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

Another Icarus

He always knew that he would die this way

From the moment he first felt the fire,

the warmth spreading over his body

that made all the pain go away,

he knew that he would never stop

He wasn't afraid of being burned

He flew higher

and higher

He wanted the sun for himself

if only once

And when he gave that final push,

he almost made it

Almost

But in the end

his wings turned to ash,

his body to dust

And the flame still burned.

submitted for Magpie Tales, Mag236 and
Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Open Link Monday

Lucky

They say that Marisol was born with
la suerte
Ever since she was a penqueña
luck followed her
like a hermanito

They say that when Marisol dreamt of numbers
her tío played them and won
She carried a rabbit’s foot on her key ring
wore 3 azabaches around her neck
and had a statue of the Virgen María in her yard
because, even with la suerte,
you can never be too careful
No sense in leaving a puerta abierta
for the mala suerte 

The day that Marisol met Marco
he was cursing at a flat tire in the rain
Marco didn’t believe in luck
or dreams
or God
He believed in logic,
rationality,
proof

When Marco left his hat on the bed
he laughed at Marisol’s scolding
and he never hung the medal of San Cristóbal
from his car mirror either

But they say that when Marco first kissed Marisol
he was heard to whisper, “Dios mío”
After that, he believed.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Open Link Monday and (very late) for The Mag, Mag 206

The Girl Who Loves Winter Wakes

Snowy Dreams by Natalia Drepina

The Girl Who Loves Winter

sleeps through the summer months

Impenetrable

to the sun's assault

She dreams

of a white fox

If you look closely,

you might see her silvery whiskers

and her ivory coat,

soft as elder down

The Girl Who Loves Winter

begins to stir and stretch

She lifts her head

just as you are bringing your plants indoors

before the first frost

Lento heartbeat

quickens to restless accelerando

as she steps into the cold

The Girl Who Loves Winter

raises her head to the granite sky

Snowflakes fall on her eyelashes

like butterfly kisses

from a long lost love.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Birthdays in January

November

source

We live on borrowed time

Now we must return

to our place of birth

The Earth beckons home

her wayward children

Leaves turn to soil

Gardens turn to seed

Ponds turn solid and impenetrable

November's breath 

petrifies as surely as Medusa's gaze

Summer maidens

shed their pale blossoms,

fruit into winter queens

Below the frozen ground,

they dream of innocence

and wait for the cleansing sun.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Get Listed-Good Neighbors

Penny Royalty

photo by Elena Kalis

 
She drowns under

the weight of mistakes,

consequences

Whispers a prayer to Selene,

Mover of tides

Keeper of rhythms

Prostrates herself

before her Queen

She knew the pain of lovers

She prays

to awaken

from nightmarish dreams

Please release

the threads

thin, but binding

Endymion sleeps

She sinks,

a penny in a wishing well.

Lyrics | Fleetwood Mac lyrics - Sisters Of The Moon lyrics


submitted for The Mag, Mag 182 and
Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Out of Standard w/Izy, Blue Moon Special and
dVerse Poets Pub, Meeting the Bar, It's Getting Tight In Here

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"

Ariadne's Thread

Ariadne addressed Theseus: Thou has slain the monster

Illustration by Virginia Frances Sterrett 
               

Grief is a labyrinth

and you, the unwilling subject,

dropped, unprepared, into the tangle

You are lost,

see only foreboding trails and blind curves

I will not tell you

not to be afraid;

this maze is full of danger,

but do not allow fear to stop you

from looking the monster in the eyes

Each time you look away,

it grows that much larger

and more formidable

I can lay a thread for you to follow

and give you a sword,

but you must slay your own monster

I will be waiting for you

to emerge from the other side

You may be tired

You may be battered,

but you will be alive.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, The Lark and the Toad

Seeds and All

Persephone by Patricia Ariel

I believed that you loved me;

you dragged me down to hell.

I thought I was your queen,

but your kingdom had gates I could not pass.

What I thought was passion

was me being devoured by your fire.

Now all that’s left of me

is bone and ash.

I have only myself to blame;

I swallowed your lies, seeds and all.

inspired by but too late to submit to: dVerse Poets Pub, Poetics, Modern Day Mythology 
submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Open Link Monday

Picasso Dreams

Faun, Horse, and Bird, 1936
Pablo Picasso

They came to me in a dream last night-

a horse, a bird, and a faun

There soon commenced an awful fight

that lasted until dawn

The horse accused the bird of theft

He cried, "You took my feathers!

And now I cannot lift my heft;

my hooves to ground are tethered!"

The bird replied, "Well, look at me!

I was the king of kings!

I used to have fierce claws, you see

not just two fragile wings!"

The faun then sighed, "I've had enough!

This fighting is absurd!

So you believe you've got it rough,

friend Horse and Mister Bird?

You used to be a Pegasus

and you a Gryphon strong?

I think you have it better now;

your attitude is wrong."

The horse then said derisively,

"What do you know of me?"

The bird next spoke decisively,

"With horse I must agree!"

 The faun said, "Think about your state

You each have but one soul

A horse or bird may be your fate,

but each of you is whole.

I do not know just who I am

I always feel amiss

When half a goat and half a man,

I'm that and then I'm this."

The horse and bird considered what

 the faun had just confessed

"We've been such fools complaining but

we now know we are blessed."

As I awoke from dreamy sleep,

I thought of what I'd heard

I learned a truth that I would keep

from a faun, a horse, and a bird.

submitted for The Mag, Mag160

Beebo, The Angry Clown

Photo by Huub Keulers

Beebo was an angry clown

Life had not been kind to Beebo-

His father was an alcoholic

His mother, neglectful

Neither of them showed the slightest parental pride when

Beebo was named “Class Clown.”

“Sophie Bloom’s daughter was valedictorian,” his mother carped

His father complained, “Don Reynold’s kid at least got ‘Hardest Worker.’

What do we get? Class Clown.”

“We’re not laughing,” they said.

 They just didn’t recognize Beebo’s talent

Or see his potential.

Nonetheless, Beebo enrolled in clown college

He passed face painting with flying colors

And juggled like gravity didn’t exist

But ballooning was a disaster!

Beebo could not manipulate those damn balloons-

He felt like a gorilla trying to sculpt the David.

 

At a 5 year-old‘s party

Beebo constructed 2-legged dogs that made the children weep

And presented the birthday girl with a balloon tiara

Topped with what resembled an erect phallus

He was promptly expelled from clown college.

Beebo again felt misunderstood and rejected

He was without diploma, without job, without money

He was an angry clown.

There is nothing scarier than an angry clown

Except possibly an angry clown with a gun

This was the position in which Beebo found himself

As he strode into the First Community Bank

With a gun, a red nose, and oversized shoes.

He pointed his gun at a young teller

Who immediately burst into raucous laughter

Beebo became even angrier

He aimed the gun just above the teller’s head

To fire a warning shot

It was more like a warning ‘pop’

As a small white flag flapped from the gun’s muzzle

With the word ‘BANG’ written upon it.

The entire bank was in an hilarious uproar now

Beebo didn’t know whether to feel honored or humiliated

He chose honored

Beebo gave a contrived clumsy bow

And left the bank as the people applauded

Beebo was still a misunderstood

Unemployed

Broke

Clown

But not quite as angry.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Bring In the Clowns