walking through the cold morning
two blackbirds swoop down and
yell at me as they pass by
gliding on currents
that move silent over my head
wake up! wake up!
shiny ebony spots in
a gray sky reminding me
that spring will come on the
same currents blowing warm rain
to green the earth and melt
the goosebumps on my arms
sleeping winter dreams
sprout spider lilies around my feet
and shake out the blue sky
wake up!  wake up!
I’ll wrap my heart in blankets
and tend the fire
keeping watch with
blackbirds

mundane chores
pinch cheeks
I move through days
forgotten hours
clocks foreign language
but mirror hands
tell stories

I put out a finger
touch stars in
deep night
thinking to find
answers
but silence echos
I feel nothing but cold

every day in rooms
that are never black and white
decisions are made
people are moved like
pieces on a game board
no monopoly on pain
the red queen wants to
live on boardwalk
but now she is unemployed
the duke of hearts is selling
a lifestyle on the corner
and you will pass go and
pay your money down if you
go that way the deck shuffled
up the ladders and down the
chutes every decision changing
the score and the ones who
hold the rule book keep
changing their minds
foreclose on this property
raise that one’s taxes
spend the retirement fund for
those guys they won’t have a clue
they will gesture all they want but
book or movie rights won’t make a
difference to the one with the
gun in the library whose health
insurance was canceled when
his wife needed an operation
the game of life is multi-colored
and we place our bets but the
only sure thing is in the end
our castles all fall to the white king
checkmate

image credit: http://www.gallery4collectors.com/MLWalker-CastleKeep.htm

You think you are clever?
Let me make you a promise!
My will trumps clever.
Concrete can’t choke roots
that burrow deep into soil.
Tall buildings can’t completely
block the sun and the rain,
the sweet rain, will still reach me
and I will grow.
Birds will nest in my limbs
in spring and hatch strong
babies that will remember.
My leaves will shade the old
woman and her shopping cart
in summer and she will
continue on her journey.
I will part traffic and slow
the hurried drivers to keep
them safe and I will grow.
The asphalt will lift
as my roots spread and weeds
will sprout in cracks for
I am life and I will
not be contained.

http://www.tonylawphoto.com/files/images/landscape/tree.jpg

AP contest Entry

For years and years I lived
inside a cage of my own making. I
don’t know how it was built. I only know
I somehow felt it and I woke one
day to bars and knowing I was looking out
and stuck within, but I am breaking free
and spreading wings and singing loud.
I’m taking off and soaring sky high. Why
you ask? I tell you now, that in the cage is
not a place for birds or people hearts and
not a second too soon says I. I fly
and wave goodbye to those
who stay in cages, though the bars are
breached. I reached and high and
higher even though the sun may scorch
the downy feathers freedom is a sweet
sweet song. The bounds are slipped and
gravity is just a dream I left behind inside
my mind I have the love, the hope, the
strength, to leave the planet, pass through
clouds and loudly take the flight. The light
will guide me. I will close my eyes, but
still I see with soul and heart and in the center
deep and true I know I flew and keep
the ground behind, below. It’s not for me,
for now I know that there is nothing holding me
to earth but fear and doubt. It’s not about
the cage.
It’s about the wings

Image unknown from photobucket

A contest posted on All Poetry asking the question: What is your passion?
Rather than a constructed poem, I just wrote some thoughts.

I know I should but don’t,
have patience with those
who wish for death as though
it were a great adventure,
a solution to life’s troubles.

I know I should look forward
to heaven and a part of me does…
but I am in this world.
It’s all I know, though heaven is
dreamed of, prayed for.

Faith is a tricky thing.
I have it, but need more.
For now my passion is
divided between this world and
the next.

I love this earth, the sky, the sun.
The creatures that roam the land
and sky and seas are a wonder…
the sound of music or babies laughter
the feel of my husband’s hands.

The smell of coffee in the morning,
or gardenias in bloom,
the feel of sun on my face, and
cool grass under bare feet…
losing track of time in a good book.

So many things that I love,
and you ask what is my passion?
There are many things that
I could say. Music, writing, love
But the answer boils down to this:

Life.

AllPoetry Prompt

Rictameter using angel as the two syllable word

The party was a big success.
I had the shoes, the hat
the dress.
I danced dawn under the table
and I drank until my nose  well
you know…
but
I never got his name –
the one who danced,
who’s hand was at my back
and guided every graceful step
as though my feet were
winged things
and smiled awhile.
I never tired.
Now I sit
and wonder if
a hundred years will
pass ere I forget
this night,
this dance.

Image Prompt: http://img3.visualizeus.com/thumbs/10/11/03/girl,glamour,vintage,fashion,retro,surreal-4870a22c65bd353f962a8596bec6d1cc_h.jpg

To see with the narrowed down
single-minded concentration
of a child who has discovered art
in window condensation.

To forget the rest of the world
and become one single moment,
clear-eyed, one with reflection,
joyfully joined with beauty.

To look at a drawing
with imagination.
To read words and envision
a heretofore unseen universe.

To lose the concept of time,
moments stretch to days,
hours shrink to seconds,
then sails in a tub to dreamland.

To grow up to be a super-hero
pirate, fireman,  whatever can be
dreamed, be drawn, be seen
in rainy-day windows

Image prompt: Window Pictures by Barbara Fox
contest was for 15 words and obviously I did not do that – this was where the picture took me.

On Christmas Eve the bells did ring
Oh Holy Night rang through the streets
Joyous refrain the carolers sing
On Christmas Eve the bells did ring
Anticipating newborn king
Poor shepherds watched with angels sweet
On Christmas Eve the bells did ring
Time kept by snowy boot shod feet

All Poetry Contest entry – first attempt at a triolet. These were the requirements:
“A Triolet is a poetic form consisting of only 8 lines. Within a Triolet, the 1st, 4th, and 7th lines repeat, and the 2nd and 8th lines do as well. The rhyme scheme is simple: ABaAabAB, capital letters representing the repeated lines.

To make it more challenging, make each line 8 syllables in length (4 metrical feet), written in iambic tetrameter (the more common way).”

We focus on the season
the Christmas spirit
speeds from the sky
whooshes through streets
all around town

It lights on the hand of
the Salvation Army bell ringer
and causes the pause of
the shopper who digs for change
and shrugs and drops in a bill

It glows from the child who smiles
at the lights on the manger
in the downtown square
where the carolers sing Emmanuel
sparkling in eyes

It breathes and the smell of
cookies and pies drift past
the kitchen and down the hall
as a finger holds a ribbon that
becomes a bow

It wraps round the shoulders
of lonely old spouses to lift
grief for a moment and bring
memories of love and family
as the doorbell rings with a gift

It fans the heat from the sidewalk grate
and the homeless man stirs
as a cup of hot cocoa is handed
and a ride to the shelter is given
warm blanket for the night

It melts the snow on shoes in the hall
and rings with laughter and chatter
friends and relatives gather
and smile as children sneak
cookies and hugs

It ruffles the hair of the soldier
opening the package from home
carrying breath of a mother’s
prayer for safety and peace
pride mixed with fear baby boy

It joins in the candlelight service
as Silent Night fades and
folks tramp through the night
to homes remembering, laughing
dreaming, hoping.  For a better new year.