schools. I'm angry that there are people who call themselves Christians who believe that AIDS is a punishment sent by God for immoral behavior and who sully the name of true Christians. I'm angry that so many people think that since they don't hear about AIDS deaths on the news every day, there isn't a problem any longer.

AIDS is still here. There is still no cure. Treatment has advanced, but medications are very expensive and have devastating side-effects. They are not effective for everyone. It's World AIDS Day Today. Remember those who are still living with this disease. Viruses don't discriminate.

(Rabbit-You are an inspiration to me in every respect. Keep kickin' virus butt, love!)