Category Archives: The Pen

Doors

there are doors
that keep us safe
and doors that
keep us near
and doors to worlds
we wish to see
down paths
so dark and drear
we cannot see
around the bend
the future all unknown
and yet we walk
without a map
and hope
to make it home

all must walk
the path alone
though married
young or old
a hand may make
for comfort now
staving off
the cold
but to the world
we come alone
and leave the
very same
pass through the
veil of sorrow here
leave words
our only fame

 

image credit: Carmen Spitznagel

Magic Chicken

Rowan examined the pages of the codex for the third time. The words blurred and rambled over the page.  She pushed her hair off her face and wished for a breeze. The fire burned hot enough to make satan uncomfortable but a shiver ran through her, chilling her blood til it felt gelid and swollen in her heart.

“If I don’t do this, Aidan will die.  If I don’t do this right, I will die.” she thought.  Neither choice was acceptable. She had walked all day after visiting the old woman in the cave.  Most of her advice was nothing but headology and that might work on the poor folk in the valley who were ignorant of the true path.  Rowan needed real magic tonight and real magic demanded blood.  She had a catheter ready to insert into her own vein and prayed for the resilience to follow through.  She sighed and read the page one more time.

“Defenestrate?  Why didn’t it just say throw it out the window?” She sighed half from frustration and half from exhaustion.

When she had drained the required amount of blood from her own arm, she applied herbs and a clean cloth to close the wound. She was ready for the incantation.

gizzards and feathers
shall be mixed with the blood
for reincarnation
needs more than mud
twice to the left
thrice to the right
at gibbous moon
in pale dead light

Aidan moaned on the cot and opened his eyes.

“Shazam” He smiled weakly at her.

“Shut up fool”  Rowan’s knees gave out and she sank down beside him.
“You owe me seven chickens!”

creativecopychallenge.com

codex
defenestrate
gizzard
headology
gelid
catheter
reincarnation
shazam
resilience
burn

phew, that was a tough one…

The Business of Life

going about
the business of life
running and pleasing
never feeling you are enough
breathing constricted
thinking conflicted
you can lay it down
look around
feel the air on your skin
sun warmed a mystery
of cloud shadows
moving over your face
over the valleys of deep
sorrow and peaks
of joyous heights snowbound
where the bristle cone pine
twists around your heart
chases rabbit and raven
and laughter and haven
for all earth just waits
while going about
the business of life

inspired by “Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver

Written for dVerse

 

Not THAT Tired…

there is tired
and there’s tired
and right now
I am feeling
every stinking sinking
ache and creak
and pain that sneaks
in older bones
like telephones are
calling all the joints and
things are screaming
this is seeming
like it should be
happening to someone
could be maybe older
temper smolders
I’m not that one
I’m not aging
I am raging and not going
with no fighting
let me tell you
I’ll work through it
I am staying and
I’m playing and some
singing
maybe dancing
there’s a party and
I’m hanging I’m not missing
one sweet second
if I have to then
it won’t be graceful
if I go
well then I know
that you will all start
doing fun stuff
so I’m calling
father time’s bluff
stick me up
in that back corner
I’ll be quiet
and just listen
write my stories
and my poems
just a scribble
maybe nibble on a snack
or maybe two
just let me stay
what do you say?

Written for Open Mic Night at dVerse

Disappearing Ink

Albie wrapped the rags around his neck and mouth and shivered.  The smoke from the fire smelled of something dead and gave off little heat.  He got more warmth from the people gathered around. He longed for quiet as the noise pounded into his head.  A group on the corner was beating on cans and rusted sheets of metal, shards of glass rained down from the vacant building above and someone in the corner was moaning. Albie kept his eyes lowered and shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

Just yesterday, the sun was shining as he kissed his wife goodbye and left for the office.  Everything had been one long night since. His office was an empty lot like the whole east side of town. At least that was what he heard. It was forbidden to go to that sector so there was no way to know for sure.  Albie wondered about Jeff who used to be in the office next to his. Did he survive? He used to keep a picture of his family on his desk. Pretty wife and two tow-headed daughters grinned in front of a brick house in the burbs. He would rather think about times at his old job than Sarah.  That opened up a desolate pit of pain that was best avoided.  People whispered about an apocalypse. Albie figured he was in hell.

An old man shuffled forward, breaking all the rules. He looked each person straight in the eye until they returned his stare for a second.  He patted this one and that one on the shoulder as he wandered around the alley.  Fool! He will be dead before morning, Albie thought! Sure enough, the old man wandered into a dark corner and after a scuffle, he was just gone.  Crazy Mary cackled and rocked, pulling her cardboard up around her.  Albie wondered once why no one bothered her, Then one night he saw a fat man reach down for a piece of her makeshift house and screamed when a flash of silver drew a dark line across his hand.  Albie stayed well away from Mary’s wall after that. Her cackle ran shivery fingers up his spine.

