Poetic Ponderings

2011-10-15T13:08:00.001-05:00

Can you help a poet out and take a look at my poetry at these links please. It helps me earn a few pennies and it's so appreciated!

My Best
Missy

http://www.helium.com/items/2237572-poetry-fall-fashion-halloween

http://www.helium.com/items/2237239-poetrycontestmayseptemberromance

http://www.helium.com/items/2236101-poetry-contest-apples-harvest

http://www.helium.com/items/2235772-contest-poetry-game-day

You call "that" poetry?

2011-07-23T10:26:00.006-05:00

We've a debate going on @ Helium.com regarding poetry. There is some good information about peoples' ideas, concepts and so on regarding poetry and particularly Free Verse. Give a read , add your voice. It's how we grow as poets.

Melissa R. Bickel

I want to write a free verse poem which captures those who say it isn't.
I want to entice their stroll amid the punctuations or lack thereof.
Then each one, reading, can caress(with their eyes)those words reclining on the line.

Don't be fooled by this lazy river of lines they can come swiftly,
sweeping one away in a moment of pause.
would it be so bad, drowning in a stream of free flowing words?

This poem's pulse isn't in its structure,
meter, or rhyme; it's in the undertones
which pulled you in, that last ah ha moment
when you possibly began to see?

Poems in a contest

2011-07-10T17:45:00.002-05:00

http://www.helium.com/items/2193722-ffictionminionssaxophonecreativewriting

http://www.helium.com/items/2193722-ffictionminionssaxophonecreativewriting

http://www.helium.com/items/2193614-sonnet-music-verse

http://www.helium.com/items/2192678-piano-lessonspoetryivoriespiano

http://www.helium.com/items/2192081-poetryguitarmariachiscastanetsflamenco

http://www.helium.com/items/2191936-poetry-cello-ocean-cliffs-of-moher

Sailing

2011-06-27T10:18:00.000-05:00

~Sail swiftly Maria~
the afternoon watch is upon you and
Steel blue waters churn with want;
Your survival is an Asylum Harbour.
Do not linger in this temper, nothing
between the devil and the deep blue sea
will prevent you from running ashore.
Then amid the flotsam, your decky and boy seamen
will expire to the depths of this seas locker. Only then
will the following sea wash your bones to shore.

Full and by Maria,
Neptune's ire eases-
bring out the Grog and
turn your bow into
the hauling wind.
By and large your journey
will be smooth now, sail on Maria.

A Poem

2011-05-05T17:59:00.000-05:00

A poem

has texture-
It's versatile,
comfortably worn.
Technique allows its' freedom
to move with ebb and flow.
A poem is layered, but not desperately,
and is coordinated poetically
...but never so crazily,
that a readers eyes would roam.

The Useful Pssst

2011-04-17T21:29:00.002-05:00

I am clueless
as to who revolutionized the pssst;
Such a quirky little sound~
This renovation
of the English vocabulary
has grown tenfold!

Why couldn't I have invented it?

When I consider
how my knowledge
of what's proper wanes,
would I not serve
my native language well
by teaching my tongue
to dispense of the pssst
with the precision
of an English teacher?

The pssst is so useful too!

For example, while trying
to get the attention of a waitress
I'll simply say,

"Pssst, may I have some water?"

If a sea of eyes reflect disgust,
I'll smile sweetly
and when I get up to leave
I'll pssst for my bill...

...Just as the door gets ready
to shut on my backside, I'll
boldly open the door and
utter a parting pssst and wave.

What a fabulous addition
to MY vocabulary.

Windows

2011-04-13T19:38:00.002-05:00

The wind is calm tonight,
stars are out, the moon is high.
Shadows fall distorting images
-caught in reflected light.
Curtains stir and shades are drawn;
the final show for the day is done.

A screeching cry disturbs the silence,
a cat dashes out of the old armory.
I wonder what scared it...There it is,
a man caught in the pale glow of the night.
My heartbeat quickens, it's weird-
how a shadow can look so weathered.
I start to shut and lock the door,
then realize the moon is casting reflection-
of a scarecrow, across the armories stone surface.

The darkness which lies before me
is dreamlike...another world
revealed in the night. A dream
which has a seedier side-
A place where we struggle and
take flight from ignorance,
unaware that those very shadows
will eventually fall across our home.

Then, just as I had watched the windows
across the street, those shadows
will put on a show for someone else-
Someone staring out their door,
...watching my windows~

A Camping I went

2011-04-10T21:47:00.001-05:00

A camping I went

Camping I went, what a glorious sight.

Water glistened in the pale moon light-

Fog arose with the morning dew,

it was chilly and temp so cool

The bugs and ticks how they'd bite-

so repellent was sprayed...oh what delight!

In the tent I tried to sleep-

but devilish raccoon's played in the trees.

Fishing was fun and oh the glee, when

my son caught a trout, glory be.

Much to my horror and delight

I watched while he gutted and

chopped off its head that night

The bugs, now I mentioned,

but let me reflect- they buzzed and

hummed and caused me too fret.

Around my head and body they flew

landing in my mouth, I ate some it's true.

Camping, it's great, it was a blast-

but it's not like I remembered from the past.

My bones they ache, my legs are bruised-

I keep scratching, because the bathrooms were crude.

Next time I go and as I gather the gear,

I'll recall my friend who brings an RV every year-

There I'll rest in peace as the cool air blows,

and laugh at the bugs, who can't fly up my nose.

It's the weekend stupid

2011-04-04T19:05:00.002-05:00

5:30 A.M.
the alarm screams at me,
gone are the sleep induced dreams-
Coffee is on my mind as the covers are thrown back.

I feel very catish doing my feline stretch-
you know the one where you slowly move limbs
and arc your back, aligning all the vertebrates.
The sound of the..."SNAP" brings instant euphoria.

Slipping into my blue fuzzy slippers
I head to that place where my sanity is restored-

Whiffs of coffee tease my nose happily-
and as I turn the corner into the kitchen,
following that well worn path across the linoleum-
I realize it's Saturday and head back to bed.

2011-04-01T14:31:00.000-05:00

My newest Sonnet on Writing <----------Please click and give it a read then a critique here. Thank you

Growing Love

2011-03-15T07:58:00.002-05:00

Love is such a tender seed
when nurtured neath the warmth of soil
will bloom in Spring from sun and earth
full vased in heart its truth then known.

Each must take this seed as is
and with it plant and fertilize
and with the care you cultivate
will be the joy twice multiplied.

But,

don't compare loves' journey with
another's travel of success, instead
take heed how you plant and work
the ground you fed and plowed.

Working for pennies

2011-03-11T22:53:00.002-06:00

Working for pennies

He sat on the corner
hat outstretched
a sign in hand read,
"I'll work for pennies"

Two small children
flanked his sides,
each smiled with such
childish innocence.
She felt their poverty
in her heart.

Digging into her purse
she pulled out twenty dollars
and put it into the man's hat.

"What can I do for you lady", he asked.
Looking at the man she smiled,
"Feed your children sir", she said.

