Friday, June 24, 2011

6/24/11

6/24/11
Poetic Asides prompt

Leaving Kaylee

Strawberry cheeks, flushed from
exertion.
You'd been running around all
day,
chasing your cousins; I marveled at your
play.
Now, you cling to your mama, and I
wonder
how we will ever leave
you.
We hesitate, dragging our feet in the
dust.
The strawberry of your hair and
cheeks
staining out hearts and our
thoughts.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

6/9/11

6/19/11
Poetic Blomings never a cross word prompt
(use the words: shopping center, package, pyramid, fairy, pillow, cot, pocket, concierge, aluminum, rebel, heretic)

Black Friday

The shopping center is
cluttered and crammed with deals.
Each package more valuable than the next.
A TV pyramid just inside the door
and a fairy tale princess toy
entice shoppers to camp out
the night before.
Roughing the November wind
with little more than a pillow
and a folding cot.
With pockets bulging from spare ads,
the store attendant acts as concierge,
welcoming shoppers with his polite grin.
But once inside aluminum doors,
forget the polite etiquette.
Each shopper becomes a rebel
ready to barge in and liberate
the limited-time, limited-quantity
products from their cramped shelf prison.
But I nestle deep in my bed,
a dream floating through my head.
I'll be a Black Friday heretic instead.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

6/15/11

6/15/11
Poetic Asides Prompt a welcome poem

Welcoming Sleep

When the night seeps in, I
ease into my bedtime routine,
letting sleep settle:
calming, comforting, cleansing.
Opening possibilities and ponderings.
My thoughts frolic and play,
entwining fantasy with reality.

"Welcome," I say.



(Poetic Bloomings Sijo frame)

Summer vacation may entice one to education.
An experienced teacher knows these months of freedom are a myth.
Nothing but a plastic carrot dangling from an elusive stick.


Never have I, nor will I, love a purring, shedding nuisance.
But when fur clumps from dried blood and the lifeless form hugs the asphalt
I mourn the loss of someone's furry friend as if I had.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Monday, June 13, 2011

6/13/11

Unified as One

Erase the space.
Create a compound
word, coupled by
an invisible bond
holding together strong
until each word
no longer exists
alone, but has
become unified as one.


Biter

Lathaniel bites!
Not viscous, angry
skin-splitting
bites.
Not tantrum-induced
blood-spilling
bites.
Just playful, grazing
giggle-making
bites.
Clothes-snagging,
nibbling, baby
bites.
But,
Lathaniel bites!


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Sunday, June 12, 2011

6/12/11

6/12/11
(Poetic Bloomings prompt "playing favorites")

"Are you - Nobody - too?"

In a house full of children
the answer is always the same.
Nobody did it, saw it, or heard it
and this drives their parents insane.

"Are you - Nobody - too?" is a line from Emily Dickinson's wonderful poem "I'm Nobody! Who are You?"



"Trying to Read the Face of My Father"

A man of few words, I
began reading my father's face
when I teetered just knee-high.
Gauging the safety of
the environment by the
movements of his
deep brown eyes.


One of my favorite novels written in poems is The Way a Door Closes by Hope Anita Smith. The book is for middle grades. The line "trying to read the face of my father" is from the poem "Photo Op" found in this moving book.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

6/6/11

6/6/11
Unwanted Message

So much said
without a single
sound.
Just the words
plain
and powerful.
Context known
but not written,
not said.
Just a note
and now
a lump
in my
stomach.
The air
sucked from my
lungs.
The beat heavy,
disturbing my
brain.
And all I
am left with is
why?



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

6/5/11

6/5/11
(Refracted Hues prompt from Poetic Bloomings)

Eye Color Genetics

Brown, green, hazel, and blue.
Products of love
between brown and blue.


Rain Cloud

A cloud in the sky,
heavy and dense.
The earth lays below
waiting to be quenched.


Polka Dot Plant

Gray clouds hovered in my
eyes threatening to expose my
pain at any moment.

It was spring, but I saw no pastels.
Only the dull brown of depression
obscuring my view.

So people sent flowers. Red and orange
and lilac and white and dead. At least,
they ended up dead after a week.

A gesture to console, conjuring only
sorrow as each day another withered
petal fell, signaling a new death to mourn.

And then, a little yellow pot was placed in my
hands, full of sunshine and green leaves
speckled pink. Comforting and warm.

Hardy, even when ignored. A small drink
revived it's vibrant hues and it grew for me
until all the colors were here again.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

6/1/11

6/1/11

Love Carcass (original)

A hope, a wish, a kiss unpecked, words left
unsaid. They crack and sag and when we part
I wonder if we fell apart. Or did
we just forget to start? Rotted away,
decayed, the carcass left from beasts that prey.



(Poetic Asides prompt "let's get serious"

This poem was inspired by my daughter, Ashlyn, once doesn't want to grow up because adults lose their imagination. Don't worry, I told her she could always pretend no matter how old she became.

Is it Time?

When is it the exact right time
to leave your childhood behind?
Relinquish fluffy, threadbare friends,
box up imagination and pretend.
Read books with only white space and words,
black and white, uncolored worlds.
Jump over puddles, create no splash.
Stop wishing on a lost eyelash.
Read the news without a tear.
Blink and lose another year.
Between the lines, infer the worst.
Always stop to ponder first.
When is it the exact right time
to leave the best of you behind?



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

5/29/11

5/29/11
(Poetic Bloomings prompt #5)

Aging Gracefully

Cracking
Peeling away
Truth revealed
Beauty Remains


Rose Petals

"He loves me,
he love me not."
Two pink petals
resting on the aged,
cracked ground.
The truth exposed,
she thought.


Beauty Revealed

Years of enduring and
sacrifice etched into
flaking, cracked skin.

Pale pink cheeks
illuminating the joy
found within.


What Intrigues

Without the cracks,
if the layers weren't peeling away,
would she have stopped
to take a picture
of two pink petals that day?



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad