Storm Watching

lightening

jagged edges pierce the night.
bright shards of light break the darkness.
odorious, ozone currents of plazma blue the air.

thunder

drummers pounding on a million skins wake the silence.
deep rumbling shakes every soul.
broken is the sweet envelope of slumber.

rain

a single drop leads to a sunami of liquid sunshine.
steady downpours purge the earth.
the afterscent is a clean, fresh perfume.

Spring has Sprung

Catepillars are inching their way to transformation into gossamer-winged beauties. Buds peek from their winter graves enticed by bright beams and buzzing bees. Flittering are the squirrels racing hither and to. Gliding and jumping and gathering food.

Morning is filled with a cacophony of sound. Sit. Quietly listen to a plethora of bird song. Spoiled breath from the night is renewed by cool ribbons of air. Kissed by dew and cooled by the moon, it freshens the day. Sunlight streams in forming mirror images on the sheetrocked walls. A new day has begun. Spring has sprung.

Left of Center: Thursday Poets Rally 41

Angles a’jangle and elbows akimbo,
Eyes and limbs askew.
A hem hanging down and a tilt-a-wheel hat
defined all life that he knew.

Life was a cobblestone complete with a trip
On each and every third stone.
Storms with gale force winds was all he had every known.

The wind ripped his umbrella backwards.
Rain danced familiarly on his head.
Life was left of center
with elusive bits of brightness
that sparkled in the labyrinth of his head.

Faces

He wore the face of a jackal underneath his public face of sly.
Sly as a fox.
Smoooooooth as cream.
Words from a serpent with a two sided tongue.

She wore the face of an innocent, underneath her public face of perplex.
Perflexed by him.
Bothered by him.
Understanding words from his two slotted tongue.

Together they danced a dance,
Faces twisting and twirling in the wind.
Out of sync and with limbs disjointed,
Assemble, changement, plié,  relevé.

Lead was the jackal.
The next day lead was the jackal.
Lead was always the jackal.
No chance had the innocent except on the sly.

Finally the jackel wore thin and innocence looked away.
Looked away to a new face, an inward face. Her face.
Made new.
Now a bit smoother.
Now a bit sly.

Uniqueness

Ebony. Cocoa.
Cappuccino.
Ecru. Maize or Saffron Yellow?
Dazzle us with a hue
that uniquely belongs to you.

Wavy. Kinky.
Afro-napped.
Mane relaxed or braided back?
Parade your hair like a crown.
Never cast your eyes down.

Pixied. Scanty.
Skeletonly thin?
Mammoth? Unctuous?
Marred in skin?
Steep in virtuous health.
Sleep in heaven’s wealth.

Jeweled eyes brilliant and emphatical.
Enerringly. Calamitous.
Dive to the wisdom of old.
Dive via the gateways to the soul.

First Sight

the first sight of the first child
brings immeasurable joy.

a mothers’ love, fierce and one minded,
never waivers, never toys.

a precious girl, perfumed and sweet,
wearing the smile of angels,
reiterates what came before.
what every mother knows.

the first sight of the first child
brings immeasurable joy.

Pwoermd: NaPoWriMo 3

Make up a pwoerm. Using 2-3 words.

buffermentality:buffer, ferment, mentality

stinkspottery: stink, inkspot, pottery

sprummering: spring, summer

darkansaw: dark, arkansaw

singleemur: single, glee, lemur

muddermure: mud, udder, demure

searear: sea, are, area, rear

I will die at home, as I sleep, on a Friday.

NAPOWRIMO # 2 write a poem predicting your own death.

Peaceful  I will go.
I will die at home, as I sleep, on a Friday.
That is how I want to go.
Let me slip uneventful into the underworld.
Sprites and angels and heavenly bodies welcome me
with open arms and mellifluous voices.
Let me cross the dark abyss on a sailing ferry
complete with all my favorite niceties.
From escargot to wine and books….
From Paganini to shoes and lamb.
The risen lamb. The only lamb.
Salvation lamb.
Let me sail away with these things gambolling behind my eyes.
Let the smell of the sea be the last I draw in.
Let the waves gently rock me back and forth.
No fanfare needed.
No CSI. No NCIS. No “CLEAR.”
Just silence and a gentle release of my hand.
Peaceful is how I want to go.
I want to die at home, as I sleep, on a Friday.

Darkness Danced In

NAPOWRIMO DAY 1. A POEM USING TITLES FROM 3 BOOKS YOU HAVE ON YOUR BOOKSHELF.

Darkness danced in.
Trees washed in the wind.
The witch of Cologne languished,
engulfed in acts of unspeakble sin.

Centuries old and with teeth yellowed as cheese,
The secret, untold, festered.
Wild.
And Free, like weeds.

Down, down to a watery grave.
Condemned to the dark for the rest of her years,
She glided down.
Down into the deep.

Silent.

Silence eveloped her.
Silence embraced her.
Silence looked back at me, cold and ice blue.

I saw hollow eyes that yearned to sleep.
But.
It would take a thousand years to emerge from the pit.
A thousand years to get out of that pit.