Albie’s fingers closed around the crumbling piece of paper in his pocket. He had rubbed it for so long the ink was gone. It didn’t matter. He knew the words by heart.

Ten words from Creative Copy Challenge

Yesterday
Apocalypse
Gone
Empty
Desolate
Forbidden
Time
Eyes
Know
Vacant

99%

ejected from polite society
presumed impropriety
how was I to know
and now there’s nothing
left to show but
oily shadows inching away
from salvation
coating grace with heart debris
keeping joy at bay
keeping me down
keeping me sleeping
under cardboard
under fire escapes
that go nowhere
nothing but dead air
and the rat-a-tat
of an impact wrench
around the corner
I am rendered silent
spinning out on waves
of our disconnect
strung out cans
with no string between
slip the grasp
as morning clears
peeling tar paper
revealing concrete
frosted by rusted pipes
I turn my head
make myself small
make myself small
you don’t see me

 

Three Word Wednesday prompts: eject, impact, render

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j8t4Sjmlc-w&feature=related

 

This gentleman says it much better than I ever could.  http://wheneftalks2.blogspot.com/

 

 

The Usual

The only sounds in the room were the quiet tinkling of washed glassed being put back on the shelf, creating a beat for the soft murmur of conversation.  Soft lighting and muted colors completed the picture.  Her Manolo Blahniks clicked with each syncopated step across the terrazzo tiles. She placed a lozenge on her tongue and inhaled the scent of cardamom and cinnamon.

Glancing at her reflection in the window, she knew her exacting routine had paid off in sumptuous skin, flat belly, and slim muscular legs. Tori smiled to herself and closed her eyes for a moment.  The shiny brass trimmed bar was unoccupied except for two gentlemen watching a muted football game. Tory leaned against the bar, and delicately reached for  a napkin.  The bartender nodded at her and she listened to the two suits circular masturbatory speeches. Neither was listening to the other, just making noise. Their conversation degraded and tapered off completely as they became aware of Tori standing a few feet away. Blue suit, brown hair smiled slightly and his friend turned to get a better look.  Blond hair, gray suit smiled too.

“Sweetheart, you have saved me from a very boring afternoon! Can I buy you a drink?  Bartender!  Please bring the lady a libation!”

He leaned forward as he spoke and Tori had to control herself so that her disgust didn’t reach her face.  His breath smelled like he had gargled with whiskey.

She smiled and nodded.

“Wonderful! I promise my intentions are nefarious.” The fool waggled his eyebrows and then winked as though they were two old friends sharing a joke. Tori smiled at the bartender.  “My usual please.”

She held her clutch bag tighter under her arm. taking pleasure in the shape of the knife deep in the inside pocket.  My usual indeed.

Writing Challenge from http://www.creativecopychallenge.com/writing-prompts-creative-copy-challenge-182/

Create a cohesive story using the ten words that are bolded above. Go to the site and check it out – some wonderful short stories there!

Goodnight

I stand and watch
at even tide
they wait in shadow
of timberline
I watch. they watch
we wait each night
and when the fullness
of the light
lay on the field
in gentle glow
they turn and silent
as the stars
like twilight ghosts
they go
and left alone
in dark to dream
and yet bereft
I turn away
and wonder if
they miss me too
and will they come
tomorrow

I leave it here

curled around hunkered over
covering the soft the pale
the unshelled inner
on the ground all the sound
that beats around my ears
and all I hear is my own screaming
dreaming of a silence deeper
feel the vines, a slippery creeper
wraps and strangles off the breath
my heart, my heart
oh God, my heart
It swells and shrinks and now
I think that it will burst no maybe
not just petrify and calcify the bony cover
pull it over shut the door
stay on the floor it’s safer here
the air is clear and even in the darkness
falling over me just cover me
like angel wings just shelter me
while I am torn just hear my prayer
I let it out a little bit
protecting it while healing happens
you will see the sun will come
I will it – Come! I’ll stand again
and take you with me
hold my hand I know you can
I know you can
You can.
I say this now
and leave it here.

Romance is Not All Flowers

The years of living tell the tale of proof.
A second glance is not enough to know
If all will hold beyond the blush of youth,
with more than memories for each to show.

