Category Archives: The Pen

Closer Than You Think

earth is just a place
it cannot hold or mold
people sold the green and
bought the dream that
screams just run and run
and never stop you drop
the cleaning off and drive
through food is always fine
no time to craft a meal or
settle for a moment with
familial ties the lies we tell
so what so fine so why so how
the sacred cow of things we reap
for lack of sleep is not for real
we sleep all day and move as though
we are awake but take
a look around the ground is
rushing at us faster than
the sound of prayers can
catch us dues are owed
but down the road so what
me worry too much hurry
I would like to leave not die
but go away a far off place
with blue and green and peace
a pace that matches me
no slavery to clocks and rocks
that fill our pockets list
the crimes set in the dockets
judge the weak and weary
mothers teary I am leery of
the quicker fixes find a cliff
and spread our wings
no bag of tricks is
going to fix this broken toys
where is the joy that we
were promised by the law
no not the joy just the pursuit
but who is chasing who the cliff
is coming end is drumming
beating out a tempo we can
never dance to take
a chance to care to cry to
write it down so someone
somewhere some how
will now understand that
this is not what I signed up
for ever mindful of my own part
still I find it breaks heart
circled round and round
I chase the thoughts down
alleys filled with saddened faces
all in races to the edge
not knowing that it’s all
there is

Knives of Silver 2

Three Word Wednesday prompts: mention, affinity, fidget

a little back story…

“Grandma, why are we here?”

“Hush child.  Wait and watch.”

Libbie fidgeted.  She was cold and sleepy.  Her coat was scratchy and she wanted to be home in her pajamas and bunny slippers  If mama was home she would make her some hot chocolate.  But Mama had to work. She wondered why Grandma was bringing her with her tonight, a school night.  She knew Grandma always came to the graveyard after a funeral.  She had done it ever since Libbie could remember.  It made Mama mad and she couldn’t figure that out either.  She knew they both loved her but they fought a lot.

Grandma spoke, never taking her eyes off the grave before them. “Soon, Libbie.  Something will happen. You must keep watch.”

Libbie pulled on her grandmother’s sleeve. Will you tell me a story while you watch?

Grandma patted her leg and started to talk.  “You know the stories about Jesus?  From your picture bible?  There are more stories in the big bible.  You will learn them when you get older.  The story I am going to tell you is about the night that Judas turned Jesus in to the authorities. My grandmother told me this story when I was about your age”

“Did your grandmother take you to graveyards? Why did Judas turn Jesus in, Grandma?”

“You ask a lot of questions Libbie Bee.  Yes, my grandmother took me with her, just like her grandmother before her. We have always done this.  Now let me tell you the story. Judas was a bad man and certain things had to happen.  I want to tell you about an important part of the story.  Judas was paid for turning Jesus in.  Later, he felt bad about what he did.  He went back to the people who paid him, and tried to give the money back.  They wouldn’t take it and he threw the money away and went and killed himself.”

Libbie frowned. She didn’t like this story very much. “That’s a sad story Grandma.  I’m sure he was sorry.”

Grandma smiled,  “That may be so, but you will learn as you grow up, that there are some things that people do, that can’t be fixed. They can be sorry, but it doesn’t fix anything.”

Libbie frowned again.  She couldn’t understand what Grandma wanted her to see from this story.

Grandma patted her leg again.  “The thing you need to know is that the money was silver.”

Libbie thought about it for a minute.  “Like your special dust?”

Grandma nodded.  “Yes.  Just like my special dust.  This is a true story Libbie Bee,  Ever since that time, silver has been special. There are other stories, but they will wait for another night.  It’s almost time.”

“Time for what, Grandma?  What are we waiting for?”

Grandma stood and started walking toward the fresh grave, “Stay behind me Libbie.”