Walking away she heard the excitement
in the voices of those kids. It wasn't
that she was feeling obligated to feed
every homeless person on the street,
no, she'd seen herself reflected in the eyes
of that man.

It wasn't so long ago she too
was working for pennies.

Deep in the woods

2011-02-11T22:04:00.000-06:00

I was not prepared for that first time;
excitement pulsed throughout my body.
I remember the tingling sensation
and first gasp of wondrous surprise.

Against my heated skin, I felt the wind;
I sighed with the deliciousness of it all.
From the top of my head to the tips of my toes
a slow warmth radiated, rousing a smile.

How was I to know the impact
it had on me, I was young.
Yet, even then I knew the greatest
of life's pleasures bestowed on tender eyes.
There, on that day, deep within the mountains
I lost myself to the grandeur of the Gila's.
Still, today, those mountains call me.
One day perhaps I'll return and
lose myself to their beauty once more.

C.O.T.

2011-02-05T23:24:00.000-06:00

I've loved life fully
and in turn life has loved me back.
My love for people ignores pettiness
and so often, because of this, people love me back.
It's not expecting people to be givers
but to give of self without thought of reciprocation.
I know people like this and I'm blessed because of it.
So thank you, thank you to all those who are in my life.
You allow me the joy of loving life fully.

The Hour is Nigh

2011-01-12T13:26:00.000-06:00

What do you bring us O' Harbinger?
A panacea to dry our eyes~
Do you own a panoply of wisdom
from whence hope comes?

Your words are quintessential for beating hearts,
you who holds our ears by their lobes.
Please speak harbinger, loosen your lips.

See these woebegone faces before you?
They are waiting, bones aching~
there is a need, for even the sun needs a horizon
for which to rest upon when rising and setting.

Come now, deliver your proclamation.
Our impatience makes you weary, but
we tire so. How we long for that time
when you will imbue newness to our existence.

In the shadow of steel

2011-01-09T19:29:00.001-06:00

Admiration of a laced hand
moved him to kiss delicate webbing
on the streets of Paris
where she, embarrassed, giggles
and he blows up like a frog
with the spoils of her taste
lingering on his tongue.

We'll be fine.

2010-12-11T21:41:00.003-06:00

The storm was atrocious
oh how it poured,
flooded and wrecked
slammed against emotional doors.

So many times I waved for a line,
you'd let me drown each and every time.
How could I cope, another assault?
How would i make it, was it my fault?

One day it stopped...the emotional rains,
I'd wised up, you were never the same.
Your taunts were like laughter,
which rolled from my lips
You stood there silent, I wouldn't relent.

Now out the door suitcase in hand,
out on your own you worthless man.
I'm okay, so is your son, we are afloat
and you're a drowning son of a gun.

Divorce

2010-11-15T14:44:00.000-06:00

Do children ever recover
In spite of a peaceful end to marriage
Very resilient children are experts say
Only how do they really know because
Really a tender heart is broken
Crushed and shattered
Etched with faces of both parents together

A piece of the rock

2010-11-07T21:13:00.002-06:00

Across the page a river flows
wicked lines where blackness grows,

for

MaDnEsS rules this pending page
because the poets in a haze and
words pause while she sways,

~SoLo~

Should she move that pen to lip,
as the page madness slips...

~inside~

Lost within blackness's grip
purple and gray start to skip

a ~tango~

Ding donging of a clock,
blackness fades, her memory's
rocked...awake.

Through the daze of purple hues
familiar reins her in, she views

~the PaGe~

Tossed into the recycle bin,
chin in hand she flashes a grin,
because she knows it'll happen again...
the page will fade and blackness will win,

~ThE mAdNeSs~

Flash Fiction: Leaving Home

2010-10-23T19:40:00.001-05:00

Rock the Cradle
Nothing every prepared a parent for eighteen. Such an unassuming number until you're faced with it. So it was for Joshua and Mary. Before them stood their eighteen year old son, bags packed and enough moxie to make a go at living on his own.
It had only been two months since Joey's graduation. They'd had this time to prepare for his leaving, but hope had plagued their heart Joey would wait. That is, wait until he had a good job under his collar before he struck out on his own. Who really knows how a teenager's mind works.
Joey's parents were coming at this from a practical point of view, but Joey was thinking about freedom, parties, and girls. His job at the grocery store earned him enough to rent a garage apartment at his best friend's parents home. It was in a sad state of affairs, needing the fundamental things for habitation, but Joey reasoned he'd get "those" things as he could. He'd use an ice chest until he got a frig, he'd use a hot plate until he got a stove and the old microwave his friend had given him. His parents should be thankful the place had a decent bathroom and bedroom.
Yes, Joey reasoned life was great. Standing before his parents now, even the sadness behind their eyes couldn't quiet the excitement of this new stage in his life. He hugged his mom and tried to ignore the tears which silently fell. He shook his fathers hand and gave him a quick man hug, as his friend was watching from the truck. One more farewell and he was gone.
Joshua and Mary stood there for a few moments drenched in the eighteen years of memories of Joey. Joshua's way of handling Joey's leaving was to shrug his shoulders and head off for work. Mary, well Mary had a good cry and silently prayed for her son's well-being, after all she was the one who'd housed, bore, then rocked the cradle when their son was born. A small smile eventually found its way to her mouth. She knew eventually he'd be around for a home-cooked meal. Joey had spread his wings and flown, but there was nothing as good as mommas cooking, and a boy had to eat.

Envy's Kiss

2010-10-18T12:25:00.001-05:00

To say this color green suits me well, hurts.
Truth be known green is what I am.
It's a fatal blow of envy's kiss which leaves
me languishing in bitterness.

You drape your arm with an adornment...it's not me.
She with her onyx eyes and pomegranate lips
coils around you like a snake, posed to strike anyone
who gets to close to her prey.

Perhaps I should clothe myself in red as well,
don't get me wrong, these aren't the colors
of a festivitious celebration, they're
the sins which plague my heart.

My wish

2010-10-17T17:00:00.000-05:00

I'd like my severance to be paid
in reams of gold leaf on poet's scroll,
beneath a canopy of azure skies
where random leaves of fall colors
drape my casket in tribute to my life.

If you must cry, then cry in a sympathetic
way, not for me, for those left behind.
Their eyes, though muddy with grief, will soon settle
and the once stirred waters will clear.

This capsule of ivory I lay in
is a ridiculous waste of money.
Soon I'll be free of it and
walk again amongst you... When
Jah calls my name.

Remain strong, do not waver.
For I'll be expecting to see you
when this, "this death" releases me.

Poet's Lament

2010-09-30T16:41:00.001-05:00

Once my bed was nourished,
my banks held back torrents.

Plush vegetation, evidence of
rains intimate loving. How
proud was I! I plumed
my edges with wildflowers.

Now...now cracks reveal my emptiness.
My once productive soil contains no
life-staining substance. My sides
crumble from lack of liquid.

How i long to feel the fluids
running through my crevices.
Perhaps tomorrow will fulfill my wish.

