Prompt: T.S. Eliot “I will show you fear in a handful of dust.”
Sifting dust through clay fingers
I am kin to soil and memories linger
Beginnings in a clod of dirt
Though daily consciousness seems to skirt
soft edges, for my spirit burns
Still from dirt I came
and to dirt return
wide-eyed lightening
reaches tentative fingers
into moist earth
rumbles with the shock
of sudden connection
surrounds herself
with dark clouds
weeping with mystery
oneword.com prompt: trailer
vines spread their fingers
through the grass
up the blistered post..
blossoms deepest red
trumpet the dawn
more as sun grows higher
trailer tendrils spring open
stretch finding only air
for now
prompt – gentle 15 word limit
I thought to
hear miracles trumpeted.
Oh grace for
quiet whispers,
your hand,
my life.
OneWord : Iron
bits and pieces drawn to patterns
ferrous detritus making us the pile
the splinters the shivers
the magnetic quivers at the poles
north and south it doesn’t matter
push me pull you
by forces and tides
it’s in the walls
no one can hide just ride
it out slide down to the lower floors
run through the doors
flung wide outside the
moon is calling
to blood and iron
Watching the clouds
from my back porch
sailing across the steel sky.
I wonder where could they be going?
A nightbird is singing goodnight
to the morning and the honeysuckle
lays heavy on the air.
I realize that spring is not coming.
I have been watching and waiting
and she has been on her way
and yet
here she is and
she is not spring at all
she is summer.
Like those racing clouds
all in a constant state
of movement
even when I cannot see.
I wonder if the changing seasons
are God’s way of trying to teach me
this lesson over and over,
That the only constant
besides Him, is change.
He is always creating.
I say goodbye to winter
as spring moves in
and the glory of summer.
Crucifixion comes before
resurrection
the season whispers.
we all push the envelope
push the line
whine and dine and wine
and see just how much closer
to the edge throw hedges
up around us when retreat
is called for treat ourselves
much better and much worse
that others curse the darkness
while we bitch about the
light bill climb the hill
just to see what’s on the other side
the ride is worth it we tell
ourselves our hearts on shelves
protected so we say but then
we may or may not lay it out
lay it down play it close to the vest
fail the test what is the answer
fly by the seat of our pants
or plan it out to each and every
little detail wail when all
goes wrong we are not strong
and yet we are it’s all just small
stuff but we sweat it and we let it
twist us up and round
the sound of all the cries the lies the
blame is cast the past
it shapes us takes us down
a beaten path we are so lost
so lost but still we get up
one more time put one more
dime in the machine
take one more chance
at one more dance and hope
that this time
this time
this
these I leave you
these tiny notebooks
filled with pieces
of my heart my mind
my memories, my life
these are mine alone
a more selfish indulgence
than anything I have done
these I share
I sing from a place
that cannot be
but is
I sing from a place
I keep for me
I leave you with
this one piece of advice
keep a place
for yourself
always
the world will take things
and leave things
you never wanted
your dreams will fade
or change
because what we
see inside
is never what it is
but in this place
you keep
dreams can live
you can sing
and you will remember
that I told you this
that I left these pieces
these words for you
I laid it down here
because I couldn’t
hold it in
anymore
Image Source: http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v462/glass0rthodoxy/finalquilt.jpg
weeks pass by
with no moments in them
colors running together
as though they were left
out in the rain
moments can come
holding lifetimes
where stars are born
and weeks eclipsed
AP prompt – White Picket Fences
iron padlocks on
white washed fences
keep dirty laundry in
dreams impaled
on splintered points
rusty hinges creak
their dissatisfaction
there is a place
inside
that wants to say
what can’t be articulated
to make beautiful
what can’t even be seen
and the frustration
of the attempt
undermines me
and leaves me gasping
hungry for finer food
in grown up yards
they have no place
marring the green carpet
suburban blight
plucked and thrown on
a burn heap
but they always return
but as a child…
rubbed on chins
“do you love butter?”
