Amy Leigh

source

You can't take the buzz

outta the bee

And you can't take the want

outta Amy Leigh

Her mama fed her honey milk

whenever baby cried

Now she got a bad sweet tooth

no man can satisfy

All the boys keep tryin'

to make her keen on them

Amy Leigh kissed one or two

then tossed them right back in

Her daddy tried to beat the want

outta Amy Leigh

He just wore out his own damn hand

gave up and let her be

The preacher called her sinner

said she gonna burn in Hell

Amy Leigh just smiled real nice

and said, "Well then, I will."

Coz you can't take the buzz

outta the bee

And no one's gonna take the want

outta Amy Leigh.

submitted for Poetry Jam, The Buzz on Bees

Tiger Swallowtail

source

Darkness and light lie 

side by side

Lovers

Making each other stronger by opposition

You are composed of dichotomies:

Fragile wings 

the colors of a killer

Soaring born of crawling

Beauty and grace from lowliness

You are a stringless kite

Dipping and diving

to escape your earthbound origins

You inspire awe, envy

Desire

You are free

You are imperiled

from those who seek to kill

what they can not possess.

submitted for Poetry Jam, Your Stripes, My Stripes

The Family Circus

The circus is in town!

Look! You have tickets!

No, you may not return them-

Attendance is mandatory so

Pack the family in the car and

LOOK HAPPY!

We know the show is supposed to start at two

We can all read a clock

But some of our best performers are running a bit late

We wouldn't want to begin without them

WOULD WE?

I will be your Master of Ceremonies

Please take a seat

No, not there

Let's begin the show!

For God's sake, try to look like you're ENJOYING yourself!

I know that the magician isn't on the program

I invited him myself

His act hasn't fared well lately so please

Make him feel WELCOME!

Here comes the lion tamer!

Don't you LOVE this part of the show?

A whip and chair versus

Fangs and claws

Will either emerge unscathed?

Too MESSY for you?

Well, here comes the clown to lighten the mood!

Don't be a killjoy-

A little wine never hurt anyone!

 

Yes, we all know the elephant is sad

She tries to be entertaining but

She's just so BIG!

I'm always afraid she'll crush something

or someone!

No, we can't leave her out-

She's part of the show!

What's wrong?

Don't you like the concessions?

Well, you've hardly touched your popcorn!

And we roasted the peanuts just for you!

But don't feel OBLIGATED or anything.

Look up there!

The tightrope walker thinks she's above it all!

It's a fine line 

between up there and down here, sister!

Don't get shaky--

You just may FALL!

Unbelievable!

The show is over already!

Applause, applause!

Drive safely, folks and

We'll see you all here NEXT YEAR!!! 

submitted for Poetry Jam, Under the Big Top

  

The Migraine Monster

by isabel
(cleveland) [link]

Even when you're not here

you're here

You're an evil shadow

I cannot escape

A blood curse

passed down from grandfather to mother to me

and now to my daughter

How many generations will you devour?

What will sate your hatred?

You sap joy

Extinguish willpower

Day and night mean nothing to you

You find me in dreams

and turn wakefulness into a nightmare

The constant fear

of hearing your footsteps
just beyond perception is
the worst

Just waiting for
 your next attack.

submitted for Poetry Jam, Poetic Monster Mash

Form and Function

It Must Be Time For Lunch Now, 1979, by Francesca Woodman

Forks, spoons, knives

These are just tools,

Forms to accomplish some

Function,

Such as the delivery of food to

The body.

Chopsticks, fingers

Would also suit

The purpose.

The beauty 
of the form lies 
in its ability to perform

The task.

Does the fork’s metal catch the light

To bake the perfect print?

Do the chopsticks hold the hair

In a delicious bun atop the head?

Is the finger the correct length and diameter

For a dependable and silent purge?

