Softly, mostly

Softly, mostly,

a moth's wings

beating against closed palms,

comes the flutter

Too new to name

Inchoate emotion

We must wait,

see what blooms

Coax with quiet,

hope

Sometimes,

weakness is winnowed

Dies before it is born,

breath stolen by a ghost

or a doubt

But sometimes,

a bud

catches the light of a thousand sunrises,

 blossoms with joy

Sometimes,

a gentle awakening,

the footfall of fairies

dancing on ivory keys.

submitted for The Mag, Mag 205 
and for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Kerry Says Find Your Creative Space

Resolutions

source

The second day of the New Year

opens its eyes

Broken resolutions lay

on the floor like a shattered champagne flute

Sweep them into the dustpan

and lay them to rest with the stale leftovers

You think they are forgotten

Yet they merely lay buried

with the second verse of "Auld Lang Syne"

and the tiny shard of glass

that pricks your foot

in the most tender spot

like a broken promise.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Kerry Says: Let's Make a Few Resolutions

White on White

source

Black and white

held up to the light

As I wait, biting

what's left of my nails

Black or white

Yes or no

Clean or not

Stay or go 

Black and white

but something's not right

The evil could hide

in plain sight when

there's not enough night

to contrast with the day

on the x-ray 

White on white

Cotton in snow

doesn't quite show

so how do I know?

Fifty-fifty chance

they miss a spot,

report that it's not

and then, what?

Black and white

And I sit tight

trying to fight my fears

All of these years

Being told I'm clear

but all may not be

as it appears.

Poet's Comment: I don't usually explain my poems, but this is about early breast cancer detection and it's important. Did you know that breast density influences the accuracy of a mammogram? Dense breast tissue is comprised of less fat and more glandular tissue. On a mammogram, dense tissue appears white and cancerous tumors also appear white, making it nearly impossible to "see" the tumor. While mammogram can find about 98% of cancers in women with fatty breast tissue, it finds only about 48% of cancers in women with dense breast tissue. If you have dense breasts, you may want to get an ultrasound or MRI in addition to a routine mammogram. Some states now mandate that information about breast density be included on a mammogram report. Find out. Check out this site for more info.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Kerry's Wed. Challenge, Black and White

Bloom

I planted oleander along the path to my door
You plucked one
and tucked it behind your ear

You made a bouquet
of the marigolds and tulips
and tossed it into the air; it became
sunlight

In my window box, love lies bleeding
You planted snowdrops
to stanch the blood

You stood with me
beneath the willow's branches
and waited
until the rain stopped
and the sun dripped on us
like warm, sweet butter.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Kerry's Wed. Challenge, The Language of Flowers


key to flower symbolism:

oleander - warning
marigold - grief, pain
yellow tulip - hopeless love
love lies bleeding (amaranthus) - hopelessness
snowdrop - hope, consolation
willow - sadness

The Morrigan

source

You think you want me, 

that I am what you desire

Fool, you don't know me

You don't even begin to understand

My fierceness would make you tremble

My fight would make you cower

You may dress in black

and line your eyes with kohl

but I can see the fear

that lives there

When you feel the whisper

of my raven feathers and the word

"No" catches in your throat,

it will be too late

Don't say I didn't warn you.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Kerry's Wednesday Challenge, Gods in Nature 

in which we are asked to write about a Celtic (or other) god. I went with the Morrigan, Celtic goddess of Death and War

Being, Nothingness, and Hoarding: A True Story

First an admission:

I was watching “Hoarding, Buried Alive” last night,

(now that that’s on the table, I can continue with the rest of this poem)

when I suddenly realized

that the problem with hoarders

(aside from the filth, health hazards, and destroyed relationships)

is that they attach significance to everything

and are thus unable to part with anything.

This seems to me an essentially existential problem:

If life has no meaning other than what we attach to it,

then hoarders are using their possessions to create a meaningful life.

If everything (every thing) has significance,

then the more things one has, the more significant one’s life.

Perhaps, this behavior is a reaction formation:

(I apologize here 

for introducing a Freudian paradigm into this poem about existentialism)

Hoarders so fear nothingness

that they are compelled to fill every void with stuff.

