Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Now, It Is Done

Now, It Is Done

Now, it is done.
The sun's warmth heals
my battle-worn body,
soothes deep wounds,
penetrating my skin, my bones,
my connective tissue,
stitching together my disconnect.
The final stand made,
I will endure all consequences.

Now buried,
left for dead,
I shovel the last wet soil
upon my sepulcher.
Lungs fill
with the smell of raw earth,
time for lamenting has passed,
all the mourners gone home.

Now risen
with the misted moon
and blackened sky,
linger, until morning lifts
the diaphanous veil of night
from my eyes,
breathe deeply,
the light of dawn.

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Take Me Now

Take Me Now

Take me now-
my blue-eyed lion,
devour my flesh,
for when the goddess awoke,
the seductress woke with her,
filled with an insatiable hunger,
an unquenchable thirst.

Take me now-
my blue-eyed lion,
I offer you my throat,
I offer you my wrists,
for my heart pounds inside these veins,
life's blood pulses wild,
devour this fire,
that threatens to consume me,
reduce my body to embers.

(Offered up for the poetry prompt "Wild" over at Dversepoets.com)

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

wind howling, concrete morning

wind howling, concrete morning

wind howling
concrete morning
pushed from sleep
jar of dreams
collected, sifted
bellowing smoke
ashen concrete
tepid coffee
weak in the knees
trying to fight sleep
on subway cars
stay awake
pushing dreams
and the urge
to stay upright
fresh graffiti
seated beside me
strange markings
primitive art
from underground tribes
marking territory
drumming rhythms
clackety-clack, clackety-clack
in distant tunnels
pushing dreams
down my throat
clackety-clack, clackety-clack
forced to look
through the darkness
what is seen and unseen
clackety-clack, clackety-clack
unreal, unkempt
disheveled, unknown
clackety-clack, clackety-clack
mechanized blood
speeding through man-made veins
clackety-clack, clackety-clack
we are mere illusions, illusive
ego-driven, driven crazy
clackety-clack, clackety-clack
dreams kick in
pushed from sleep
sitting on subway cars
fighting the urge
to stay upright
sipping tepid coffee
wind howling
concrete morning

(Posted for open link night at dversepoets.com)

Saturday, November 19, 2011



Lethal injection,
to stop a beating heart,
shattered mine like glass.

My decision-
to end the life
of my sweet friend.

I hold myself accountable.

Word of the Day: heart-rending. (adj) causing much grief or mental anguish.

Friday, November 18, 2011

Silence the Voices

(This is my attempt at Staccato form poetry for dversepoets.com
I only was able to complete the first stanza. I decided to post it anyway. This was not an easy form for me, but I'm always willing to try new ideas.)

Silence the Voices

Silence the voices, uproarious crowd,
shout to be heard, I abhor noise this loud.
Be still! Be still! Quiet the din,
whispered through the glorious wind.
Sent the crowds home early, dispersed, dismissed.
Be still! Breathe in silent, soft morning mist.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Called Myself Jezebel

Called Myself Jezebel

"Called myself Jezebel",
words from a song
caused a head-on collision,
anger and sorrow,
a sledgehammer to the sternum,
struck an opposing force
that yielded before me,
losing my balance,teetering,
p l u m m e t i n g...

"Called myself Jezebel",
I carved deeply,
the letter on my chest,
each slow, deliberate cut,
scarlet rivulets of pain,
keening as crimson rivers ran,
my self-imposed punishment.

"Called myself Jezebel",
on my knees, asked forgiveness,
for all the hurt I've caused,
l a m e n t i n g ...
Now, ripped wide open,
raw and bleeding,
r e v e a l i n g ...
first seeds of hope,
planted long before winter
held the ground suspended.

(10,000 Maniacs, "Our Time In Eden", song "Jezebel": a beautiful poem/lyrics, referenced in my poem)

Saturday, November 12, 2011

Idiomatic Ideology

Over at dversepoets.com, the prompt is "idioms".

Idiomatic Ideology

When it's down to the wire,
my ideas dropping like flies,
I was still determined,
come hell or high water
to come up with a poem.
Back to the drawing board,
I knew I was against the clock,
must cut to the chase.....
Here goes:

If I wear my heart on my sleeve,
it's bound to end up in the wash.

Elvis has left the building.*

*(No poets were harmed during the making of this poem)

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Words, Like Petals

Words, Like Petals

like petals,
fall from my eyes,
lifting my gaze

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Outside, January Morning

Outside, January Morning

Outside, January morning,
crisp, still air of dawn,
hoar frost blankets the rows
of green and purple lettuce.
The sun hasn't climbed the wall
to greet the garden
with it's brilliant yellow light.

Inside, I wrap my hands around
a warm, golden cup of tea,
breathing in curls of opalescent steam,
taking in that first, wonderful sip.
Sacred ritual of morning begins my aubade,
quiet contemplation, silent stillness
before I am kissed
by the climbing yellow light of day.

Word of the Day: aubade. (noun) a piece sung or played outdoors at dawn, usually as a compliment to someone. ORIGIN:French, equivalent to aube, the parting of two lovers at dawn.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

The Pattern of Thoughts

the pattern of thoughts

paralyzing words, in a coma, enigma,
games of the flesh, a cacophony of sound,
dances, my heart floats downward, a spiral,
a staircase, in any case, descends to the ground.

perpetuated by noise, it grinds at my eardrums,
the beat hums, between thumbs, bangs and guffaws,
the clatter, the matter, caught in the dead space,
like echoes, it beckons, a discordant note between walls.

jumpy and frightened, my language will dwindle,
my world in a coffin, where soil meets the sky,
disappointment and joy will laugh in a spiral,
it sings my heart happy, yet the pain never dies.

this poem came out of an interesting stream of consciousness exercise where you write one page each day, for ten days. you don't think, just let your hand write whatever comes. you put each page away and don't read them until you've completed all ten pages. then you go back and read what is on the pages and highlight the words or phrases that speak to you, write those down and reread and edit until you come up with a poem or seed of a poem. this was so much fun and i was surprised by the results. the above poem was almost completely there on the first page i had written and i don't even remember writing it.