Till then, this mere token is evidence
of my struggle to flow, to fill once again.

I'll See you Tuesday

2010-09-27T13:00:00.000-05:00

It was always this way. A smiled played across her plum lips as her thoughts gave way to a realization. Today was the day. Butterflies fluttered within depths of her stomach.

This time it was for real, this time it was a definite. She pushed opened the doors and spoke a hello to the man behind the counter. I'm so glad you hired me she said.

"It started out as a feeling which then grew into a hope" Six long years not working was no more.

Moonlit Tropics

2010-09-20T06:11:00.002-05:00

Moonlit tropics - Co-written with William Burkholder

Starry nights with loved ones shared
visions of boats on harbors sail
moonbeams streaked with tattered lace,
blows in wind's delicate soft grace.
Wrapped up in a blanket we hold,
all of nighttimes magic unfolds

Resting terns in harbor light
greeting grace that comes with night
Loons call rising on inland swale
Bidding come the weary sail
Flapping quietly in dusky breeze
The sunset dying behind the trees

White sand fantasies easily steam
in moonlight walks by silver streams
Hand in hand we make our way
while nighttimes music makes us sway.

And you and I in the recompense
Walk the moonlit way
to commune with surf and solitude
finding serenities quay.

Smoking Pen

2010-09-19T20:05:00.000-05:00

I wield a mostly silent pen
since silence stokes a flame,
creating all which comes to be
upon a written page.

It doesn't really matter
what brings this flame to life,
it's what it accomplishes
when my smoking pen takes flight.

My pen flares creatively
it's par for poetic art,
especially when unleashed
as words and verse move hearts.

2010-09-17T19:15:00.000-05:00

I once collected idioms around my mouth;
Though I'd affixed them to parchment,
my ambition was quite noble.

Writing was not for wealth-
not for reverence of any kind.
It was for the gaiety of released words,
which later flocked together in verse.

I knew I'd never gather riches
of a monetary kind, in lieu
I'd collect winsome treasures
when readers traipsed where my nib once reclined.

C.O.T. Love at first sight

2010-08-15T18:35:00.000-05:00

March 15th, 1991 almost one year to the date of my marriage on a Friday @ 12:58A.M. Joshua Wayne Bickel arrived weighing 5Lb 14 Oz. Another boy was added to the Bickel Clan. Aunts, Uncles, grandma's and friends had gathered around at the birthing center. It was a joyous time, a miracle of life. When he was placed on my chest his elfin face and yoda ears gripped my heart and squeezed it with all the love a parent can have. Yes, "It was love at first sight".

Joshua I'm sorry I couldn't give you brothers and sisters. Life is that way sometimes for whatever reasons, but you my son have indeed been a blessing. When you become a parent you'll know exactly what I mean.

Yellowed love letters

2010-08-14T21:52:00.000-05:00

Love letters, yellowed
lay on a bedside table.
Adoration six decades old;
two decennium plus six decennium her age.

Antiqued with time,
unending amour;
her memories fade each day.

"Save me," she whispers to the ladies
in white as they pass her door. They
pat her hand and ask, "What shall we save you from Mary"?
She points to the man in her room, "from him," she says.

Sympathetic smiles embrace his heart. Tears
expunge his pain.

His wife is lost to this mind disease.
Regardless, there are moments when he recognizes
flashes of memory in her eyes, the scales drop.
Softly she calls his name, then retreats into the void.

Weathered hands reach for the letters;
She's read them a thousand times.
The woman has her name and the man,
the man whoever he is, is called Tom.
Someone surly is missing these words of requited love.

Flash Fiction

2010-08-13T22:31:00.001-05:00

These flash fiction stories consist of 200-400 words. They should tell their story in that amount of words. Short and sweet.

Rock the cradle

The Key

"When I think how life used to be" (C.O.T.)

2010-08-08T23:42:00.000-05:00

...I've transitioned,
transitioned into the third trimester of my life.
I feel the pangs of age and the joy of wisdom,
wisdom which now enhances this stage, my life.

I would not travel through time to change one thing,
each moment, each trial, each joy and each tear
has shaped this moment I'm in now. I might not
have enjoyed the pleasure of knowing you otherwise.

What was or used to be no longer exist;
merely a residue of memory contains those
episodes of my exsistence. How I've been changed
and live now matters.

"When I think of how life used to be" I am thankful,
thankful for this opportunity to write these simple words.
To feel this virtual pen knowing I've left a bit of myself here.
Here in these words you now read.

Inheritance Track

2010-08-05T21:02:00.001-05:00

My Dear Friend Keith challenged me and a few others to put down our Inheritance Track, one that I'd ascribe to me and then one I'd pass on so here goes.

This track may seem foolish or silly, but with it comes the fondest memories of my brother, sister, father, mother and I all gathered together. We were in that moment bonded as close as a family can be bonded and just lost to the wonder of unity within a family.

Tom T. Hall was a singer who appealed to the masses on so many levels. Especially to the people of country living. His songs revolved around what you'd think about when you thought of country folk and not the hick version either, just laid back, working hard for family and land, the never knowing a stranger type of people.

This song was on one us kids would full lunged sing and giggle with. I mean how is it possible for a snake to sneak up and drink your rootbeer?

I give you Sneaky Snake by Tom T. Hall.

What song would I pass on to my son? It's hard to know. Joshua has been my inspiration and at times the bane of my existence. I'm his mother, my love is unconditional, but it can be tried. We've both learned though things are easily overcome with love and patience.

I suppose I'd pass on another country song. Funny how all things can be said and expressed in the lines of a country song. I've an eclectic taste in music though, but I always go back to what I was raised on as a child.

I hope that no matter what my son faces in life or what roads he travels he'll be able to find happiness and just dance.

I'll pass on Lee Ann Womack's song "I Hope You Dance"

Going Mad

2010-07-15T01:47:00.000-05:00

There's much to do within a day
oft times not a sec to play;
hours dictate hands on clock,
which tick tock tick the strangest mock.

How I wish to move those arms
sending them swirling with shocked alarm,
Then flash a smile with sweetly crazed charm;
would that cause such mad hatterly harm?

Through the door, whiffs of the strangest brew,
you and I drink from a shoe.
Around the floor arranged as hearts,
ticks the hour of maddingly clicked clocks.

If mad clocks click
with charm so crazed,
mocking tick tocking
with brew so strange;
the hours nigh
and soon will rise,
hatterly swinging clocks,
tick tocking, tick tock.

C.O.T

2010-06-27T22:39:00.000-05:00

"If you really want to hear about it" and you're brave enough to stand the truth,
and you're willing to own up to your part, then baby here's the proof.

Put your hand in a bucket of water, swirl it around just so. Now pull it out quickly,
No impression whata you know!!! Don't stand there, mouth open, you asked me what
I knew, now get along you lazy goober or you'll get my size nine boot.