Continued accumulation equals continued meaningfulness;

purging equals surrendering to the emptiness of life.

Hoarding thus creates quite the paradox:

Hoarders hoard to give life meaning,

but

the more they hoard, the more they lose

(like friends, family, health, money, shelter)

so their lives become increasingly lonely and empty.

This all made me feel very sad,

so I changed the channel

and watched Law and Order: SVU for a while.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Kerry's Wed. Challenge, Existentialism

The Girl Who Loves Winter III

Winter breeze by Pure-Poison 89

The girl who loves winter

feels lonely

in her snow globe

She talks

to the ghosts of her breaths

and dances alone

to the music of icicles dripping

and windsong

One night she prays

to her favorite snow angel

for someone to love

Come morning

she finds frozen earth

a sodden feather

and puddles of angel tears

The girl who loves winter

feels cold

in a way that she doesn’t like

This scares her

She grabs

fistfuls of snow

She builds

and builds

The girl who loves winter

builds a snow lover

with branches for arms

stones for eyes

holly berries for a mouth

ready to receive her lips

The girl who loves winter

kisses her lover

Lips blue upon blue

Cold upon cold

She is embraced

by arms just born

Caressed by hands

new to touch

The girl who loves winter

knows warmth.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Kerry's Wed. Challenge, Worldbuilding

The Fringe of Grey

I could cast myself in white

Pure and innocent

and he the man in black

who led me astray

But we both know

We live on the fringe of grey.

I could say I wore baby’s breath in my hair

that he tempted me

with the scent of a red rose

But we both know

The grass was green and damp

and the columbines were in bloom.

I could remember the white of the paper gown

0r the black typeface of the consent form

(the first I had ever signed myself)

(Do you remember being seventeen?)

But I remember most

the blood stain,

my own scarlet “A,”

and the grey brick building

protesters with black and white signs,

yelling about life

and death

(Perhaps you were one of them?)

I could claim that I cast rue and marigold

upon the earth

Rend my clothing in grief

I could swear that I simply forget

Let the day pass each year

without my heart skipping a beat

But we both know
The truth is grey

and it cuts, not cleanly, but with a dull knife

So sometimes I still wonder

What If?

And most times I’m glad

but sometimes I cry.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Kerry's Wednesday Challenge, Breaking the 4th Wall

and Poets United, Wonder Wednesday #9, Shades of Grey

Hell Is Empty

painting by Micael Chadwick

 submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Kerry's Wednesday Challenge, (Very) Old School

inspired by a line from Shakespeare's The Tempest: "Hell is empty and all the devils are here."

and Poetry Jam, Mood Swings

Don't Poke the Tiger (A Cautionary Tale [Tail?])

Lady Ravendale, a Steampunk Girl by DPI Studios

Perhaps it was her uncanny feats of gymnastic swordsmanship

without messing her hair or popping her corset

or perhaps it was only fortuitous pheromones

but the moment young Felix Francis Fussbudget V lay eyes upon 

the lovely lass Lady Ravendale

he was totally and eternally smitten.

The feeling was mutual.

Luck with with the lad, as Lady Ravendale’s beloved pet tiger, 

Aloysius Fishbreath, took an instant liking to Felix,

for previous suitors had found themselves shredded

like cabbage heads for a carnivorous coleslaw.

Mrs. Millicent Filomena Fussbudget, long suffering wife of 

the Grim and Righteous Reverend Felix Francis Fussbudget IV, 

did not, however, approve of the impending union.

“The girl is haughty and proud, naughty and loud,”

 Mrs. Fussbudget decried. 

“And she dresses herself like an armadillo!  

Felix will marry her over my dead body!”

That evening, the Somewhat Less Grim but still Righteous 

Reverend Felix Francis Fussbudget IV performed the marriage

 of his son Felix Francis Fussbudget V and the Lady Ravendale.

Their pet tiger, Aloysius Fishbreath, was the ring bearer.

He was still licking his chops upon the altar.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Kerry's Wed. Challenge, Steampunk