pick a bouquet for mama
tied in chains
to wear on tangled
sun-bleached
fly-away hair
just a weed
carrying the beauty
of sun of summer
of butter and sun-bleached
barefoot brown legs
in cotton shorts
thrown on a trash heap
remembered as a crown
finest jewels
words run away
like wishes leaping off a bridge
I would leap too if you
told me to
I would do it all
dare and doubledare
bet I would
if I could
though I know
I shouldn’t
thoughts slip through
sticky fingers
steal away tomorrow
just on the edge of dawn
I’m safe here
maybe that’s the problem
too much comfort
not enough chance
I try to catch them
off in the nether fields
of green waiting for rain
waiting for sun
for a mind that is calm
for a settled heart
for hands that catch
but not cling
for words that rest easy
on paper that doesn’t
accuse
as though I committed
a crime that sits
heavy on shoulders
that would carry more
I wait
AllPoetry prompt: Convince Me
have I got a deal for you
a steal the wheel will spin
and you can win and breast
enhancement penis
implants whiter teeth
fresher breath will all be yours
for just a song a shamwow
cleans and disinfects and wait
there’s more the steak knives
change lives grow some
hair where you have none
make it leave those unwanted
spaces the places we won’t mention
hey did I tell you
here to sell you glory genius
perfect abs no anal leakage
plumbing seepage shake
the flakes I got what
it takes and it can be yours
and if you hurry scurry
curry favor with the credit
card folks just dial the number
for deeper slumber
husband a slob?
no prob say goodbye
to rags and mops and
arches that drop just look at me
I’m sixty three and not a wrinkle
no drippy tinkle live forever
decay never you’ll be broke
but you’ll look good
in that prepaid coffin
they cart you off in
five cent moon
in a million star sky
astronomers eyes
ages past
mapping out heaven
as though it could
be quantified
qualified to describe
a universe hung with
more care than the icicles
on mama’s Christmas tree
“you can’t just stand there
and throw them
just because you like
the sparkle”
she said.
there’s beauty in order
and caring shows
I hear sirens in the distance
and feel the weight of
dark matter pressing down
the souls marching through
time and space
those I loved and lost
all who came before
whisper breeze of nightbird
wings in passing
lifts weight
and stars become stars
once again
chaotic dancing
as I watch them sparkle
blood surges through
veins like ocean tides
we ride it out slow
ebb and flow through
nature’s valves the
beating of earth
that salves pain
rhythm of rain
the perigee draws
moon to us
and us to moon
eyes ablaze and heads
upturned we burn to howl
the night and with the dark
pull clouds away as
curtains misted
running higher
ever higher to the
highest places open
spaces throats swell we tell
all the night is ours is moon
is soon to turn away
the earth we live on
planet spins on orbit
comes round covers
ground that glows
light shows ripples on the lake
branches reach to take
the moon in arms of bark
and leaves we grieve
she fades with dawn
the magic gone as sunrise
overpowers but for hours
she is soft and bright
our light our moon
Image Credit – my beautiful daughter Jessica Martin
I love to write…I love it more than anything else I do. It is cathartic, surprising, challenging, and deeply personal. It is also frustrating, scary, humbling, and a journey. I like to write fiction AND poetry but I can’t seem to do both at the same time. I don’t shift gears easily.
I wonder if anyone else writes both and experiences the same problem or if it is just the way my brain works. I have a story rolling around in my head right now and it seems to block the poetry side of my thoughts. If I am on a roll with poetry, I can’t seem to switch to fiction.
Can I do both?
I feel like I should have started years ago and now I am running to catch up. Is that part of the problem? I seem to run forward and then crawl backwards to read and take notes and figure out what I need to know to keep moving forward. I think I have a talent for it. I know there is so much I need to learn. I’ve jumped ahead and there is a lot of bad writing to do with the goal of becoming better.
Maybe I just need to slow down and relax a bit…slow down and take more time with each piece. I have been taking part in the local Poet’s Society and it is a whole new high, to get an immediate reaction to what I have written. It motivates me to write more and better. I’m still stuck…but I know it is temporary.
Oh God ! You are a bird of the sky
and I am chained to earth
by the gravity of my soul.
I can barely gaze on the high
places where you have left
your footprints in the dew.
I feel you in the warm breeze
that moves across the grasses
where I walk in the morning,
though I would run like a child
to catch you; my steps are small
and the dandelions catch my eye.
I lie in the meadow and catch
your smile in clouds piled on
clouds, banked and traversing
heavens that make me wonder;
how did you think of blue?
You sparkle in the evening stars
as though the planets were
not enough. You scattered
gems like grains of sand to you,
and dressed the sky in your
finery. A curtain drawn
across the heat of the sun you
give us rest and we wait for
you, for morning, for an end
to mourning
For flight.
For joy.
Photo Credit: This photo was taken by Timmie D. McEachern of Minden, Louisiana. He and my husband went to school together and recently reconnected through Facebook. Timmie takes wonderful photos of local wildlife hopefully, with his permission, more will find their way to this blog.
see more pics here
