Posts for June 11, 2018 (page 2)

With a steam
powered heart, I waited
for another
of your late
arrivals and pretended to know
better than to fix you

but I can

never help myself, detached and in love, holding

space and bartering
for more coal because maybe
you were going
to be the last lover.

Or the last
who needed me
to believe.

Believe
I caught
every hum and crackle
of energy you ever gave.

Take
what you need–
There is
steam enough
to power at least
one of us forward.

Return if you find
more
time to burn.

I can

never run out of matches.

I will continue
from here.

I see the dawn of something new,

As a rose stretching into bloom.

You words are filled with strength,

Stemming from a compassionate heart.

I see the man you are becoming,

Loyal, steadfast, a safe place.

But I want more—

I long to be your safe haven,

Your island of rest.

Will you see in me a counterpart? 

It is essential for you to stand alone,

Then be fortified in the unity.

To hold my hand,

For better, for worse. 

Where we two,

                   become one.

By the grace of God, I exist. 
By divine love, I perceive him. 

Without the fortitude of mercy, 
I would and could not understand him. 

Only Because of his love and mercy,
Can I possess the doubts

Of his love and mercy.

Glass is a concept mostly lost in the animal world
unlike almost everything you can see through it,
so I can’t blame you for your endless,
if futile, efforts inside my apartment window.
In fact, I sympathized with you
knowing so well what it’s like
staring a deepest desire in the face
but only able to get so close.
I also pitied you
because there were only so few ways
our chance meeting could end.
Your pain
tied to the window pane,
we would leave each other alone
until you we’re too tired to keep not going on
and you laid yourself to rest.
If we could communicate,
a whistle and a pointed finger
would show you the open door.
If you weren’t so confident in yourself,
so angry or afraid,
I could take you in my hand
and bring you to safety.
However, as it was and may always be,
we are nothing that can benefit the other.
I felt guilty for the strike.
Perhaps I could have tried something else,
at least made some effort at a solution
but I could find no other way
than this cruel philosophy.
Some things just aren’t meant to be saved.

If you kept a list of worries, I fear
it would be so long nothing
could contain it, you’d have to stuff
it under the bed and probably
it would come alive and strangle us
in the night. 

Likely? no…but possible. 

Forward motion turns
a forever falling hour
into hands of time

The rusting iron chain
of oblivions shackle
flake with salt of life

Arduous acts warp
in degradations embrace
futile existence

Conceptual dance
erratic shadows greet death
equilibrium 

Reach out your hand and hold onto the moment.
It will leave you behind if you don’t pick up your courage you left at the door.
Let go of inhibition and free yourself from the cage you put around your soul.
Say yes to more things that make you laugh, it’s ok to enjoy life.
Jump on the back of the shopping cart, swing around on the light pole, play gotcha last.
Bring out your inner child, you might encourage someone else to play.
So what if you’re an adult, you are but an embryo in the universe.

If the corpse’s voice

sounds randomly familiar,

ask for another 

story. 

Melva Sue Priddy

My first day at work
we were on the playground.
Julie came up to me.
“Ms. Madison can I tell you something?”
I nodded.
“That tree looks so happy.”
“What part is the happiest?”
“The way she holds herself.”
I laughed, agreed.
She ran off to swing on the monkey bars.
I stood a little taller.
“Mrs Madison can i tell you something.”
I nodded.
“Yes Julie.”
“I have something.”
I furrowed my brow.
“An accident.. I have one.. in my pants.”
I asked if she had extra clothes to go change.
“Yes but I want to play a little longer.”
I watch her chase all the kids
on the playground with her accident.. in her pants.
I laughed, a little to hard.
It all felt so foreign and still too relatable.
Running around chasing others as if we aren’t all pretending we haven’t made mistakes.
We lined up.
She changed.
Pee pants Julie comes
from the bathroom
with her arm outstretched.
A gift for me…
her peed covered Dora underwear.
I told her to hold them.
The other kids laughed.
She waved them like a flag
Surrendering to this all too human existence
that is more accident than not.
And only sometimes in your pants.

knife edge through blubber
murder of crows above
blood and obsidian

song of the hunter’s time
patient above a hole
long will the story speak
children and wives for ears.

White ache the trick of day
White glare on blue and grey
White shadow, powdered path
Blue white the trick of night

still, in the waiting squat.
sun and moon rise as one
new breath of yesterday
gathers around his form.

pressure of water flow
seen on the silver thread
black eyes and purple nose
meet the harpoon as red.

Praise of the air I breathe.
Praise of the storm to come.
Praise of the measured strike.
That which he kills he loves.

knife edge through blubber
murder of crows in space
blood and obsidian
spilled in an ancient place