Just having fun!!!! Although I must admit, the images of my ex wearing my shoes stuck in his arse was quite hilarious :)

Passing Through

2010-06-23T09:26:00.000-05:00

It's never good to lose oneself
inside a bottle which robs the mind,
in turn destroys the soul within
and leaves you feeling less inclined.

You have to dig deep inside
to find the spark you once knew,
and then begin to stoke the flame
to fire all which is uniquely you.

We each must be accountable
for all that paves the paths we walk,
then tend or weed the vines that sprout
across our winding lane of growth.

All are caterpillars who inch their way,
until the need to morph anew.
Then in cocoon we change with life,
emerging as butterflies winged, renewed.

SIX THINGS ABOUT ME WHICH TWO ARE TRUE?

2010-06-14T00:09:00.000-05:00

1. When I was younger I always wanted to bum around the states viewing the different wonders of the US. So a few friends and I took a road trip which ended all of us in jail for a few days as we touched one of the containers in the Smithsonian and set off the alarm. They thought we were trying to rob them. Fortunately things were cleared up and we were once again on our way.

2. I've a taste for all things seafood. I love it just about anyway. I'll never forget the first time I tried oysters. Talk about sliding down the throat. Slurp they are sooooooooo good.

3. I've been published on-line and in print for creative writing and poetry. While there wasn't much of a monetary gain to either, it was a huge success in my estimation. I've a passion for all things creative and poetry. I suppose you could say I live to write or write to live.

4. I've a tattoo on my butt of Richard Nixon

5. I've flown to New Zealand to visit Karen. We had a grand time sitting on the beach watching the Mighty Blacks train for an upcoming game. It was a little disconcerting when Karen let out a whistle and they all came over to visit with us. Boy what a day that way. I'll never forget it.

6. I've been to England. It was one of the greatest things I've ever done. I've walked the road the Queen Mother lived on. I stood and watched the changing of the guards. What a grand event that is. I visited the famous was museum, and stepped on the street Sherlock Holmes lived on. I've visited the British Museum and stared in awe at the huge shields the different armies carried. I went to the museum of Natural History and spilled hot scalding soup on me and there was NO ICE to cool the burn down, can you imagine a place serving no ice in a drink???? I 've stood in parks and found parks tucked away in cozy corners while strolling the streets on London. It was a wonderful Adventure I hope to do again, but stay longer than a week.

Empty

2010-06-12T15:06:00.000-05:00

Silence in empty rooms,
a home void of children,
Memories put away between
parched antiqued pages;
released to thought when
unguarded moments haunt the heart,
especially "when you are
old and grey and full of sleep."

In The Days Last Light

2010-06-05T22:10:00.001-05:00

"In the days last light"
Before the rise of the moon,
In quiet thought, I stand spent.
The day was long, but well used;
A heart well stoked, ebbs the blues.

Full moons' rising, washes away sun's light;
Soon sounds, music of the night.
There on my porch, me and night,
basking in what was, "the days last light".

Cleaning and Gleaning

2010-05-15T11:41:00.001-05:00

I'm cleaning out cobwebs,
Gleaning insight too;
What's important in life,
comes with different views.

I've hid behind pretenses.
I'm more than just a name.
So I'm cleaning out cobwebs,
till I shine through all this rain.

My life's had its moments-
when shades have been drawn,
blocking out reasoning
when uncertainty came to call.

It doesn't matter,
if I've had a set back or two;
I'm cleaning out cobwebs
gleaning insight too.

I've faced mountains,
which now seem like hills;
Scaling all those ridges,
made me face the thrills.

So, I've stoked a fire
to illuminate my way-
gleaning insight daily,
keeps my pathway lit and safe

Dusty Roads

2010-05-06T10:49:00.002-05:00

Mom and dad said,
"A quarter wont get you far".

Hiding a laugh behind pretended worry
mom asked, "You sure you want to runaway Missy"?

"Yes", i replied quite miffed-

Marching out the door, my back stiff and
two bouncy pigtail moving back and forth,
i pulled my raggedy suitcase behind me.

Counting twenty steps to the dirt road
took forever...or so it seemed.
Looking down the road, it went on forever;
"How far to the blacktop", i wondered?

Sockless feet, in worn sneakers
paid the price for my impetuous decision;
blisters and rocks left their imprints on tender skin.
i was young and stubborn, so i didn't turn back.

Soon an old truck pulled beside me,
dust filled my nose as it stopped.

The lady asked me,
"Missy where are you going"?

"i don't know, somewhere my lips trembled".

Crying i could only hiccup a reply.
My five year old heart was broken,
mom had let me go.

i was tired, my arm hurt;
the suitcase was so heavy.
Yucky dust was in my hair;
i wanted to go home.

In my mind hours had passed,
but it was only minutes.
The lady helped me into her truck.
i wasn't scared, she was our neighbor.

i felt butterflies in my stomach
as she turned the truck around.
She was taking me home...

...For whatever reason I ran away that day,
it's forgotten. A memory settled in dust of youth.

Mom and dad were right, a quarter couldn't get you far,
but that day it was enough to bring me back up that dusty road...to home.

Inspired by E. E. Cummings "Listen"

2010-04-15T18:35:00.000-05:00

Son,
don't doubt.
It was in the blue of midnight
you were conceived,
...that is (in love) of the pale blue moon.
Two people,
your father and I, in view of God
gave life to a garden ~
planted in the truth of what then was.
There in the soil (of me) you grew.
You grew in turquoise waters,
and I thought of you often. Would
you know later in life, when trials
fell upon you and love grew less
(between your father and I) you, our bloom,
was still loved.
Please, don't let the roads
of cobalt cloud your eyes.
Son,
vows may crumble(in marriage),
yet...parental love is not always forsaken.
You're still a precious Sapphire
and your father and I, (together
in love), created you in the truest of blue.

Poem inspired by Langston Hughes "Cultural Exchange"

2010-04-15T18:31:00.000-05:00

I grew up not knowing color,
that's the way it is for kids
...you know they're colored blind, until shown-

When i did learn, it wasn't because i was taught-
i saw how others reacted to, you know...shhh (BLACK).

I would think how sad is that, I love black!
So many different hues of black...i was jealous,

white you see is only white. I could add hints of color but,
it was never my own, this coating of mine just freckles.

Shame, i've known shame,
it's lingered around my neck at times,
the bright red color of shame. I see fellow humans
mistreat their brother, sister, mother, and father.
Who dictates majority I wonder? Don't we all bleed the same?

Here is my shame...i can't change the whole,
even though i've tried raising my son to see
the wonders of color. Without color we'd live in a dull world,
it'd be like only eating porridge and nothing else...boring.

We've progressed so far, yet the skin we wear
still creates barriers? I'm doing my part though,
i'm seeing with eyes wide open, they're not jaded,
nor do they shy away from different hues.

As I've said before,"If the color of my skin
determines the person I am, then
I'm dead to you, for I am who I am".

Your Judas

2010-03-21T14:13:00.002-05:00

I walked your wails like a parapet
so close to the edge I could feel
your jagged cries as they burst
my ear drums.