A mist had drifted in and Libbie shivered.  The mist seemed thickened like Mama’s gravy in front of the headstone and covered the drooping flowers. Libbie squinted her eyes in the darkness.  There was a low keening sound coming from the grave, and something was moving.  Libbie sat as still as she could, frightened now.  Grandma wasn’t afraid of anything!  She walked right up to the grave, holding her little bag of dust, muttering something quietly.  She reached in the bag and scattered it all over the misty covered grave and the mist turned to sparkling glitter that floated away on the little bit of visible of moonlight. She came back and sat down next to Libbie.

“Do you understand what happened here tonight?”

Libbie slowly nodded her head, her face reflected pale in the rising moon.  “I think so. The dead person wasn’t going to stay buried.  You fixed them.”

Grandma hugged her.  “I told your mama you had an affinity for this.  She didn’t want to listen.” Grandma smiled down at her.  “Don’t you worry though.  It will be alright.  You can come with me from now on and I will teach you.  I think it might be a good idea if we didn’t mention this to your mama.  I don’t mind getting in trouble, but I don’t want her to fuss at you.”

Libbie shook her head.  She didn’t like sneaking behind her mama’s back but she didn’t want more fighting between her and Grandma either. “Can we go home now?”

Grandma got up, dusting off the seat of her pants and reached a hand down to pull Libbie up.  “Let’s go home Libbie Bee.  It’s been a long night for you.”

Didn’t We Shine

what it’s like to burn
to feel the years fall away
like skin shed raw flesh
blood pounding through veins
unclogged untwisted

limbs strong and heart
each part each chamber
beating to rhythm of flames
of a thousand candles
handle anything and everything
hands unmarked reaching
teaching all the rest

the roof is falling
we don’t care the night
is calling moonsongs
heart songs strings plucked
all night long

melting down the heat
sweat on upper lips
pooling in the creases wild
righteous indignation needing
action leads to fixing
needing touching everywhere
at once

trading down measured ways
music plays
a soft refrain the rain will
be our soundtrack as
curtains fall stars fall
in fading stages morning
dawns with cooling dew
breezes scatter ashes

just one breath and sleep
filled eyes closed to the sun
the fashions change
we maybe find a slower roast
makes sweeter saucy meat
we chewed it up it spit
us out
but once we were
sparklers spinning in the dark
fireworks and fireflies
are only beautiful when
they glow and then the night
swallows light
and we are gone

but didn’t we shine

Friend to Poets

friend to poets
no small thing
words though random
come together
collective love of light
dance of letters
each step marked
by voices singing
spark of creator
from created
fingers might
bring all closer
to heaven’s heart
through art
encouraged
by a friend to poets

Write The Night

Sunday Scribbling prompt: fires

little fires
lit by pens
a million words on
scraps of paper
a million lives
finding respite
falling
falling
off the mind of
kind of wistful
fistful of letters
scrambled up and
thrown like dice
the gamble worth
the ramble forth
the smoke rose higher
to the night and
stars will smolder
bolder ones will
come and say
it better
say it clearer
say it cleaner
work it leaner
than we ever could
but still we strike
the match and
tend the flames
it’s what we came for
stayed for
prayed for
just a little warmth
to keep the night
at bay

Raven and Crow

Three Word Wednesday: Stress, figure, Juicy

Raven picked at the juicy worm, glanced around at crow who was tugging his own dinner from the ground.  Something shivered, feathers slicked down.  Wings ready for flight just in case.

Every day they flew together.  Ate together.  Rested in the tree limbs together.

Shaking her head from side to side she saw, just at the edge of vision, a shadow and then it was on him.  Instinct took over.  She wanted to leave and yet she dove.  He was all.  She drove her beak in searching out eyes from the fur and claw and teeth tearing at him.  She dove and dove again, fear in the background, mindless now just dive and stab – dive and stab.  A swash of pain across a wing.  Stray swipe of talon tore stressed flesh.  Ebony feathers drifting in the sunlight.

A moment and the sun was down and she was human again.  On the ground writhing in pain, she forced herself to her feet, ignoring sharpness and blood.  Grasping the throat and squeezing as claws raked and scraped at skin now.

Raven struggled until the life was gone from it and flung it from her.  She crawled over to him, holding his flesh together. “Nooooooo!” She screamed and held him as he whispered one word.  “Broken.”

