Which Princess Are You?

Photo by Christopher Jobson for Colossal

The princesses of Dismaland

are dismayed

by their company's poor marketing strategies

and lackluster consumer demand

Tinderella

is desperately seeking a hook-up

She checks her phone constantly

disappointed by the dearth of hot guys

Snow White Lives Matter Too

thinks she's socially conscious

and not at all racist

but just doesn't get it

Mariel

escaped her country on a crappy little boat

filled with convicts and the mentally ill

and nearly drowned in toxic waste-filled water

Jazzmine

is a brilliant artist

She is addicted to heroin

and will eventually be found dead in the Castle

Belle Jarre

is quite melancholy

and wanders the park 

with her head in an oven

Chip and Dale

two washed-up ex-strippers

try to enliven the girls by offering lap dances

There are no takers

Even Pluto

the princesses' favorite pet

can't help cheer them up 

Corporate deemed him no longer a character

He now sits outside the gates

howling at passers-by

and begging for scraps.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Tuesday Platform 

Pigeon Superstition

source

You tell me that you love me

But you run so hot and cold

You hug me then you shove me

I just can't get a hold

You swear to God you need me

And then you walk away

You never wanna see me

Then you're beggin' me to stay

You're random with affection

I just can't seem to score

It's pigeon superstition

Keeps me pecking for more

You say that I'm so special

That no one else will do

But then I find your texts

with all the girls you wanna screw

You plead with me to keep you

You need me by your side

But I can't help from feelin'

I'm being taken for ride

You love me then ignore me

It's paradise or hell

It's pigeon superstition

and it's workin' so well

I love you and I hate you

You got me in a rage

It's pigeon superstition

and I'm stuck in the cage.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, The Tuesday Platform  and a very belated
Pigeon Superstition

A Calling Out

This poem is not polite

This poem means to trespass

This poem is angry

You call me immoral

Your morals are conveniences

You are a hypocrite

No, this poem is not polite

You value life

and support the death penalty

Does inconsistency make you uncomfortable?

This poem trespasses on your comfort

The only life you value

is rich and white

Others you condemn to suffer

This poem understands anger

This poem spits at politeness

This poem trespasses through your morals

This poem is angry.

Too many words for Flash 55+ so submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Tuesday Platform

Girl In Black

I am the girl in black

I wrap myself in blind heartbreak

thick and dark as pitch

The people have branded me

a witch of sorts

What facile assumption!

I, my dear, am a werewolf

I have no need for spells

or dolls with pins

I have claws more caustic

than a scorpion's sting

Teeth that tear through flesh

easy as butter

Men fear me

I am blood

and bite

I am tides

and howling at the moon

They hunt

what they can not understand

or possess

Are you afraid?

Come a little closer

Can you detect my scent?

I wear my blood like perfume

It is quite enticing

once you get past the gore

I know what you're thinking

"She'd be wild in bed"

Well, come lay with me

and I'll show you wild

I will devour you

Savor your taste

on my tongue

and lick my lips 

when I am finished.

submitted for Magpie Tales Mag 278
and The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 207
and Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Tuesday Platform

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

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

Beginning Witchery

witch by MercuroBCotto

Shannan entered the scene just as Lola finished the spell:
"I warned you to stop catcalling women on the street! Now I'll turn you into a newt!"
Shannan assessed the man, now reptile, and sighed
"You better practice your spells. This is a skink, not a newt!"
Lola countered
"Skink, newt, same difference. He's got 4 legs and a tail."
"Well, by that logic, you may as well have turned him into a toy poodle!" Shannan fumed
"Sloppy spells come from an undisciplined mind. You need to focus, Lola!"
"Quit hounding me, Shannan! You're such a perfectionist!"
And with that, Lola pointed at Shannan and mumbled some incomprehensible words
"Ha! How do you like that, Ms. Perfect?!! I turned you into a frog! Now go hop away and leave me alone!"
The amphibian, formerly human, stared at Lola and spoke in a perturbed monotone
"I'm a toad, you nitwit."