No salve will ease the teeth
embedded deep within your spine.
A volatile cocktail attached to
your bone yard is evidence of an attempt.

It's hard to hear of the abuse you endure,
as once again your beaten and battered
when the floor stopped your downward spiral.
How much more, dear sister, will you endure?

The Hippocratic Oath to render service is a lie!
Such gods as these play with their self promoted grandeur.
"How can you know your body, you only wear it", he says.
There you stand to weak to even support your skeletal frame.

Your persecution is a reflection of his negligence.
A proud cock crowed before the sun even rose
and in his anger he mutilated you, my sister.
His signature has been left six times,on your back.

All I can do is sit here and write about it;
my words fall from the purest of emotions,
borderline hate, wanting retribution for you.
I want to shrivel up like a raisin and hide
among other raisins of like appearance.

Sister oh sister, if only I could bare your torture stake.
Your Judas is a butcher, he should dangle from the scalpel
which started it all. If only he'd used kid gloves and fretted
over you as an artist does his masterpiece, then perhaps
you'd know life and remember what living is.

Rebecca, my sister, know that my silence is grief,
if I uttered one word my anguish would crush
your delicate soul. My Judas is watching you
trying to live, while your assassin plays golf
knowing your days could be shortened.

Eternal Sleep (Ghazanelle)

2010-03-20T00:20:00.000-05:00

Eternal sleep is her release.
A honeybee set free to fly;
wings no longer pained, sweet peace.

Illnesses trumpet soon to cease,
receding notes of trial's sigh.
Eternal sleep is her release.

Strength she often tried to fleece,
demanding more when nothings nigh;
wings no longer pained, sweet peace.

Body wants to grab a piece
of slumber through these stormy skies.
Eternal sleep is her release.

The Book of Life has a precious crease,
evidence she gave life a try.
Wings no longer pained, sweet peace.

Now she lay on ending lease,
a soul no longer able or spry.
Eternal sleep is her release;
wings no longer pained, sweet peace.

Effigy

2010-01-25T22:35:00.000-06:00

Affix my face to an effigy,
no not a sculpture on some stone.
but chiseled inmost words unrhymed
so others see how I'm predisposed.

I want my image not sheathed
in marbled rock of counter use,
but buried deep within the verse
where edicts cast a better view.

Bella Notte

2010-01-14T16:51:00.002-06:00

Bella Notte

Beautiful night, calming serenity.
Your skies aglow with champagne diamonds.
Raven shadows pique feline curiosity.
I want to dwell in your darkened corners
finding solace within the hem of onyx.
How often you command lovers to tryst,
luring them with promises of obsidian secrecy.

Here they call you Bella Notte;
I suppose it's because you incite amore.
An Italian profumo, lingering on sable skin,
which reveals nocturnal ballads of clandestine affairs.

Oh Bella, Bella Notte.

Dawn is peaking, your ebony color fades
revealing lighter hues of night's secrets.
As charcoal gives way to tangerine,
I stir, your music whispering in my ears.

2010-01-07T18:14:00.000-06:00

Icy dawning morning
Cozy in front of a fireplace
Inside smells of marshmallows and hot chocolate
Crackling wood flares when gently stoked
Landscapes wear white and eyelet
Exposed to night's winter storm
Safe inside we see icicles dangling from trees

2009-12-23T13:38:00.004-06:00

With excited anticipation
my day begun some hours ago.
Woke up to the smell of bacon,
a waffle, and coffee.

The smell of coffee was...nectar,
seductively alluring and rich in aroma.
Like a bee starved for a bit of honey,
I lovingly sipped my first cup.

Slowly my synapses began to connect,
shooting pleasure of Colombian Delight
across parched tonsils. A desert land
due to hours of sleep.

Little electrodes of awakened awareness
rudely attacked the rest of my body.
Eyes still filled with fairy dust
grew brighter with the dawning.

Ahh, yes, life oozed through every cell.
Realization arose. Tink, tink, tink,
the sound of raindrops finally registered.
A smile spreading across a wrinkled terrain.

It's to be today, the snow that is. Today
a blanket of white moves in, to leave behind
a bad case of dandruff. First earth's shower.
There's nothing like drinking coffee on a rainy cold day.

I've sat down to pen a few words,
trying to capture this days beginning.
One day, perhaps, my words will flow with grace.
For now it's the raw, savage, writing I desire.

I hope you don't mind I wrote it here.
Somehow it seemed appropriate that I share this with you all.
This very real and expressive day I'm having.
It's been some time since I've written from a spark-

I thought the well had dried. Must have been in remission.
For now I leave this thought here, amongst rhymes.
Don't know if I'll extract it either. It seems at home here,
here amongst others thoughts, nestled amid poetic ventures.

2009-12-14T18:36:00.002-06:00

I've tried the sonnet a time or two
and found it difficult to write
I try to stick with what I know
but love to read a sonnets flight.

I'm more the free verse type of gal
who writes without the thought of line
and in so doing I have found
the purest joy, unhindered rhyme.

But I admire the writer who
can put the sonnet in straight line
keeping time with ta boom ta boom
while I enjoy the la ti da.

So write on those who sonnet pen
keep jotting lines which make me grin.

2009-12-11T13:07:00.001-06:00

Ode to wrinkles

Lines mark this weathered face.
Each a journey interfaced with life.
Oh how I cherish most, these wrinkles;
for they map a pretty balanced existence.

I know some of you mock me~
reminding me why you came to be,
but wrinkles that's okay; I'm still alive.
I'm a bit crinkled with the evidence of your homesteading.

Wrinkles you though, to me, are medals-
medals earned while I waged war
with illness, a teenager, and the process of getting older.
So I accept you and embrace you as such.

Remember dear wrinkles, you too shall come to pass-
for when I no longer journey this earth, when I
recline within the bowels of cold compacted clay,
you too will rest with me, no longer mocking.

2009-11-28T10:28:00.002-06:00

6:02 A.M.
Winter's song
keeps beat with the
ocean's current and moon's phase.

I think about how you can't control
the way the wind blows,
it would be like defying gravity.

This day has been pitched into the wild,
a symbolic note of a chord's progression perhaps.
I'll sing you to me with the breeze;
if the answer is no, can I change your mind?

Just give me time, for
my voice shakes.
I should have kissed you,
instead I took away love and added loneliness.

For now I'm blue, like jazz;
Never again shall I fly, or so it seems.
It's 6:03 A.M.
Winter's song plays on.

Progress

2009-11-26T16:07:00.003-06:00

They call it progress,
metal casings housing cinder blocks.
Deforestation giving way to concrete buildings;
Our utopia?
Smog laden lungs
cough out toxic air,
despite the fact mask are worn
to ward off the ominous invasion
of pollutant spores.
My carbon footprint is housed
in a 10 x 10 square room...
relatively safe at the moment.
I wonder if my existence
will end up in some orbital
catastrophe?
In the meantime officials
try to placate outcries,
but all we're left with is the scene
of plastic trees blocking
progress.

