nature flickered

while the lights of the house flickered in the distance,

the grey clouds above struggled to offer a downpour.

i strolled the grounds waiting for your return

but you would not come-

not now, not ever.

*       *       *

spring came and the flowers attacked the hills

while the wind whipped its way through the painted sky,

i sat under the great oak, reading my books and writing my poems

until a terrible cough of wind, blew some of my thoughts away.

with nature’s indiscreet gesture, i am left with the chill of who you were.

 

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O’ Muse!

recently i began writing and sending out poems for possible publication. this sounds easy but when you’re job hunting at the same time, the brain is tired by the time you want to put to paper a lot of your musings. i tend to write more- and better, when i am frustrated, etc. while this is productive, it is not always best for my ch’i. to remedy this, i have taken to writing when not in an angst-ridden mood, and writing when i am somewhat content. i write half-mocking, half- loving my inner most feelings. so far it has produced a poem that bashes my efforts to write and be a poet. when i write i tend to not think of myself as the next Shakespeare or Ginsberg but as a broad with something to say- for me & maybe if it tickles the fancy of others, so be it…

still, my words would like a playground to strut their stuff on so if anyone knows of any places that may like some of my musings (see poems within my wordpress page), do let me know. thanks!

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opera-related poems?

so it will be fall/winter and though texas doesn’t have what i would call- proper seasons, i still would like to try on another writing project. last fall i completed a halloween project; in october i wrote a creepy poem for each day.

this year i thought i may visit some of the operas i like and/or will go to, and write a poem for that opera. not sure how my future writings will be inspired by the opera- whether i will write about the characters or just go with whatever i am feeling at the time. if anyone has any suggestions, i am welcome to them. just stay tuned. poems should begin to surface soon…

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a pair of eyes

she walked through a jungle of haunting memories and once happy occasions

she felt a pair of eyes on her; they had been there most of her life

she ran through rains of methane fears and abandoned years

trapped, the eyes greedily devoured her as she trembled on the edge of the cliff

her remains became food for foes- human ants that sting and bite

and carry her mangled meaty bits 

through the jungle’s past present and future

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so i should do what now?

i have already watched a bit of tv and read from two books- Sinatra biography & book on Symbols, etc. now i’m not sure what to do… it sounds silly i am sure but i’m not awake enough to continue reading but i’m not sleepy enough to attempt sleep. i suppose that explains what i am doing online blogging, but then i don’t even know what to blog about exactly! grrr.

perhaps i will try a poem?!

 

i tripped on the milky way

and fell into my cosmic center

i wiped star dust from my knees 

and looked up, into cloudy arms of the galaxy

i coughed up signs of life

and saw myself beat the speed of light

comets came my way

but my supernova kept them at bay

i became a telescope

for crag-like dreams

and airy hope.

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frozen face

Plastic ivory shields her from others
Fake paint mirrors her self esteem
Disposable material reflects her murky insides
Dark hair cradles her frozen face
Silky curls rest upon a rotten pedestal
Her clothes shield an aging body

Halloween

Grey paint highlights her cheekbones, her gloom
Black and dark blue surround red eyes of doom
Swollen crimson lips hide a surprise
She goes out, knife in hand
Steady breaths, relief
She no longer pretends

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no pawns allowed

the Red Queen

moves up and out 

back down, and in again.

she paces about her quarters

amongst subjects and kin;

on a whim she writes-

her thoughts stumble out in calm poetry or prose.

despite her travels and meandering mind,

by his side is her duty,

joy and bind.

the Red Queen

moves up and out 

back down, and in again.

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Pelted

The little boy played in his Darth Vader costume.
He chugged up the stairs and down.
He played in the house, and on the garden grounds.
One day his nanny left him alone,
she went to the pool house with her man to be alone.

Little Darth Vader chugged up the stairs
but tripped on his cape and tumbled down.
His body was beaten by each step ‘til it hit the ground.
His limp body with head turned around;
three hours later it’s what the nanny found.
The nanny felt guilty; her brain was pelted,
with the image of the Darth Vader mask and
eyes of dull blue, dim and hemorrhaged.

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She Walks

The woman in white walks in and out of the patches of graves.
She looks for the children that might be there.
Though she met with a bloody end from an affair,
She hopes to make good by helping those more than fair.
Sometimes you see her in her white gown,
Cradling dead babies and hugging kids that come around.
If you see her, leave a thoughtful gift,
or else you’ll see her temperament begin to shift.

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Heavy Basket

I saw the old man with a heavy basket.
His grey hair and sunken wrinkles hugged his cloudy blue eyes.

I saw the old man with a heavy basket.
His pale plaid shirt hugged his gaunt frame; he hoped to come alive again.

I saw the old man with a heavy basket.
He walked amongst the trees and the old road- a sentence with no end.

I saw the old man with a heavy basket.
He once showed me the inside of the heavy basket.

I saw the old man with a heavy basket.
He had three heads, dead and decayed- heads without a body in a casket.

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