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads,Tuesday Platform 

Bird Watching

source

City sounds

Urban birdsong

A cacophonous May canvas

"Shoe shine! Shoooooe shine! Shooooooe shiiiine!"

sings a gray feathered bird

his capped head bent over

his springtime work

"Needa fat bitch! Oooooh, I needa fat bitch!"

another's shrill chirp distracts

passersby

Pigeons peck at the sidewalk

for crumbs

A small brown bird lands

on my shoulder

"Gotta minute? Gotta minute?"

he chirps in my ear

I pause to listen

Lost nest, hungry babies

Feeling the pull of the crowd

I almost brush him off then

consider the $35 box of gourmet donuts

tucked under my own wing

Give him money for food

and a little more for his family

Then watch him fly away.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Tuesday Platform

Where the Softness Resides

I heard your words and
gained courage to speak
Your words
wrapped around me
like a warm, hand knit blanket
The ice began to melt from my fingers
and my heart

Your words showed me
how disappointment and failure
can be beautiful
How confusion and fear
are worthy of love
I keep that blanket
near me always
in case I should ever forget

The edges of that blanket
are most loved
Rubbed threadbare
Chewed on
Warn and frayed
These are the most comforting
It's where the softness resides.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Tuesday Platform

Echo House

Welcome to Echo House
The walls are voices
Screams of injustice
Cries of despair
Lost souls comprise
the halls
Come in
Have a bowl of empty
We choke on it every day
We have so much nothing
we are drowning in it
There is always room for more
Stay a while
Bring your shame
your disappointment
your hopelessness
We will nurture them
Leave your dignity
at the door
Should you keep it with you
be warned
The cat will hunt it down
and play with it like a mouse
until she grows bored
and kills it.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Tuesday Platform

Fleeting and Precious

source

Time stops

for a moment, frozen

The bay

hides her secrets under

a cold, varnished lid

Branches of tall oaks

sheathed in shimmer

Pine needles

ensconced in ice

Winter's toothpicks

Dogwood

dripping diamonds

Ephemeral jewels

fleeting and

precious.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Tuesday Platform

Note: I was inspired by the caption to a FB post from Dusty and Vicki Rhoades which read, "Dogwood dripping diamonds"

That Guy

Does anyone know that weird guy over there?

He's been here all night, just to drink and to stare!

Does anyone know who invited him here?

He gives me the creeps with his grin and his leer!

He's been nursing that drink for well over an hour

His hair is so greasy, and he needs a shower!

Everyone else is just dancing and talking

He hasn't moved once; I think that he's stalking!

Not anyone here even knows this guy's name

How'd he get in here and what is his game?

He's holding that cig like he thinks it's seductive

Doesn't he know that it's counterproductive?

Oh my God! Really?!! He gave me a wink

Now I feel dizzy-hey, what's in this drink?

I think that I'd better just go and lie down

If he comes near me, I'll puke on that clown!

submitted for Magpie Tales, Mag 256

and Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, The Tuesday Platform

Moth Heart

I never fell for magic tricks

until I fell for you

You knew my cards

before I looked at them

Cut people in half

and made them whole

I was mesmerized

You made my heart disappear

under a silk handkerchief

and left in its place

a moth

The flutter of its wings

felt so much like heartbeats

I barely noticed it was missing

until the moth flew away

like one of your magic doves

I keep hoping you will return

to make me whole again.

submitted for Magpie Tales, Mag 255

and Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Tuesday Platform

Tonight the Moon

source

Tonight the moon

lays against the sky

Perfect white crescent

on  black canvas

Tonight the stars

shimmer in place

Janurary snowflakes

on jet black hair

Tonight the barred owl

questions the stillness

Waits for a reply

as do I.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Tuesday Platform

Black Out Poetry: The Heart

The heart

may be
deceptively
absent

Insidious,

presenting only
 loss

Absent

Alone

Fatal

Its nature-

irregular

tangled masses of

destruction/

response/

destruction/

response

Difficult

deeply buried

ground fresh

Growing

Healing

through time

(perhaps).

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Tuesday Platform (though inspired by a prompt I missed at dVerse Poets Pub about black out poetry!) I used one of my husband's outdated pathology books for this one!

There Should Be a Word

There should be a word
for the experience of newly washed cotton sheets
hanging on the clothesline
A word that expresses
more than the fresh, clean smell of linen
more than the buttery warmth of the sun
on your face when you look up
to fasten the clothespins
more than the feeling
of home
of renewal
of nostalgia for apple pie cooling on the window pane
(even if your mother never baked apple pie)
A word for the wholeness of the experience

I'm thinking of a word
like petrichor
Petrichor captures the entire sensuousness
of the just-having-rained feeling
Say that one word
and everyone knows exactly what you mean
(once you define it for them)

There should be more
of these words
but since there are not,
I present to you a picture:
Newly washed cotton sheets
hanging on a clothesline
I hope that you understand.

submitted for Magpie Tales, Mag 252
and Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, The Tuesday Platform