Posts for June 2, 2021 (page 13)

Wintry precipitation – A storm warning is issued –
Freezing rain –  dropping temperatures
Dripping water forming ice around cold surfaces
      Solid and clear – transparent
Every limb, branch, twig and bud is surrounded
      Encased in ICE –
             The beauty within is adorned with
             crystalline icicles that sparkle
             when lit by street lights and sunlight
      Behold the beauty of this winter wonderland!
             Beautiful – but oh, the weight of the beauty is great.        
      Small branches bearing the weight display their
             tapered crystal pendants
      But there is a cost to this frigid beauty 
             when the weight of accumulating ice
                   becomes a burden
      Limbs and branches begin to 
                   Snap  –  break   –    fall
                      landing with a resounding THUD!

Other Limbs bend low, bowing under the weight
         until the burden is too great
       The bending and bowing is not enough
The tree is UPROOTED
          it’s foundation is pulled up and
   the extracted root system is EXPOSED for all to see

The sight of the encased branches, and uprooted trees 
      caused me to  ponder  how people, like trees, 
      can withstand a wintry storm,  and often bend and bow 
      under the weight of icy and unkind words. 
 Some continue to shine, some snap and break,  
      while others become frozen and encased by frigid words.
 How can the burden of icy words melt away 
       so that the beauty within can again shine through?

  What about the icy words of the offender 
        whose words are intentionally used 
        to intimidate, offend or belittle others?
   Do they not accumulate around the one speaking 
        until the frigid weight of the words and 
        transparency expose the offender?    
    
Once uprooted and exposed
        the icy words used to encase and burden
                           can melt away 
       and form beautiful crystal pendants 
                   that shimmer in the light.

there’s an email unsent
sits on my screen
Proofread from here to Sunday

it says i hate you
but i dont
i’ve moved on
but my hurt hasn’t

it sits in my chest and screams
dislocates my ribs
a swolled devil baby
pounds to be heard

i’m happy now
but the hurt you created
feels like rules carved into stone
done by my own hand
on the order of a false idol

My fuckin’ feet hurt. 
And I’d like to snarl my lip in contempt 
and swear it ain’t bothering me
that bad. 
I’d like to promise up and down
there ain’t nothing poetic about pain, 
but I’d be lying.

My raw nerves shoot sharp verse

right up my spine. 
My fuckin’ feet hurt

but that resilient knot growing,
tangling roots deep in my foundations 
wrapping around those itty bitty bones
like kudzu…
it’s beautiful ain’t it?
Metatarsal metaphor. 
I couldn’t tell you what it means
but the bulging blue veins
are throbbing bright blue blood
and I trace the tender to touch trickles 
’bout to burst through my pale skin
with careless fingers
and convince myself that hurt 
was earned. 

this is yes
petal paws satiny padding
your lips
beneath at the collar
and i am watching
there goes comportment and composure
i am a piece of paper and all the writing
erased
you rub and nuzzle cat
and moisture there
it is
off goes the cannon
the cannon goes pop
the words stop at my teeth
i eat melody in their stead
i am breakfast, at breakfast
yes
no 
you have me 
there is nowhere-to-go
but further on up the ridge
this water is obscure luxury
yours, love light to the skin
asking more of me
and drowning is the thing
all i care for
all these hairs are porcupine
fretting your song on the air
as my lips go numb
i am awash with a myriad
named for you

Spring

And in the crevice that came

From the split in the broken heart

A green shoot

It sprang forth with a cry

And bloomed with every inch

Of brightness the sun showered down

The darkness had descended

The last of the growth had died

Hope had kept strong until finally lost

But in the flap of a wren’s wing, the frost receded

Spring fought its silent battle

And conquered the season of night

i finally tore
up her

tableau

quartered
the drawing

and flicked
my bic into

the four corners of the world
that had framed her so long

stuck in a clearing

with foxes closing
in or were they

conspiring to help
with their circling?

that is the question 
of terror.

that is the why
of the how

i burned her so
she could take 

that step into 
the moonlight

knowing she can 
never be harmed 

for she 
has become

fox
woods
circle.

May is made feeble by
the smiling cruelty of a spring cold snap,
its bright days of pallid light now glowing vein blue,
its petals crinkling closed and trembling in the sharpened breeze
        like eyelids over feverish sleep,
its deep grasses with the lush chill of night sweats.
Tender life holds itself tightly
as the sickness settles in for another night.    

COLLAGE  

The artist creates
with disparate images, textures
 words, symbols, paint
in abstract expression
of thoughts, ideas, emotions
for all to see.  

The image of you
for all to see, collage of
secrets, sorrows,
memories, dreams,
passion, courage,
failures and wins.

Your artful soul
the collage of you.

-Sue Neufarth Howard

you are dry grass 
i am lightning  
a tungsten aroma rises
from the place we met

I stared at her pale neck with the purple bruise,
bite shaped.  I wondered at her boldness,
not caring that all of us could see.  

Bleached blond sitting in home room, defiant,
daring anyone to ask how’d she come to get that.
Assigned home room by our last names, a clue.  

Could I find her in the yearbook? I can’t remember
her name but want to find her, so she won’t be nobody
any more,  not just the girl with the purple bite.