As the darkness gathered the predator appeared blurred.  It’s feline figure slowly became a red haired woman. It was her. That witch.  Her eyes open towards the purple sky.  “How could you!  You loved him too!”

There was no one left to hear her.  Now what?  Would she be winged again come morning?  Raven walked over and spit on the corpse, giving it a kick to make sure she was dead. “I don’t care if your curse outlives you.  I’m glad you’re dead.  Even your curse couldn’t separate us.”

She dropped next to him and kissed him gently on his forehead, stroking the crow tattoo over his left eye.  Raven stood and stumbled through the night.

Falling…

stepping closer to the ledge
ever nearer freedoms edge
like a leaf pressed under glass
colors frozen you defined me
roses pressed tween paper pages
crumble tumble far too humble
now I spread my wings and leap
pray the future heart to keep
the clouds roll in and burst in sound
and thunder signifying little
round the thinking in my head
the sinking of the ship of prisons
prisms light reflected from the dreams
the streams of rain to wash me clean
I pledge to fall and in the falling
listen for the inner calling
torn the veil oh torn asunder
pulled the net right out from under
all the days stretch on to night
as I am poised for freedom’s flight

This Same Sunset

the evening sky was brilliant
rose and lavender and palest blue
gilded with the last rays
should have lifted my heart…

but as I looked I thought
under this same sky
a man goes home with
a cardboard box and a pink slip

someone searches rubble for
quake survivor
goes home with a hand full of
dust and tears

a father is shot in a protest
against a government
that cares nothing for his loss
while tv shows
bloodstained concrete

the remains of a child
lost sixteen years ago
are identified and a mother
goes to sleep with fresh grief

the weight of the sunset
was crushing
carrying this pain and worry
grief of a world all
breathing the same air
holding the same sky over
bowed heads and shoulders

I think to myself
we are all local
the clouds are golden over
all and the sun sets
to let each sleep or toss
waiting for dawn

I have nothing in my hands
to work or fight
except prayers and
love for my neighbor
who doesn’t know it’s there

I shrink to my tiny space
on a globe and feel the
smallness of my world
the smallness of my heart
marvel at God who
holds it all in His hands

including my tiny heart
and this sunset

Six Days

This was written in January for an All Poetry contest. The parameters were to write a five line piece for six days and that week ended with the shooting of congress woman Gabrielle Giffords.

i.
some days are
just so much sawdust
and splinters
hammers and nails
wasted sweat

ii.
Wednesdays fly by so fast
coffee barely cooled
as night slams down and
I slide into home scraping
cheeks on pillows

iii.
beaten over the head by
boredom – a huge marshmallow
that leaves no bruise
but regret that
there is nothing to feel

iv.
dawn unbroken
world dreams and I
want more cream in my coffee
but the bus is leaving
and I will be on it

v.
days and days upon more
they seem forever
yet are finite
I will live as though
the sand never runs out

vi.
in six days the world
was created
on the news today
one moment and for some
the world ended

Everyone Needs a Cat

All Poetry prompt: “Most people don’t pour a cup of bourbon on their milk and oatmeal in the morning. It’s just the way it is.” (Dan Fante)

Have no idea how or why I went here but here I am…

I went to visit a friend
and we sat
and talked
about nothing in
particular.
I enjoyed the warm
evening breeze
and sipped my drink,
laughed at a joke,
lulled by the sunset.
His cat jumped up on the
bench next to me.
Absent-mindedly
I reached down to stroke
the damn thing and
next thing I know
blood is dripping
down my arm.
There is a lesson
I’m sure, but
for now
I just want a gun
and a bandage.