We're Only A Dream

2009-11-02T18:00:00.002-06:00

Far into the distance
amid cumulus clouds
where colors mold
Aurora Borealis skies,
you and I stroll.

Two people, joined hands,
and joined hearts. Each
knowing the other, only here,
where...we're only a dream.

I loved you in silence

2009-10-09T11:03:00.000-05:00

Sometimes there are no words
to express the depths of love,
just vestiges of a steady heartbeat.

In these silent times
emotion is so profound,
a single word destroys
love's true essence.

Search my soul;
feel what my eyes,
hands and actions say.

Know that I have
loved you in silence.

Lunar Eclipse

2009-09-23T12:21:00.003-05:00

Languishing in the moment
of lunar eclipse,
heart, mind and soul
were lost to the velocity
of earth and moon in
nocturnal dance.

Gila Mountains

2009-09-21T21:43:00.000-05:00

Please take a look at my newest piece here.

http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/2197569/gila_mountains.html?cat=16

Your thoughts and comments are appreciated.

It's not worth it

2009-09-18T23:26:00.000-05:00

I could care less
about fame and riches.

Some wrap it around their shoulders,
others wear it on their fingers.
Name in lights, yes there are those.
A home in Beverly Hills, three million dollars,
fame is costly.

I think of those hypnotized by the glitter...
funny how the sparkle washes away in the
morning light when death's stench has set in;
some poor sap with to much money overdosed
of twenty thousands dollars worth of cocaine.

Money sure can buy you anything.

That actress, she looked different when she started out
all wholesome and well...REAL
i think i saw something familiar in her face, she
turned sideways and the feeling went away, vanished
in the plastic which coats her bones. When she's laid to rest
parts of her will take years to decay...if they ever do. Her
fame didn't buy her immortality, however it did by her a nice
set of boobs.

I've decided money and fame CAN get you somewhere,
it's the somewhere that's scary. i'd rather not buy into it;
i'm rather content in my little corner of the world,
struggling in the real world, pinching pennies
and shopping at Wal-mart.

I did have five minutes of fame once. A nod, oh not for an Oscar,
no this nod presented itself with a slap on a back and a certificate
stating "A Job Well Done"... i hated the attention it drew.. i was
red faced for over an hour... Yeah fame isn't for me.

I guess i'll go to my grave rich in life and my fame will consist
of the moment i missed my seat at Furr's Cafeteria and ended
up on the floor.....my chair went one way, i went the other.
Now that was a scene which should have made millions.

Oh well, at least i'll decay the way a human is supposed to. My body
returning to dust. Nothing polluting the ground which the next
generation will have to clean up.

I could care less
about fame and riches.

Catching rain on my tongue

2009-09-16T23:18:00.000-05:00

The smell of wet leaves
reminds me of Autumn,
when I was five.

A cool breeze
had wrapped the day
with a gentle rain.

There was something...special
about "Those" changing leaves.

Maybe it was because
I'd been playing in a pile of them
when I caught mom and dad kissing in the rain.

~or~

perhaps it's the memory of me,
five years old,
trying to catch raindrops on my tongue.

2009-09-10T19:08:00.000-05:00

Veined imprints of
roadway aqueducts
web your body.

While grey tones
set a palette
of melancholy hues.

Even charcoal skies
can't hide the beauty
of your petals through the mist.

The Scene

2009-09-07T16:19:00.002-05:00

Blue smoke curls around nicotine fingers;
her parted mouth allowing
a slow escape of tar and whiskey.

Out of the dark, a feigned cough.

Target located,
Chartreuse lips smile.

Another acrid cloud of blue smoke released.
A second cough, he laughs.

Fidgeting with her hair,
drawing red tipped nails through the curls...
she flirts.

So many times,
upon this stage,
the scene unfolds.

Her Hepburn
to his Bogart.

Revenge

2009-08-29T18:29:00.001-05:00

It seemed appropriate;
a bottle of red and murder.
Alone in the shadows
she contemplates her choices.

They were the color of night
and as soft as silk.
A cool G laid on the counter;
she slipped the underwear into her bag.

Airports are never a good place to sleep;
phantoms lurk in shadows.
A woman drunk on red and plotting murder smiles,
she's feeling good in her thousand dollar purchase.

Nothing Is Written In Stone (Prompt from Baron)

2009-08-21T14:57:00.004-05:00

We say, "nothing is written in stone"...

Except death.

Death is written in stone;
beloved wife-father-son-daughter.

The sleep of the dead,
under cold marbled stone - death
There it is written in stone

...but...

He who holds the Book Of Life
has the "Key" to release death,
to erase the chiseled words written in stone.

Undoing the eternal sleep,
so it's true...

"Nothing is Written in Stone"

Fall

2009-08-19T10:03:00.003-05:00

Three Word Wednesday: The words for this weeks prompt are: Riot, Decay, Graceful

It rides upon the wind,
rioting for prominence.
Sometimes the change is subtle,
other times it's swift.

Whiffs of decay announce
multitudinous death.
Stark skeletal remains
evidence of carnage.

Yet such things happen
when the seasons change.
Yielding renewal and
graceful growth.

The days have passed

2009-08-04T15:25:00.005-05:00

Forty-three years I have seen.
Many roads I have traveled;
Seeding goodness and weeding badness.
Forging ahead, and then lagging behind.

How quickly they gather: seconds, minutes, hours, days.

I wonder where I spent it;
Infancy, childhood, or adulthood?
It’s lost to the yester-years,
Caught between day and night.

Oh days, how dare you pass when I wasn’t looking.

Gray hair creeps in and wrinkles leave their mark.
Skin dances upon my supple body,
draping my arms like curtains.
Were I vain I’d cover the mirrors, I’m a realist.

Soon I’ll be in the eve of my years,
On a front porch,with weathered rocker, covering many miles.
As memory fades and twilight rises,
I'll sleep the long sleep.

Yes, the days will have passed.

Ruins

2009-08-03T09:35:00.001-05:00

Photo By:~takeru-san

An ancient dwelling
rest among the oleander.
Foundation subverted,
shambles remain.

For years foes gathered,
seeking to overthrow this wicked place.
Their folly met with failure.

Here the sun rarely shows;
peace never reigns.
Evil plays amongst these poisonous flowers,
a false facade of beauty.

On the hill the ruins totem is intact,
a deadly lure to the greedy.
What treasures remain,
bring only death.

It's better to face the rifle,
than what lives here.

Transition

2009-07-31T11:12:00.001-05:00

I stood at the gate enchanted
by scenes that lay before me.
Feeble attempts at taking
it in, unsuccessful.

I find traces of myself here,
lost among falling leaves.
They dance towards some destination,
what I don't know.

The intense beauty,
is so breathtaking.
A hustle and bustle of
pre-winter activities takes place.

Is my assertion of joy so strong,
it could be compared to a religious communion,
on a Sunday morning?

Riding the crest of Fall's beauty,
I let out inaudible sighs.
If they were heard, it would make
nature blush at the intensity of it.

Am I being too pretentious?
No amount of silence, can
truly hush my excitement
for this season.

