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Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Friday, May 4, 2012

Summer Song

source
 Through lazy afternoons the summers pass
I walk barefooted through the new mowed grass

Grasshoppers gambol underneath my feet
As August moves to its unhurried beat

A hummingbird sips nectar from a flower
Hypnotized, I lose track of the hour

The scent of honeysuckle fills the air
Its sweetness nips my tongue and lingers there

The silken wings of butterflies alight
On fragrant flowers colorful and bright

Once the pace slows down I hear the hush
The summer's torpid tempo can't be rushed

Again I learn that here is the sublime
In this moment, living all the time.


                         

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Sometimes You Drive

Never Easy by untaintedsoul
Sometimes you drive the road
Sometimes the road drives you
When you don't know the difference
Every place is the bad part of town

Sometimes the road drives you
Makes you do things you don't want to
Every place is the bad part of town
And all the strangers know your name

You do things you don't want to
When you give up the wheel
All the strangers know your name
But you don't remember why you came

When you give up the wheel
And you're just along for the ride
You don't remember why you came
Don't care if you make it home again

You're just along for the ride
You gotta keep up the drive
Don't care if you make it home again
You let the road decide

You gotta keep up the drive
Though you can't say if you'll arrive
You let the road decide
Between dead and alive

Though you can't say if you'll arrive
When you don't know the difference
Between dead and alive
Sometimes you drive the road.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Kerry's Wednesday Challenge, On the Road
and Poetic Bloomings, In Form Poet, Pantoum

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Licking the Wounds

You don't want to know me
You want photo ops
Sound bites for the bridge club
Bragging rights
for a well-bred pup
Throw the bitch a bone
Do some tricks for the nice ladies
then kick the mutt with your Ferragamos
for getting your rug dirty
Is it any wonder
I shrink away
when you reach your hand out?
or that I shed my collar
along with my milk teeth
so long ago?

submitted (too late)for dVerse Poets Pub, Meeting the Bar, Allegory so for Open Link Night, Week 42

Monday, April 30, 2012

Maybe a Proselyte

© Mama Zen Photography
Maybe I'm just moonstruck
but the color of your eyes could inspire a religion
and I could write a hymn
to every laugh line when you smile
Maybe it's just the moonlight
that has softened our faces
and given us a glow
but when I'm with you I feel like I'm still a kid
Maybe it makes dogs howl like wolves
Maybe it unites lovers
Maybe it incites lunacy
Maybe it's just a moon
but when I feel my heart race like this
I am a proselyte.