February 2013

February 27, 2013

The Color of Taffy

Google Image

she sees her lying in a
field of wildflowers
adrift in sweet williams,
asters and pinks
cradled in queen anne’s lace

her hair once the color
of taffy now streaked
gold by the sun
her freckles blending
into honey on her face

she closes her eyes to
drift along with her
feeling the breeze a
silk scarf unfurled
ever so soft as satin

until she hears as
from a distance far
a soft whistle blowing
faintly she nearly feels
an approaching train

but as she opens her
eyes the girl with the
taffy colored hair and
honeyed skin slips
away leaving her

in a small cold room
the whistle from the
tea kettle blowing
louder…steam rising
in the still dank air

she is brought ’round
her eyes glance about at
paint cracked walls to
a chipped tile counter
a clock chiming the hour

as she blinks back hot
salty tears to pull her
ragged sweater about her
she touches a dirty vase
holding a bit of wildflowers

This is for dVerse Poets Pub http://dversepoets.com/category/openlinknight/

February 24, 2013

Sirens

hair black obsidian
like crow’s feathers
nesting about her head

she waits looking out
at waves crestfallen
anatomy grey perilously

close and remembers
the day he left to
go fishing for sirens

This is for dVerse Poets Pub at http://dversepoets.com/artistic-description/

February 23, 2013

Beating Quietly

Altered Google Image

the end of a week and
i don’t even mind
the rail when
riding means
a tide of
giggling teenagers

so…who cares
not i….i think as
my one brain cell
slides dismally
around in the
vacant space…
(did i say that)
between my ears

wind blows and rain
hits & then runs
down the glass of
the rail windows
but i don’t
notice

as businesses stream
by because i
just want to get
home and feel nothing
but relief but
when it comes

i think of you &
our phone calls
the phone
silent now these
past five years

when idle chit-chat
meant a kind of
reprieve, relax…ing
into now so i could
hold ON to you

only a telephone cord
away & now…even a
telephone cannot
bring you close with
your voice so
like mine as if

i practiced daily to
play it back from
a treasured tape
but instead of
waiting for the
phone to ring

i close my eyes
hold my hand
atop my chest &
feel you there
beating quietly
inside me and
i am home

February 22, 2013

Thirteen

Digital Drawing 2013 Renee Espriu

smokin’ cigarettes
back of the deli
her father owned

bet he never knew
she took them…
neither did my mom
know i smoked

i had an angel
on my shoulder
at thirteen

Hope I haven’t offended the Graffiti artists of the world as really, I normally, do not do this type of art but had fun with it in any case.

This is for dVerse Poets Pub at http://dversepoets.com/street-culture/

February 18, 2013

Mr Kenny “G”

i don’t remember the year
but do remember the place
where mr kenney ‘g’ played
his saxophone to me

at the state fair i sat
in the bleachers all alone
as he entered to the right
of main stage in sight

i watched the crowds
surround him as he slowly
walked toward the back of
front aisle seats clad

in skinny jeans and shirt
curly hair about his head Goggle Image
as alto sax notes poured Kenny “G”
each melody easily scored

he reached where i was
mesmerized listening rapt
to stand and look up at me
playing to where i sat

it seemed forever he played
before he finally moved on
the day mr kenny ‘g’ graced
my life in alto song

This is for dVerse Poets Pub at at http://dversepoets.com/sense-of-place/

It was a surpise to go and see Kenny “G” that year, as my husband (when I was married) bought the tickets without my knowing, and for this wonderfully gifted artist and musician to stop in front of those bleachers and look up to me and continue to play…well, that was a once in a lifetime thing and will never happen again.

February 15, 2013

Your Vanilla

Altered Google Image

shower cascades down as
steam rises it brings
a delicious moment
and i inhale the
fragrance of
vanilla

it carries me along
as the breeze does
a flight of fancy
eyes closed
i lean toward
a revery

i breathe in the scent
of candles of
fresh vanilla sent
to me of you
and your
memory

found in a distant past
to the smell of
baking in your
kitchen with
warm cookies
but alas

i realize you are gone
but you are here
and really never
far as i inhale
always your
vanilla

This is for dVerse Poets Pub at at http://dversepoets.com/the-craft-of-poetry/

February 13, 2013

Remnants Loved

Altered Google Image

we might walk along
the ocean shore
to collect driftwood
a carnage
i implore
washed here from
other distant lands

or linger as i do now
in your embrace
listening to words
that will leave
no sign or trace
we have been here as
the wind and sea
carry footprints

away so effortlessly
but tell me only
of your
passion filled heart
and do not share
that which you
should not impart
of secrets once shared

with another heart true
who you left for a time
so that you
could walk with me
here to collect driftwood
washed smooth and clean
remnants loved and
left by the sea

This is for dVerse Poets Pub http://dversepoets.com/category/openlinknight/

February 10, 2013February 10, 2013

Peas in a Pod

Altered Google Image

‘two peas in a pod’…have you
heard the expression
i would stand my ground
through every dimension

there was fury and anger
in every move she made
i felt it growing up
a fiery onslaught cascade

as year flew by faster
sending us forth and beyond
her health ever failed her
took me years to catch on

that holding onto bitterness
tasted like acid filled song
to forgive and let go
an aching that i longed for

within a prison i had made
nothing ever etched in stone
time gave clarity to us both
together close and not alone

i gave her all i could amend
calling her daily even when
her hours had waned and
angels called her to them

‘two peas in a pod’…have you
heard the expression
she visits in my dreams
through every dimension

This is for dVerse Poets Pub at at http://dversepoets.com/the-Art-of-letting-go/

My mother and I struggled to get along and even after I married and had a family we simply could not agree on many things. But after all was said and done, we were really so much alike in so much of who we were, that in her final years we became so close, it was difficult when she died. Five years later and I long for the phone to ring, or for me to dial her up and her hear voice.

February 8, 2013February 8, 2013

Running Away

Google Image

she stood very still
behind the building
breathing steadily with
her heart pounding
loud inside her ears
and she waited

she didn’t like school
no one noticed her as
she simply walked to
the end of the hallway
so she could get away
and she ran

she kept running until
she was here just past
the last classrooms
the playground where
the big kids played
and she stopped

what to do, where to go
would they look for her
she was in trouble
hours now it must be
but no one came to see
and she was alone

she decided to go back
back across the empty
asphalt playground
back to the building
classroom and back
down the hallway

just as she arrived
tired and scared
the teacher was calling
all the kids in as
though she never left
and was always there

When you are five years old and decide to make your escape from Kindergarten the world becomes a very big place. To this day I’m not sure they knew I had gone.

This is for dVerse Poets Pub at at http://dversepoets.com/tag/memory/

February 6, 2013February 6, 2013

Star Studded Wonder

walking steadily beneath
a blanket of star-studded
wonder brings to mind
only the beauty of a night
uninhibited, humbled
by a universe existing
of endless possibilities

whilst i step cautiously
on cracked pavement
over broken glass bottles
a remnant of someone..
someone else’s need to see
past the ugliness and
angry when they cannot

i see stark contrasting
opposites and what if…
as a million twinkling
lights fall upon all the
shadowed figures hiding
in alleys without doors
amongst filthy dumpsters

i feel undeserving of
my wanderlust for nature
as i breathe in the cold,
sharp night air i know
i am fortunate to still
have dreams this night
instead of dreamless sleep