puddle reflection
sticking to me
like your wet, wet blues
rainstorms and sunny days
i start to live through you
coming around again
your curious faking smile
blue skies of thunder
you linger for a long while
sticking to me
like your wet, wet blues
rainstorms and sunny days
i start to live through you
coming around again
your curious faking smile
blue skies of thunder
you linger for a long while
*This is kind of collaborative. I asked friends on Facebook to give me one or more of the following, and I would work them into a poem:
1. Their favorite word or phrase;
2. A name (fictional or real);
3. An object from a different era or world.
Here is the poem I wrote using their answers:
Dewey Dell brought a spinning wheel to the town meeting,
But Niddy Noddy brought an attitude of spite:
“I may indeed be a curmudgeon about eating,
But Emily’s a creature of the night!”
The whole crowd gasped, even old Top Hat,
Who’d been curled and asleep by the rocker.
But Art Vandelay, in town to watch the spat,
Said the thing that was the real shocker
Was how Miette Marcelle, the petite town conscience
Had added up all their dark woes,
And declared the whole matter a tempest of nonsense,
Like an octopus counting its toes.
Then from the shadows, old Beatrice crept out
And laughed the stark laugh of the damned.
“In the bowels of bleak time I’ve lain and I’ve leapt out
At folks on the make and the lam.”
“Oh wise crone!” someone bellowed, voice shaking and quaking,
“Have empathy for your future self!
For whether you’re sleeping or whether you’re waking,
Your head belongs on a shelf!”
The air was as thick as onomatopoeia
Or a plushie made of old riboflavin.
For no one there had ever quite seen a
Flying elephant that was even worth saving.
But this was irrelevant, as every Nacarian knew,
For not all of the elephants were flying.
And this fair day all draped in bright blue,
Yesterday shall have been dying.
If you ever decide to age,
My love,
Invite me,
I’ll retire my bones
To lie with you
And read you poetry.
I know how to tell
If she’s had a bad day
And she comes to me
When she feels lonely.
For the nights when I can’t
Wake you up,
I’ll build a fort
On the floor
In the living room.
My body was made
For you to sleep next to,
You make me want
To hold you forever
And fight
For you
And me
And us.
barefoot on the kitchen linoleum,
we’d gobble up the summer fruit
watermelon juice dripping down our chins,
pappaw’d slice up more pieces
we laugh about these memories now,
wondering how we used to be so happy
I’ve never forgotten,
Clawing at my cheek
Scabs curl under my torn nails
Heal again, better
Training my body
With every wound reopened
To repair itself
Partly surgical
Partly frantic and desperate
Dig below the pain
Every physical
Flaw can be redone, regrown
It won’t hurt this time
I’m all about that
Carpe Diem,
but as they say,
“to everything
its season”,
some days I
find it best
to go easy
into seizing.