My Words

my words
are tiny things
that once lived
in my heart
born in confusion
they became
complete surprise
grew in ways I
never thought of
and I pray they
will bear fruit
as they go on
to have lives of
their own

Not Home

like a shirt that doesn’t fit
too short sleeves
tight across the breasts
hitches up in the back
letting the cold chill me
letting cold fill me

my life is a question mark
an unfinished poem
stilted language and
forced rhyme
words written across
gooseflesh and scars

home is an idea
skin stretched across miles
tentative smiles
that don’t quite reach
brown eyes
I never quite get it
I never will

like the dream where
you’re running
with no hope of stopping
and wake upon falling
with a start and a shiver
I wonder forever
if I just don’t belong here

Unashamedly Unplugged

I hear the world
it knocked on
my heart today
music carried feet
breeze washed clean
hinting at spring to come
Slipping round the next cloud
wanting me to rock it out
speed it up give a shout
I hear em say I should
jump right in
down and dirty
focus on the win
moving and shaking
insides quaking with fear
of a fall rushing sound
rushing ground

but I am unashamedly
unplugged
writing my own music
singing my own songs
I will eat my own words
even when they are bitter
I will own my own screw ups
for I’ve been talking to birds
they say gravity is depravity
and all you have to do is leap
focus on the sky and try
the wind will take you
floating on currents
will be easy as breathing
easy as leaving
I will be on the edge of
your vision no derision
erases spirit; makes you crash
unabashed fly as high
as the atmosphere goes
to the ceiling of everything
sing for birds know
that you can go and wheel
in a sun dog spread wings
birds say down is
just another direction
you choose let your wings
be your compass be
your star you are
running and jumping
first ground then the sky

all the stillness of air
rushing by in the silence
you will find it
surrounds you it
abounds in the moments
between feathered ticking of
clocks doesn’t matter
just time if you fly
you can live for a thousand
miles on those minutes
you’re in it outside of it
around it as it courses through
arteries pumping with joy
years are nothing but
counting I’ve given up numbers
for music and color
a life that’s much fuller
for what is not in it
the baggage is dead weight
and miles upon miles piled
on years upon years
I’m leaving the tears
the fears and self hate
I’m talking to birds
wisdom lives in their words

Knives of Silver

Three Word Wednesday: Abrasive, Loss, and Handful

“This way!  Come on!  Jack pulled Libbie’s arm with one hand as he shoved the window open with the other.

“Hope the fire escape is…aww man.”  Libbie looked down and saw what Jack already knew.

“We’re going to have to jump aren’t we…I Hate it when we have to jump!”  Libbie turned away from the window.  “They’re coming!”

Jack pulled Libbie through the window. “Ouch, my head!” Libbie held the top of her head.

“Sorry!  Ready?”

“No, but not much choice is there?” The ladder that used to be part of the fire escape in the abandoned apartment building was gone.  At least they were only on the second floor.  The alley below was full of trash and Libbie hoped they landed on something soft.

“Tuck and roll, right?  Jack kind of chuckled and then leapt.

“Oh crap.” Libbie followed and hit with a thud.  Not soft enough….there was blood dripping from her forehead where she hit the edge of the window sash and she rubbed her ankle as she stood, testing it.  She grabbed Jack’s hand and they ran.  Jack held his other arm close to his side but there was no time to worry about that now.  The wraiths were coming.  They needed a place to hide.  They ran to the street lights and people and wove through the crowd.

“Down there!” Libbie pointed at another alley across the street. She could feel the wraith searching on the edge of her thoughts.  They were close.  She pushed Jack into a doorway. There was only a handful of seconds before the wraith would be right on top of them.

She stood in front of him, holding the darkness around them.  She willed him to be still, hoping that they would pass by.  They would have made it too, if she hadn’t already been weakened from running. They passed so close she could smell them and just as they cleared the alley entrance one of them stopped and turned. She felt it’s slimy mind probing, like nasty abrasive fingers sliding through her brain. She tried to stay silent, to keep herself closed off but it broke through and it felt like knives stabbing her head.  She raised her hands to her head as she dropped to her knees.

The blast of magic must have lit up the sky for miles.  That was her last thought before it all went dark.

Libby woke up. There was nothing but pain and darkness. She half sat and felt around in the dark. Her hand touched a lump covered in fabric.

“Jack?  Jack are you okay?”