Through crisis, childbirth, bills and petty fights,
the truest tests of how we’re really made,
Of bed-spanned chilly shouldered angry nights
when words cut deeper than the sharpest blade…

Yet when the dark gives way to clocks and sun,
I know who shares the day throughout the years,
And who will meet me when that day is done,
stick through the heartaches, laughter, even tears

We chose to put down roots in close confine,
As tree limbs over years grew intertwined.

1.  3 quatrains of alternating rhyme and a couplet all written in iambic pentameter. In this sonnet form, the premise of the poem is established in lines 1-8, a turn (or volta) toward its resolution begins at line 9 and the resolution is revealed in lines 13 & 14.
      a b a b
c d c d
e f e f
g g

2.  A total of 14 lines,

3. 10 syllables per line.

 

The main thing I am unsure of is the pentameter.  It gives me fits…

The Insect Ball

 

Everybody’s doing it dancing it
Shaking it getting down and dirty with it
Bugging out hugging out
The band is really rocking out
The crickets singing back it up
All the little ants will hack it up
Their mandibles will chew it up
The honey bee is sunny
And my money’s on the wasp
With the stinger
She’s a singer gonna put
The hurt upon you
Close your eyes you
Never see her
Only hear and in the clear
It’s not your year the hive
Is buzzing quit your
Fussing stay away from that one
She’s a playa and the preying
That she does is all the buzz but look
At widow she’s in black
And looking fly
But don’t you try she loves
And leaves you
In a web that’s gonna
Weave you right into
The mainline she’s a mantis
And she’ll school you
Then she’ll fool you
Into thinking that you’re
Drinking at the party
Insect madness
Hopping gladness
Think you love her
Her agenda is to end you
She will take and when
She’s sated you are fated
Make your exit from the ball
Her love bite ain’t just a nibble
She wants all and let’s not quibble
Ladybug is nice
And gives the best advice
Just
Fly away just fly away
Fly away home

 

for a contest on AllPoetry 🙂

also Sunday Scribbling prompt: Plan B

image credit:

http://shadowness.com/waugh/kroma-02

I Am Right There

In words I am laid bare for all to see
though often more than I would mean to be.
The truths sneak out in thought and crafted phrase,
I hope to hide my soul in verbal haze.

I look between the lines and lose the key
that locked the parts away I would not see.
I’m tangled in the syllable divide,
no hidden meaning ever on my side.

In punctuated periodic ends,
The parenthetic mysteries abound.
I duck below the message that it sends,
Pronounced alive in melody of sound.

 

working on iambic pentameter…I hope 🙂

* evidently, it is not iambic but it is rhyming quatrain composed in decasyllable…back to school!

Dreams In My Hand

When I was young
and the universe sung
past the stars and the moon
in the sky gently hung

I could stretch past the edges
balance freely on ledges
felt the life force within me
honored all of my pledges

Now as I get older
things seem a bit colder
the universe smaller
Those younger seem bolder

the outside world shrinking
but never my thinking
my internal world growing
though outside is sinking

The ground where I stand
may be sinking sand
but my heart flies in clouds
I hold dreams in my hand

 

 

Image credit: Diego Arrigoni

Lollipops and Corpses

Sam and Ivy followed the restaurant owner.

“The body’s back there.  I’d rather not see it again.” He pointed at the back door. They opened the door and light spilled out. Reflections from the police bubble rotated colors across the face of the corpse.

Sam stared at the body. “What kind of wound leaves blisters around the edges?”

“I don’t know.  Bishop said something about enzymes.” Ivy took a lollipop out her jacket pocket and unwrapped it.

Sam frowned. “How can you eat with that stink?”

Ivy grinned at him. “I’ve smelled that before. In Chicago.”

“Holy shit. He’s back?”

Enzyme.
Ivy.
Bishop.
Blister.
Lollipop.

100 words only.
http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2011/09/16/flash-fiction-challenge-the-numbers-game/

Bam!

Statuesque

weep for us
you stone and steel
for we have lost our way

rough weather
cast patina still
your age cannot conceal

that what you were
and what we are
our fates both would be sealed

For we are frozen
hardened cast
scars that will not heal

your outside matched
our inner hearts
we’ve lost the will to feel

Sunday Scribbling prompt: Sensation

White and Gold

there was a girl
she held the light inside her
the darkness tried
to cover it
the sadness tried
to put it out
she held and stuck and waited
she held the light
waited for the dark
to erode away to dawn
from broken heart
it shone and spread
to all who observed
tenuous connections
of paper and wires
a silence so loud
it crossed time zones
until gold stuck to synapse
white wrapped round
and round and held
the light to all
pieces shared
light shared
held by a thousand fingers
can’t be extinguished
and all help carry
the light
the gift
the heart

 

prayers for a friend