They Will Tempt
Once a throbbing starts
in the sap of the quince pear,
the tree beside the milk barn
at one corner of the calf lot,
fruit grows from green
to brown, its brown thick
skin then waiting to burst.
Propelling through
the pears—a desire
to fall with ripeness.
Don’t bother twisting
their stems, plucking. Until
they fall of their own accord,
you’ll find their pithy flesh
absent of grainy goodness,
your jaws puckering
from pears’ revolt.
Melva Sue Priddy
Sonya you flummox me
You’re such a hoot
sarcastic and vulnerable
cute and astute
So full of feeling
yet thin as a reed
brimming with kindness
to water my need
To water begonias and wandering Jews
and African violets escaped from the zoos
You give of yourself without pattern or course
transfixing the meanness that hides in the gorse
You’re open with feelings of sadness and gladness
pert, lackadaisical, subject to madness
Your frankness refreshes as does your confusion
beheld in your eyes I am merely illusion
eleven am here
ten there we flirt
about the dream you had last night
my hand on your leg in a theatre
some shit I would pull
she says dreams are weird
fun and weird
and six months ago she started dreamin about me
I noticed
findin you a birthday present
didn’t matter then she was
sleepin next to someone else
I was sleepin alone back then
it was all about
bad omens
not anymore
A poem a day keeps the doctor away
No, wait – that’s wrong
A poem a day keeps the clouds away
Nope – that’s not right either
Writing a poem a day
is a hard thing to do
That indeed, is very true…
~
Every time I go outside
A blackbird yells at me
Never did a thing to him
He should leave me be
I water all the birdies
And keep the cats at bay
The blackbird should be thankful
That he’s alive today
Instead, he brings his buddies
And they flock around the bath
Keeping others far away
Inspiring birdie wrath
The aftermath is dreadful
Not a pretty sight to see
Feathers laying all about
In colors A to Z
I just made that last part up
The birds don’t really fight
Instead, they drink and bathe and chat
And then return to flight.
Neighbor dog, usually chained, ran across
My yard today. He didn’t linger, did only
Sniff and prance away, perhaps the cats?
More likely his new found freedom
Too precious to rest and search to find
Buried bones, or a neighbor’s pat.
Given a broken leash, I, too, would hope
To cover new ground in a flash, stretch
Bound limbs and sinew. Search wild
Tempting worlds left unexplored.
Yellow dog when you come back,
Will you show me the way to relish
A journey out with no thought of return?
This is the market square where the students and soldiers met yesterday, this space bordered on all sides by towering concrete broken by windows and balconies, holes and scars left low on the walls by gunfire. Tomorrow, it will be covered with stalls and tables and carts, all laden and filled with good things bright and beautiful, promising to fill the lives of browsers and touchers and buyers. Today we clean and primp in preparation for the pretense that all is well, setting pots of flowers upright in doorways, sweeping the chipped concrete into hungry shovels, casting dark shadows in the morning sun while scrubbing on our knees at the stubborn blood that surrounds the silhouettes of those who fell here.
I don’t want this night to end
I’m tempted to crack open another bottle
To keep the high going
But it would only result in a headache
Better to appreciate the peak when
It happened
The rare moment of knowing
You’re exactly where you need to be
With those you need to be with
All that to say…
I don’t know if I can be with you
Is it a vacation from myself
As George would say
Or am I taking a vacation
From what I think I should be?
…I think I need that drink after all
i.
Gamblebold like my brother,
I’ve entered The House of Cards.
Seated bittersuite in the suit of hearts,
Flushfaced and royal,
I show my hand.
ii.
Without dishonesty or pretense,
Admitting to the flourish.
I’m a victim to cherubs.
Burdened with that red suit.
iii.
I’m beginning to understand the structure of this place;
Less fragile faith than elagant suspension.
Crimsonstained, I’ve found a monarch similar,
Yet unique in her architecture.
A kingdom built out of bicycle cards,
Neatly arranged in quarters.
they really turned up the flames
first time i hear a barn owl, and does
he have a lot to say!
he talks so long, i have time to use an
app which speaks its language.
syllable for syllable, the forest owl matches
what my phone plays which is swiftly
diminished by the sweet, sardonic notes
of my beloved, wry white-crowned
sparrow- really turns up the flames!
was it even possible? had one made its
way to Cleveland, early as this?
perhaps i was a little susceptible.
i packed up my concerns, satisfied
we were inseparable, even if they
turned you into ashes today.