The lump groaned.  He was alive.  Libby flopped back down, relieved. She took mental inventory.  Every inch of her felt bruised and her head was pounding, but she was all there.  Wherever there was.

Jacks hand moved against her side.  She reached down and held it.  He squeezed and she squeezed back.

“Ya, me too. We have to figure out where we are.”

“I know. Do you remember anything?” Jack started to sit up and grabbed his head, laying back down.

“After I was mind raped?  Not really.  We’re still alive though, so they must have something more planned than just getting rid of us.  Can you move?”  The headache was receding a little.  Libby started stretching and flexing her muscles.

“I think so.”  Jack rolled over on his side. “They’re waiting for the full moon.  I don’t think we can count on a five star meal or anything.  I wish I could see. It’s dark as hell in here.”

Libby held her hand up and even though it made her head feel worse, she concentrated. A small ball of light appeared in her hand.  They were in some kind of cellar.  The only window was blocked by something from the outside. The walls were damp and moldy looking which accounted for the horrendous smell. A couple of mildewed cardboard boxes sat in the corner and there was plenty of evidence that the main inhabitants were spiders.  They were on the floor at the bottom of a rickety looking staircase.  The bruises she was starting to feel were probably the result of being “helped” down the steps. There was a gallon jug of what looked like water next to them.

“Guess they don’t want us to dehydrate…”

The lightball crackled and went out.

“Better rest for a bit.  I don’t think we’ll miss viewing the decor.”  Jack reached out in the dark for Libbie’s hand and folded her fingers closed.

“Well my powers didn’t help us much in that alley, did they?” Libbie slapped her other hand on the floor, frustrated.

“But we know something we didn’t know before.”

Libbie turned to his voice.  “What the hell do you mean?  That they can beat us up and toss us into a basement?  How does that help?”

“We know they are physical. If we had just been warped here or whatever you want to call it, we wouldn’t be all banged up now.” Jack sounded a little smug.

“I am still at a loss as to how knowing they can kick our asses all the way to a basement can be helpful.” Libbie was tired, sore, and getting a little tired of Jack being so obtuse.

“You may have the magic but I sure would like to see what happens when human fist connects with the face of whatever…what are these guys?”

“Wraiths…I hadn’t thought of that.  I always thought they were more like ghosts or something.  It’s not going to do much good if they can shut down our minds, though.”

Jack sighed.  “My brain wasn’t shut down. I watched you go out of it just as one of those ghouls slammed me and next thing I knew I was slung over what I think was a shoulder and tossed down here.  You on the other hand…Jeez Lib, you scared the hell outa me. You held your head and screamed and I swear I watched your eyes roll up in your head. You were muttering some kind of gibberish and then you just went limp.”

I tried to remember and couldn’t.  There was something right on the tip of my…
“I do remember something!  Just before everything went dark.  I could feel them in my head.  I was concentrating on us staying hidden from their sight when I should have waited and shielded. That’s what the book meant about learning to shield! I have to keep them out of my head”

Jack squeezed my hand in the dark again.  He must have heard the fear and disgust in my voice.  “You can do this.  If you can keep them out, we might have a chance. Rest a bit and I and then we’ll check out those boxes on the other side of the basement.  There has to be something we can use as weapons. I really want to kick some ghoul ass”

Libbie held her hand up again.  “Better go look now.  They could come back any time.”  She lit up the basement and scooted over to get a little cover in the stairwell.

In the glow of the light ball, Jack crawled to the boxes and dragged them over to where Libbie sat.  They opened them and found mostly dishes and jars.  Jack kept digging around and pulled out an old wooden box.  He opened the box and whistled, smiling at Libbie.  “Silver….”