Proud and brawny trees,
lay bare their naked structure
to Winter's coming coldness.
How they will thirst for Spring.

Lost here, amid nature and self,
my mind's eye reflects on
warming fires and hot chocolate.
Families gathered around the hearth.

So sweetly divine I don't feel
the first snowflakes landing upon
my eyelashes, until the gate groans
with the heaviness of it.

2009-07-25T16:26:00.000-05:00

Hidden

What lies within her eyes is hidden;
hidden by eyelids sheltered behind a shade,
a shade which protects her from the sun.

The sun warms her through the shade,
a shade which hides her from view.
Like the eyelids shade what's hidden within her eyes.

Carry on Tuesday

2009-07-19T14:41:00.000-05:00

"Whether I shall turn out to be, the hero of my own life....." depends upon how far I'm willing to go, in allowing others to dictate my journey. Unless I am willing to step forward and conquer my own fears, I'll never be my own hero.

She Wore Beads

2009-07-17T12:15:00.000-05:00

*NOTE* This was a attempt to take words normally considered offensive and turn them into something other than what they represent I.E. Whore and Harlot etc.

She Wore Beads

There once was a wicked hussy.
The town's eclectic floozy.
She'd dangle her beads, twirling them just so.
They were the color of a harlot, you know, "Red".

She often whored herself on cheap liquor and smokes while
reclining on the steps of the scarlet district.
What a strumpet in her high heels and fishnet hose!
Flashing her flamboyant posterior, she'd cause quite a show.

Men's heads would turn, those gigolos.
They'd whistle and say,
"Golly Look How She Strolls."

I Bid You Goodnight (C.O.T.)

2009-07-12T12:16:00.002-05:00

Sweet lullaby, head nods;
Sleep is on the way.

A mother's touch, in bed your tucked.
Sandman comes to play.
One soft kiss, from small wee lips.
The time for sleep is nigh.

"Dream on, for dreams are sweet:"
when moonbeams through windows shine.

photo by: Jessie Wilcox-Smith

Loose Tongues

2009-07-07T19:23:00.000-05:00

Gregarious assumptions
often lead to suspicions and
serious social situations, where
suspending lifelong friendships
inadvertently happen.
Perhaps gossip is malicious.

Follow link to my submission to C.O.T.

2009-07-05T16:59:00.001-05:00

Carry On Tuesday prompt here

Censored

2009-06-25T18:11:00.000-05:00

Ink blots splatter the writers tablet;
the pens' been posed to long.
Seems when censored
what was freely and uninhibited written,
drys up like a parched desert when no rain falls

Bridled pens become robotic,
when restraints fall upon the nib.
Mechanical motions,
where embers smolder.
Let loose the fetters!

It's frightening to think
someone else dictates your rhythm.
Unleash that which binds
before this too becomes extinct.
Set the poet free.

Word Bank Offering (humor)

2009-06-23T18:28:00.000-05:00

A flamboyant porky fellow
much to his dismay, pulled the cork
of the flax seed oil, instead of his "Oil of Olay"

His daily regimen of skin care
while done in the company of self,
was sorely interrupted, as the flax seed
came off the shelf.

Now in the shadows of darkness,
the portly fellow sits.
Candidly assessing his reflection,
His skin care now on the fritzs.

Big Heads, Little Bodies

2009-06-02T10:11:00.001-05:00

Big Heads, Little Bodies

I am merely human,
breathing everyday.
Blessings I've received,
I try to share the same.
Sometimes talents bring me
recognition 'till I glow.
So I humbly pray,
"May this head of mine not grow."
When my talents become dimmer
and my use goes away.
Those who stood beside me,
may no longer feel the same.
So I say cherish what you have,
share the gifts you've been bestowed.
Don't grow big heads on little bodies,
or a tumblin' you will go.

Acknowledgment: Scott Scherr, thanks so much for helping to pull this piece together. It has so much meaning within the words and you've brought what I was trying to say together in a far better way.

Four W's and a H (Carry On Tuesday) Prompt 3

2009-06-01T22:03:00.000-05:00

"There are sleeping dreams",
dreams you have no control over.
They are the master, you are the slave.
Slave to where the dream wanders.

"And waking dreams"...
These dreams are caught between
the setting moon and rising sun.
Awareness grows as eyelashes flutter.

Be careful when waking!
"What seems is not always as it seems".

How can you deny the evidence?
Why then do you fear the day and pray for the night?
Where do your dreams linger...
What does it matter -
Who is it that asks?

Some things have no answers,
others should remain silent.
Pandora's box holds only destruction!
Even in dreams...

"There are sleeping dreams and waking dreams"
"What seems is not always as it seems"

Ask Alice, she knows.

Poetic Places

2009-05-25T13:05:00.000-05:00

This coffee house is full of smells,
which tease a poet's nose.
Metaphors and similes,
expressed within their prose.

Gathered here with kindred hearts,
pens ready to compose.
Stanzas, verses play their part,
all this a poet knows.

Flavors of poetic drink,
are meant to be sipped slow.
So if inclined, spend some time,
there's no need for you to go.

Find the poet within yourself
and join in all the fun.
Let loose your pen, just begin,
sharing your poetry with everyone.

2009-05-23T18:24:00.000-05:00

~Love of writing~

If only I lived a second;
I would have lived completely.

Like a man's hand caresses a woman's hair,
my fingers would caress the pen.

I would die knowing, at least, I had
touched the ink.

© 2008 Melissa

Patience

2009-05-20T16:42:00.000-05:00

For this moment
lungs expand,
airs drawn in.
Shaking clear the cobwebs,
I'm reminded why I need to breathe.

Night's Calling - Carry On Tuesdays Prompt

2009-05-16T20:08:00.000-05:00

"A cloudless night like this
can set the spirit soaring"
when above my head
freckles of light wink.

Far away places call
with each twinkle of sparkling charm.
I wonder who is gazing like me,
at each trail left behind by falling stars.

Could I join the night,
I too would softly
caress each precious light
announcing it's unique individuality.

Yes, " A cloudless night like this
can set the spirit soaring", yearning
for tomorrows night.

2009-05-10T21:21:00.000-05:00

Enshrouded in dreams
how delicate the soul.

Devoid of defenses, it's
not easy to defy those
memories which lurk unprotected.

Gnarled fingers of fear expose
silent screams, dissolving
them into nightmarish screams.

Here one is devoid of reason.

Eyes flutter searching for
the door which will release you
from the darkness.

Once awake,
you never forget
what waits in dreams.

Time passes by

2009-04-25T11:23:00.000-05:00

I often wonder when time became
more hare, than turtle?
When meandering was the choice of speed
and not the rush of life.
The truthfulness to this question,
is hard for me to answer.
I suppose we all wear
different disguises.
Is mine that obvious,
the scarlet letter amid time wasters?
I hold myself aloft,
fearing the mirrors truth.
Fettered to the insecurities
which roam freely within,
I'm limp, weak and
still wondering about the days which have passed.