Is the knife sharp enough to slice away the pain

Without killing the host?

submitted for The Mag, Mag 137 

and Poetry Jam, Love and Hate

Letter From the Dead On the Side of the Road

Do you even see the damage you cause?
Open your eyes!
Look at your highways
They are littered
with the broken shells of our homes
Splattered
with our torn and twisted bodies
Asphalt painted
red with our spilled blood

Your glass and metal armor
turns us to fragments
fur, feathers, bone
Years of nurture and struggle
rubbed out
in a kiss with a radial tire

Look at us!
Can you bear it?
Will you say a prayer
for the Dead?
Do you even notice the ghosts
riding on your hood
scratching at your windows
pecking at your eyes?

(Saw yet another dead box turtle on the road today-it had gotten hit by a car. The road wasn't even a busy one; why can't people just pay attention and slow down?!!)

submitted for Theme Thursday, Eyes
and Poetry Jam, Letters

Elixir of Summer Rain

source

The buzzing of cicadas in the night

As bats begin to circle through the air

The song of the spring peepers trills so light

When day's frenetic pace turns laissez-faire

Black crickets chirrup secrets we can't share

A barred owl calls "Who cooks for you?" unseen

An echo seems to answer from somewhere

On silent wings they fly off to convene

In pools of water plunk proud frogs of green

Shy deer emboldened rustle through the wet

Leaves in the summer rain glow with a sheen

And darkest nights shine as if polished jet

This magic fills each drop of summer rain

An anodyne to ease the winter's pain

submitted for Think Tank Thursday, #107 Sound, at Poets United
and Poetry Jam, Do You Believe in Magic?

source

Dryad

photo by Rosie Hardy

Come to the forest

Come when your heart is as full as the moon

and your desire blazes like a shooting star

Do not fear the sentries;

 they observe your entry

but ignore trespass

when intent is pure

Search out the message that I have written for you

in the trivialities of veins in the leaves

Read its significance

with your fingertips

You have always touched wood

wishing

I am waiting 

with your answer.

submitted for Poets United, Vice Versa #6

and Poetry Jam, Daydream Believers

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

Illusions

Pablo Picasso: Girl Before a Mirror, 1932

I try on words like

 clothes in a bargain basement

department store

Under the harsh lights

my bare feet on grimy, threadbare carpet

I imagine a perfect fit

Beauty

One look in the mirror shatters

the illusion

Excess verbiage

Underdeveloped ideas

Loose phrases hanging off the body

The words looked so much sexier

in my head than

on the paper

With a sigh, I hang them back up

with all the other rejects.

submitted for Poetry Jam, Painting a Picture With Words

Far From This Tree

source

1977

Parkland Junior High

You were older and tougher

and to this day I don't have a clue why

you targeted me

You said it was because I had threatened

your friend's little sister

which was untrue and ridiculous

Maybe you believed it

or believed it enough

to justify

The taunts I could deal with

but the threats brought me low

with shame and fear

Usually vague

"I'm gonna get you"

but sometimes mind racingly specific

"I'm gonna tear your earrings outta your earlobes"

Of course, I stopped wearing earrings

Changed my route from school

Even faked illness to stay home 

and away from you

Friends were no help

They were scared too

even the boys

No adults knew

I hated you but

I hated myself more

for being afraid of you

for retreating

for writing poems

instead of standing up to you

Fast forward 20-odd years

another middle school

Bus ride

The cool clique of girls throwing paper

in my daughter's hair

Although I've taught her to use her words

she turns around

punches one of them

hard

 I smile with pride.

submitted for Poetry Jam, Bully

The Forest Edge

source

I wanted to walk in the forest with you

I took your hand

We stepped to the edge where vines grew thick

and flowers smelled sweet and dangerous

like the perfume we purloined 

from your mother's dresser

As our lips touched

I swear I heard the dryads sing

and I ached to follow but

you turned away

laughing

How many times

have I returned to that day?

How many times 

have I tried to find that mossy forest entrance?

But the path is closed

In its place, a tangle of dried brambles 

and withered blooms

scentless

like a dusty bottle of evaporated perfume.

submitted for Poetry Jam, Where Is Your Forest?

