Posts for June 30, 2024 (page 11)

Category
Poem

Stranger

All the cool couples
are playing pickleball
on blue courts
the color of exotic seas
while we grow fat
on doughnuts from
the neighborhood bakery.

Suppose we had the gumption
to try on new lives,
would you love your new husband,
would I my new wife?

Isn’t that the rub of forever vows,
no one should change too much, too fast,
out-pacing the comfortable now?

But the dullard in overalls boasts —

My wife is the same exact girl
as when I married her

as if she were a marble-eyed baby doll 
trunked in the dank crawlspace
of forever.


Registration photo of Coleman Davis for the LexPoMo 2024 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

Mushy Mushy

                                             for Linda Bryant Davis

 
You are, without a doubt,
the kindest person I have ever met.
 
We come from different islands, different
families, different ways.
 
Your smile is my north star, my guidance.
There is nothing left but you, when I balance
 
the scales of sweet holy justice.
Your name translates as beauty
 
from the small piece of you;
your complete soul inside,
 
to the all encompassing soul of you 
which you embody as a perfect fractal.
 
You are eternal and whole,
need nothing more. All I ask is,
 
will you let me accompany you 
as you wander?

Registration photo of River Alsalihi for the LexPoMo 2024 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

mos ki frike

i fight with my mother. i throw myself into the water.
it’s frigid. it makes goosebumps all over me.
there’s no one in the water for a mile. this frightens me.
the black nun fish roam beneath me with no flicker of reflection or dart. they soothe me.
so do the swallows on my legs. everyone seems surprised that i gave them names.
i could be famous for my ability to pretend. i could name an emigrating cloud
and feel friends with it forever. i understand that no one is in the water
because it is cold. i don’t care that it’s cold.
the wind wrinkles the waves and freeze burns my scalp.
it makes it difficult to see the dark fish angels and anything else.
i tell myself i am not afraid. there is nothing here that could hurt me more.
nothing that could hurt me more.
i move like an inhuman in the water. it feels good.
i spin myself against the soft resistance.
i lay down in the surface and try to gouge the cry out. i give up.
i swim to the other side where they speak a different language
and hate their fathers. i don’t spend the night.
i don’t want to talk to her ever again. i swim back to the shore where she sits.
i always end up feeling so adolescent.

Registration photo of PBSartist for the LexPoMo 2024 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

tyranny of completion

disillusionment would have one believe  the finish line is the goal
narrow  this mind  unduly constrained within this fable
fantasy dissolves like the casing of a pupa 
emerging from this restriction reveals new layers of will  determine toward this more
or wash
away  the tyrants  the tellers of titles and tales  guides of no one
the same fait awaiting us all  perhaps then complete
is not a very good aim after all
go for attentive

each stroke of life breathed upon the clock of this world 
can find a life we discover we are living
not just alive
unfold your layers  so that even when there appear no more
fresh discovery  another emergence


Registration photo of dustin cecil for the LexPoMo 2024 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

untitled

the evaporative battle-
             liquid to gas
          without a sound

ants with their eyeballs
bugs with their wings
           settle all around

they know this wet
from both sides of the cycle
they have no word for rain

             to them wet is wet-
             water all the same.


Category
Poem

in spite of self

A small victory.

Overcame anxiety

And had a great time


Registration photo of H.A. for the LexPoMo 2024 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

Perennial II

 
“May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring
 
 
 
 
rain has returned to the foothills of the Catskill Mountains
 
the skies weep for the end:
the end of June
the end of this metaphysical moment
 
 
together in written form–
beautiful;
call and response 
“you?”
“me?”
“us?”
                       we.
 
 
thirty–
 
thirty days
(almost) thirty nights—
thirty nights if you count the 31st before June 1st
 
delivered more than an empathetic heart (that mirrors another)
 can hold;
 
storms brewing
clouds drifting
waves breaking
 
 
 
moon(s) rising
Milky Way swirling
earth spinning
soul stirring
 
 
                      euphoria.
 
 
it’s a wish granted in time that the gods have provided
–one would say the timing is too late,
and another would say, it’s happening now and in real time, as it should–
 
how could the wish-maker know then:
written on composition notebook paper
after a devastating heartache
placed in a wooden box with sunflower carvings
gifted from a friend who blessed it with incantations from an ancient ritual–
 
 
 
is happening in real time:
decades later, without warning
reigniting embers from a dim burn to a full, magnificent inferno
setting ablaze primal instincts
passion, and raw desire,
to melt the icy refrain long echoed along Saturn’s spinning rings
 
 
 
and the one who wished could not believe this truth
but it is not up to truth to decide its might; 
in wicker chairs
in throaty voices
in perennial permissions
in wistful whispers
on printed pages curling in the breeze
on lectern spine pressing tome spine
in envious waves crashing against the shore
in photos that do not yet exist becoming exposed out of frame,
it simply exists, as we do
 
 
                          now
 
in this finite eternity–
the time is (de) constructed
the time that constrains
the time that is a curse and a treasure
 
like poems that etch themselves beneath skin
and become the balm for aching bones
to rest in summer’s light,
to bury itself beneath autumn’s crisp colors,
to sleep soundly in winter’s snowy cover,
to rejuvenate in spring’s warmth knowing
that truths: 
in belief
in hope
in desire
in all that is what it means to exist here, 
 
 
                            now
 
 
will transcend time
and keep hurricane lanterns flickering in the darkness
for those kindred spirits sailing
in ghost ships, in seas forgotten,
to look to and to know
 
belief
hope
desire
existence here that is real–
 
 
 
                      always. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Registration photo of Hunter Nelson for the LexPoMo 2024 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

3 AM

You tell me to sleep 
but I always rest easy
when we breathe in sync.


Registration photo of Kim Kayne Shaver for the LexPoMo 2024 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

very teeny tiny snail snoring haiku

today a surprise–
          a tiny yellow snail shell
                    in the zinnia bed


Registration photo of Manny Grimaldi for the LexPoMo 2024 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

Ganesha

Boris hates me—
the way he vacuums at 3am,
the way he thunders floor
and hammers above my head,
this my brain turns over
on the afternoon train,
and it is false to say
I am innocent it wasn’t me,
the music was loud all day.

On the day these gods first met,
Lord Shiva fought his newfound son—
two adding violence enough
to part the locks of a jungle.
The boy was defeated, his head lost
in the bargain, and Shiva’s shakti
restored him with the guise
of a wise, old, lumbering elephant
on the child’s body.  And at

six foot ten Boris was a Bosnian man
never spoke words until he’d lived here
one year and said,
“What is the easiest way to Starbucks?”
We thought he was a mute.
Thus, he lunged off, swinging his arms
across the traffic in the rain
like a short-eared South Asian mammoth,
clearing a path through the trucks, determined.