Ecape

The harsh pavement
beat against his feet,
trampled his heart,
until he sailed
away in a speedboat
that floated forlornly in the docks.
He stopped to anchor himself
only when he found the closest place
where he could live on
with Meredith.

Forgetting Nature

Remember those              lights in the sky?
		Street      lights.
No, stars gently            lit up the night?
	Yes, street         lights.
Sometimes one would         leave a streak.
            Probably an airplane.
And the mountain        in plain view-
      You mean that tall building?
No. You read about this in class.

If only you had seen it.

Eternal Life

I winced and shuddered
with each blade that went through me.
My juice remains fresh.

Come and enjoy me.
Speak with me what you have seen.
I will share my life.

A fleeting moment
is what they will all believe.
They can’t truly see.

I will enter you.
You will leave and carry on.
Memories live on.

Cut Flowers in Blue Bucket

Snatched from the field,
snatched from the soil,
crowded together
they comfort each other.
White and pink,
deep red and orange,
violet, purple, lavender,
they ask each passer by,
they beg and they plead,
“Pick me,
feed me,
enjoy my company
on these, my final days.”

What’s Outside Today

One cherry tree
under the bright blue sky
will never dance for you
or me.
Birds are singing
and an airplane flies by.
Fence is still broken
at least on one side.
Grass pricks,
pin scratching, pin poking,
crunching like the dead of winter snow.
Flowers are blooming.
Well, kind of, but not.
I planted them.
First time he ever let me.
At least, they are green,
the leaves I should say.
I’m not sure what they’re called
and I don’t know what they’ll look like,
but I planted them.
It’s like being pregnant.

There’s a tree growing in the window well.
I’ll have to take care of that,
maybe transplant it,
and the mosquito netting
that took a beating during the storms of the winter.

Air conditioner is loudly humming,
a reminder that I live in the city
with construction trucks beeping everywhere
trying to back up,
trying to fix roads,
trying to rearrange the highway,
trying to prepare for the train.

Air is warm.
That’s good.
It’s good to hang on to what’s good.

I have to hang on to what’s good.

An Odd Saturday Morning

The house is quiet.
Husband’s gone for groceries.
Daughters are checking apartments.
Son, well, it’s not noon yet; he’s fast asleep,

like the cat.

The air conditioner hums through the pipes
and rattles a piece of loose metal in the vents.

Is that a spider’s footstep I hear?

The house is quiet,

a little too quiet.

It’s a gentle reminder of what makes a home.

This is How it Begins

I am filled with a heart that beats to a broken beat
every time I am busy with something for me.
Yes, I change schedules and I am trying to keep
all informed, but it’s hard when it’s you I cannot see
whenever I have updates and news.

If only you could fill my wish and encourage me,
do as I do and give a little flexibility,
just the tiniest of help. I am in need
of understanding, not aggressive, guilt-ridden screams
whenever I need to remove the blues.

I’ve reorganized, adjusted to everyone’s needs
regardless of time of day or time of year.
The sun is bright, yet I am fighting back the tears
from having asked you too much it would seem.
I am old. I am tired. I am asking for one day of beautiful hues.

Witch’s Ignition

I sit at my desk
piercing blue ski, dancing trees
smooth rock in my hand

no words come to me
thoughts rush by, cannot be tamed
they climb on my feet

ink flows from my pen
forming shapes on the white page
my heart starts to heal

stir the incantation
alone with skies, thoughts, and ink,
bonding with like minds

excited to gain peace
savour the warm brew
words live forever

This is How it Begins

I am filled with a heart that beats to a broken beat
every time I am busy with something for me.
Yes, I change schedules and I am trying to keep
all informed, but it’s hard when it’s you I cannot see
whenever I have updates and news.

If only you could fill my wish and encourage me,
do as I do and give a little flexibility,
just the tiniest of help. I am in need
of understanding, not aggressive, guilt-ridden screams
whenever I need to remove the blues.

I’ve reorganized, adjusted to everyone’s needs
regardless of time of day or time of year.
The sun is bright, yet I am fighting back the tears
from having asked you too much it would seem to be.
I am old. I am tired. I am asking for one day of beautiful hues.

Hello 2019 Marathoners!

I am looking forward to my 3rd time of poetry marathoning! The first time I did a half. The last time I did the full. I could not fathom doing only a half this time.

My legs won’t tire from the run, but my fingers will and I know in the beginning I will feel short of breath (must remember to breathe when the words come out sideways). Adrenaline and the prompts will keep me going!  😁