Little Star

picture of my daughter when she was much younger (she's 16 now)

Shine on little star

Claim your place in the sky; your light

shall not be obscured

You are a daughter

of the Sun and Moon, no lesser than

the many sons

Your beauty 

illuminates the night

Your radiance

guides the way

Your fire

will protect you and those you love

Do not be daunted by the vastness

of the Heavens

They were made for you

to have a place to dance

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Kenia's Wednesday Challenge, Celebrate the Feminine

and Poetry Jam, Face the Facts

Amber

source

 You

oozed anger

out of every pore

Seething

Burning

Hot

Trapped everyone 

in your path

of caustic destruction

But time

tempers

even the whitest flame

Anger hardens

fossilizes amberlike

You 

polish your distortions

hoard your resentments

like precious stones

string them

on a necklace of self-righteousness

so heavy

You

can't even

breathe.

submitted for Poetry Jam, So How Do You Feel?

No Limits

“Every 47 minutes, a woman tests positive for HIV in the United States."
 
How limited is your compassion?

How can you judge another's worth

as if they were a piece of fashion

How limited is your compassion?

Your love and care you need not ration

The more you give, the less the dearth

How limited is your compassion?

How can you judge another's worth?

submitted for Poetry Jam,  Inner and Outer Limits

and dVerse Poets Pub, Form For All, Triolets

Love Brings

West path, grey morning (2009) by Thomas Robinson

On dove grey mornings Love brings me the hues

He lends the day its colors from his eyes

The ashen sky is painted shades of blues

I turn to him and smile as I rise

On tuneless mornings Love brings me the song

The day begins with love notes soft and clear

And in his voice the words are never wrong

A harmony so gentle to the ear

On jagged mornings Love brings me the balm

He smooths my edges til they're not so rough

He touches me, restores my sense of calm

But knows that nights are made of different stuff

Where Love brings days of color, song, and light
In dark mystery and quiet, rules the night.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Happy Leap Day Toads

and Poetry Jam, Anaphora Poem

so much depends

so much depends
upon

a pink lined dip
stick

drizzled with morning
urine

atop the white
sink.


submitted for Poetry Jam, "So Much Depends Upon... "

Tiny Miracles

photo by lolamouse

 Purple crocus heads

Push skyward through white snow drifts

Triumph of the sun

Red breasted robin

Chatters, nags, pecks, and complains

I can't help but laugh

Cherry blossom buds

Like strawberry jelly beans

Offer Spring's sweetness

submitted for Poetry Jam, Have You Seen a Miracle Lately?

The Girl Who Loves Winter

photo by Richard Schear

The girl who loves Winter

sleeps with her windows open

She believes 

 the icicles hanging from the panes

keep her as safe as iron bars

The dregs of her chamomile tea

have been known to freeze during the night

This amuses the girl who loves Winter

and in the morning she licks clean the teacup

like a popsicle

The girl who loves Winter
 wears hoarfrost

whiter than baby's breath

in her black hair

She keeps a snowball in her freezer

for those times when

she feels sad and

needs something to hold against her heart

The girl who loves Winter

once had a lover

but his heat

melted the ice 

that was her home
his passion

the substance of 

her very self

The girl who loves Winter

found herself disappearing into

limpid puddles on the ground

so she had to send him away

but on her nightstand

next to a vase of dried flowers

The girl who loves Winter

keeps a jar

where she can see

his warm breath.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Sunday Photo Challenge 
Poetry Jam, Hot and Cold

photo by MyWonderlandAsylum

Tempt Me

source

Tempt me

You never know

the things I will

do

the places I will

go

if you tempt me

just so

Paint ice hot flames

around our bed

Dare me 

to enter

with a silent stare

and a guilty smile

Play me

slow smoky jazz sounds

with your eyes

Write me poems

with your tongue

down my neck 

to the small of my back

and dot the 'i' s 

with frost covered cherry blossoms

Tempt me

Master all of my senses

Take them from me

I confess 

I am no innocent

Use me

I am your canvas

I am your book

Bind me well

Keep me

tempted.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Fireblossom Fridays, Temptation
Poetry Jam, Hot and Cold
Poets United, Vice Versa, Midnight Snack #5 (Sound/Silence; Guilt/Innocence)
dVerse Poets Pub, dVerse Poetics, Meeting the Bar, A Martian Sharpens His Knife