2009-03-30T11:00:00.000-05:00

I thought you were valiant.

Boldly posed to ward off intruders.

You were so small in comparison

to the vastness of what you held at bay.

A splash of color against the stark gray.

I suppose it isn't the size that matters,

just the fortitude to face the challenges

you may or may not be able to overcome.

Watching I wondered who placed you there,

you know there, ever so precariously on the edge.

I loved that it was you who defended my room

from the scary monsters who'd enter my window.

Newest Sonnet

2009-03-05T09:03:00.000-06:00

My newest Sonnet is called Pen's Write you can find it here:

Pen's Write

Cardboard Home

2009-01-15T16:46:00.000-06:00

Here in your home, a cardboard box
where slits act as mini-blinds,
you sit sanitized by life.

The label on the box says, "well crafted".
A simplistic box among many boxes, yet
you loving fondle the texture of your home.

Among this collective city of cardboard boxes,
a base for all homeless souls, you stroke
your patchwork quilt of velvet leaves.

Epitaph

2008-12-20T11:27:00.000-06:00

Words are my epitaph.
They lie so easily upon my lips.
I fear not the battle they can bring in anger,
but the carnage left behind.
Yet, softly spoken their nurturing salve
can ease a weary poets wounds.

Purchased Article

2008-12-03T11:44:00.000-06:00

This is a creative writing piece of mine that was purchased from the marketplace on helium, but it all comes from my love of poetry.

http://www.jollyjo.com/scoming/2008/10/3/ahhthe-beauty-of-nature.html

Hello

2008-11-15T10:16:00.000-06:00

Hello, my cries fall like raindrops;

beating against empty walls.
Were I to roam amongst my contemporaries,
would I find solace and peace?

Yes, I believe I would.

I depart now, leaving behind
trails of my visit. Listen
for the heartbeat of my echos.

Concrete Jungle

2008-10-28T16:43:00.000-05:00

Not so long ago I stood

among

Indian blankets, capricious

free.

Now I struggle to catch my

breath.

Stifling metal and concrete

abuse

my innocent life. People are

blinded,

lost in this horrendous jungle.

Scared

of the rain that drops acid,

mixing

with the tar pitched roadways.

This

is their life. Black starless

skies.

The only music is the sound of

sirens.

Hope (Sonnet)

2008-10-27T13:13:00.000-05:00

You speak of love as if it were a game.
Two people acting upon center stage.
Forever and vows, you say, are so lame.
Should I believe differently in this age?

Standing before God, what God did you say?
For crying out loud, is there no more faith?
I guess it's true then, that's why some don't pray.
Losing their beliefs, such a human trait.

What then is left for our children to be?
Robotic, mechanic, less human seems.
I expect more from humanity, see!
Now and forever this is my own creed.

I believe in God, Christianity.
I have faith in my possibilities.

Dream if you dare

2008-10-17T18:55:00.000-05:00

Dream if you dare

Noon of night
vulnerable unaware
voices from shadows
run if you dare.

Thought you'd find salvation
death is all you see
midnight chimes the hour
fear is your reprieve

Helter Skelter visions
pain is on the rise
ride the tide of horror
you may live or die

Should you make it out
this witching hour's dance
count yourself fortunate
others didn't have a chance

The midnight recesses of mind
and heart, tore your dreams
all apart.

November (Acrostic)

2008-10-12T19:07:00.001-05:00

North winds are blowing
on our lands
voraciously consuming the last
embers of summer while
monsoon snow storms
bring white coverlets
enveloping our earth in
restless slumber

Seclusion of night

2008-09-03T15:57:00.000-05:00

Seclusion of Night

In the silence of shadows,
thoughts are hidden.
Music plays,
heard only by me.
Nights ebony color
covers my shoulders,
like my mothers shawl.
No one sees my loneliness.
This ending hurt me.
Tears fall quietly,
puddling on the floor.

Essence of me

2008-09-03T14:12:00.000-05:00

Never would I share myself
so easily in youth,
but age has made me stronger now,
my presence is the proof.
Broken by the hands of life,
first my marriage failed.
Then my soul was compromised,
as cancer tried to kill.
Never was I one to yield,
half way up a hill.
Tempered by the sands of time,
my essence has prevailed.
Asking nothing in return
for kindnesses I've shown.
Despite the road I've traveled on,
I'm proud to say I've flown.

Linen moments (Acrostic)

2008-08-22T17:26:00.000-05:00

Lazy stormy dawning.
Idly lounging
Next to a dripping windowsill.
Eventually someone stirs,
Needing to stretch.

Morning showers
Opening the senses.
Moving between the sheets,
Every nerve tingling;
Needing this reprieve.
Two people,
Savoring linen moments.

What will you do?

2008-08-04T11:18:00.000-05:00

Touch me
Embrace me
Love me
See me
Hear me

My lines I share,
I'm there amid them.
Vulnerable, easily bruised.
Delicate petals, my words.

Go on
Touch
Embrace
Love
See
Hear

But remember,
you hold a piece of me
between your thumb and finger.
So don't abuse my skin, it
will betray your harshness
and others will see.

Yes, you hold a piece of me,
what will you do now?

Writing Desk (Prompt 4)

2008-08-04T10:37:00.000-05:00

My writing desk is my lap.

Upon my lap rest my beloved
ink and paper. Merely items to
some, yet to me its value surpasses
that of silver and gold.

Bent over and lost in thought,
fingers absently tap to a beat
of poetic rhythm on my knee.
My desk cradles these moments.

Lip tucked pensively between
my teeth, I shuffle the papers
on my lap. These papers
which rest upon my "desk"
house the next Pulitzer.

Here in my room,
on my bed, legs crossed
composing poetry; I couldn't
think of a better place to
write.

Poetry Prompt War (Haiku/couplet poem)

2008-07-26T12:24:00.001-05:00

Frightened stone faces
show etchings of lingering
wars, death, fear...sorrow

Friend or foe unknown
too lifeless seekers of death
easily killing

Until there is just
enough life to create a
new generation.

Perhaps they will start over loving peace.
Appreciating brother, sister, niece.

Hands

2008-07-24T15:39:00.000-05:00

The hands that molded me
left upon my body impressions,

on my flesh
my heart
my soul.

In many ways I am thankful,
thankful for those hands
which touched me.

At times those hands hurt me;
well I suppose I needed...reminders.
I did remember too, the imprints
made sure of that.

Those hands that touched my heart,
helped to massage life back into it.
When it would have beat it's last
beat, a gentle nudge started its pumping again.

Hands that touched my soul,
they are the ones that left lasting
impressions. In someway, I carry
their marks with me today. Those
hands are the ones who made me
who I am today.

Harsh, nurturing, giving,
directing. Your hands,
are ones that still keep
me grounded, they've
been my anchor in tumultuous seas.

Because of hands...

I am me.

Birth (Acrostic)

2008-07-18T11:42:00.000-05:00

Beginning of life
Incredibly sweet.
Resolved as a mother to
Treasure this precious cargo.
Humbled by life's greatest adventure.