Poetic Flight

poetry comes a butterfly
you cannot call her to you
and once she lights on your shoulder
you must be still for
you are being blessed
she is light as air and will disappear
from your fingers
delicate and easily frightened
you must handle her very gently
or her colors will fade
forever damaged
and instead of flight she was
born for
she will die

Birds of Winter

bird on my porch
puffed up in his parka
so small against the cold
he brings nothing
and takes nothing away
he and his friends
cover the yards
respite from ice
bearing winds
you are welcome
stay awhile give
hope of warmth
to come
you have something to
teach me right
on the tip of your wing
you carry yourself
through skies and
wait for me to learn
I would speak with
you but I am frail
I hide in my house
burning your trees
to keep me warm
while you stand
on cold concrete
staring into sleet

The Diner

Three Word Wednesday CCXXV

conniption; noun: a bad tantrum. One has a conniption or conniption fit.

janky; adjective: broken or functioning poorly or improperly; messed up.

scooch; verb: to move over, or to scoot.

“Scooch over. Is that a Dr. Pepper?” Tara picked up my drink and took a pull on the straw.
“What?  Don’t get all sour-faced. I’ll buy you another!” She set my drink back down, now defiled with her signature shade of “Party Pink” lipstick. Tara couldn’t help being dramatic.  I barely finished that thought when she sighed loudly and and leaned  against the back of the booth, hard enough to make it creak. She wasn’t fooling me, I knew she was very aware that sitting that way thrust her breasts out.  She glanced around, to see if anyone was watching.  Her dark shoulder-length hair fell over one side of her face and curled around her chin perfectly. My boring light brown hair always seemed to stick out at odd places. Of course, all the guys in the place were looking. They always did. It was lunchtime and half the construction workers in town ate at Lulus.  It wasn’t gourmet but the portions were huge and the coffee pot never got empty.

“Would you stop already?  Do you have to do that?”  I tried to whisper but I should have known better.  Tara liked attention.

Tara rolled her eyes while checking out her reflection in the napkin holder. “Well don’t have a conniption fit.  Honestly Kate , sit up straight.  Why don’t you do something with your hair?”  She reached out and pushed my hair back from my face.

“Shhh!  Do you have to talk so loud?”  And leave my hair alone.  It’s fine the way it is!”  I should have been used to it but she still made me feel like I dressed right out of the Salvation Army store.  I picked up my purse and stared pointedly at her.

“Alright.  Alright!  Don’t be like that.  I’ll be good.”  Tara smiled and gave me that look that she thought was sincere and would make everyone forgive her.  We had been friends since grade school and I wondered at least once a week, why I put up with her. Well actually I knew.  Nobody knew Tara the way I did.  She was, well…her life had not been easy so far.  She tried to act like she didn’t care about anyone or anything, but that wasn’t close to the truth.

“I thought you were shopping this morning.” Tara was always shopping.  She constantly complained about the lack of variety in Newton.  She dreamed about moving to the city.

“I was.  Arielle told me they were supposed to get a shipment in Friday but the truck never showed up.  Same old stuff.” Tara bit a french fry. When she reached for another I slapped her hand.  “Don’t you ever buy your own?”

“You know I am on a diet!”

Not that it mattered.  Tara had more clothes than anyone I knew and she didn’t need to diet.  She was a perfect size six.

“The reason I stopped was to tell you the news!”  Tara’s dark eyes were wide and I knew whatever she had to say would probably mean trouble for me.  It usually did.

“What now?” I sighed and rolled my eyes.  I could plug my ears, but it would just stave off the inevitable.

“There’s a party tonight at the quarry!  Barrett Evers is going to be there!  Now, don’t look at me like that.  You know I have been trying to get him to notice me ever since he moved to town.  This is the perfect opportunity!”

Tara had crushes on half the boys at Newton High and she had dated most of those.  Nothing long term though.  She was easily bored.

“You know we have a history test and my mother still hasn’t gotten over the last party you talked me into.  I was grounded for a month!” I sat back and put both hands on the table, trying my best to look determined.  I don’t know why I bothered.  The janky leg on the booth wobbled as Tara got up.

“I will pick you up at six.  Wear something sexy and for God’s sakes, fix your hair!”

Tara flipped her hair out of her face and turned and limped out the door, her leg brace creaking as she popped her hips. The construction guys quietly turned back to their plates, suddenly busy with their meals.

I put my head in my hands.  It was going to be a long night.