Monarch

Monarch in autumn
Orange black wings against brown
Life persists in death.

submitted for Mind, Love, Misery's Menagerie, Heeding Haiku w/HA, Drop Your Haiku Somewhere

origami butterfly w/haiku left on table at county bldg.

Seabird

Alex Alemany

I gaze outside the window at the shore

I watch the water kiss the dock below

The language of the swells tells me there's more

than you or I could ever hope to know

A seabird hovers just within my reach

She seems to understand my restless need

These bars of your cold cage I long to breach

Your unrelenting claims I cannot heed

I'd offer you my heart to keep the peace

but you've no love for sentimental things

Your endless expectations never cease

You want me as your trophy, without wings

You say you love me but it is not so

It never will be, so now I must go.

submitted for Photo Prompt #7, "The Dove" at mindlovemisery's menagerie

Working the Dough

Yeast blooms in a warm bath
like living fireworks exploding
under a flourescent sky
Powdery flour is worked until
arms burn
fingers ache
then worked again
and again
transforming
into an elastic glutenous glob
Then
it sleeps
under a blanket of quiet heat
becoming its own pillow
When it wakes,
it births five little pillows
that grow in the oven
like premies in an incubator
until,
shiny and golden,
they emerge.

Wednesday's project: Challah for Rosh Hashanah

submitted for mindlovemisery, Prompt 19, Food

Mouse Heart

My heart

nestled
in a space under the floorboards

I hid it

years ago

There it stayed

Period.

I couldn’t risk it

being misused again

I learned

by degrees

how to function without

Didn’t even miss it any more

Almost

Then I dreamed

(or maybe it was a vision)

I put my heart back

into my empty chest

It beat again;

I was persuaded

I should have known

Dreams are not

to be trusted

if we are to survive

unscathed

My heart grayed,

a small, dead mouse

I wear around my neck

as a tribute

to you, my love.

submitted for mindlovemisery, Prompt 17, Pessimist

and The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 122, A Baker's Dozen

Memories and Magic

image from cover of "The Ocean At the End of the Lane"

Go the pond

At the end of the lane

Think of the girl

Remember again

Standing inside

The green fairy ring

Nothing can hurt you

Forget everything

Marble of glass

Soldier of tin

Swallow the ocean

Breath it all in

Fight with the monsters

The sheets from your bed

Nightmares of grown-ups

Take root in your head

Childhood demons

Tore you apart

Banished, but still

Left a hole in your heart.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Words Count With MZ

and mindlovemisery, Prompt 15, Childhood Dreams 

(inspired by Neil Gaimon's new book, The Ocean At the End of the Lane)

Return To Sender

from The Mag 179

...And when the landfills could hold no more,

Not one more old tire or rusted toilet,

The people sent their garbage to the sky

Rockets loaded with tons of trash

Launched into the air

High above the clouds that pillowed

Polluted cities

The people could not see the space flotsam

So they forgot all about it

Until it was time to send up more

And more

And more

Soon, the sky could hold

Discarded junk

Rained down

From the heavens

“Return To Sender”

submitted for The Mag, Mag 179 

and mindlovemisery, Prompt 14, The Music of Jeff Buckley(inspired by "The Sky Is a Landfill"

Thinking About Hydrangeas

photo by mindlovemisery

“He was more of a father to me

than my own lousy father,” said she

I wondered how bad it really must be

for an eight year-old to say those words

 so casually

Then she said, “Light blue

is my favorite color.”

Just another fact

And I pause to react,

“You really miss your grandfather.”

This is, after all, about grief

Speaking it to give some relief

So she speaks

Her words explode,

bullets searching for a target

Granddad let her spend the night

when Mom and Dad would scream and fight

Now she has nowhere to go

to escape the horror show that plays

itself out when Dad starts to drink

And she thinks he learned it

from his own dad

The cursing, that is,

The alcohol, too

And one time, he choked Mom

til she was almost blue

The dog is scared of him

‘cuz he get a little intense

She tries to make it all make sense when

anyone can see it’s just insane

“Are we going swimming if it starts to rain?” she asks me

And we’re off on something else now

and I remember reading about a flower 

whose color depends on the soil pH

What color will she bloom, growing in hate?

Who will nourish her now or

Is it too late

for this flower to flourish?

for this girl of eight? 

submitted for Prompt 13, Photo Inspiration, at mindlovemisery 

and dVerse Poets Pub, Open Link Night 106

and Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Open Link Monday