Waves push past tentacles
Quivering in clear blue
Waves thick with life.
Circular flow
Down
Up
Undulating gazpacho
De mer la vive.
Silence not silent.
Not silent.
Loud clattering
Pushing
Bumping
City of ancient life
In a silent sea.
Joy Miller
earth2joy
Hi, I'm Joy Miller. I'm an actress, singer, songwriter, computer geek who got into poetry back in 1974 for intramural competitions. Poetry interpretation is at the core of my acting technique. Nothing like it! The condensed soup of all literature. I have two grown children - one in New York City, the other in Austin, TX. Looking forward to the marathon! DISCLAIMER: Everything I write is imaginary, though some of it may seem very real. Yes, be it known that I am as F.O.S. as many of my inspirations.
Saturday, the Sixth
The night fades in
From the day
Slept away.
Head pounding.
Stomach as full as the kitchen sink.
Whispers of him on the screen
Who kissed my lips at the promenade
Long since gone.
Good Sunday Morning!
I both love and hate Sunday mornings.
Tomorrow, it’s back to work. Back to the
Computer and
If then
For each
Next x.
End sub. Sigh…
I both love and hate my work.
Yesterday was Saturday,
And I’m old now,
So, I slept.
Drank first.
Two stiff gin and tonics.
Ate first. Pasta.
Lots of PASTA.
All because my head felt funny all morning.
Not my usual crunchy fare.
I both love and hate my body.
I feel better today.
Rested.
Cleared of the Do Until
Loop boggled mind.
Maybe I’ll clean the kitchen today.
I hope.
It’s been a mess for weeks.
Along with this tiny little country cottage.
I both love and hate my house.
Yesterday, I thought too much of my enemies,
And watched too much TV,
And lingered too long on Facebook
With trivial arguments
Over the credibility of Bush
And my acting skills.
I won. I’m a natural they say.
I wish I were rich.
I both love and hate my enemies.
I phoned my daughter.
She wasn’t there.
Well, she was, but not with her phone.
No, she probably had her phone,
But it was on silent.
She gets too many calls.
She’s popular,
And smart,
And beautiful,
And talented,
And creative,
And works too hard.
Chip off the old block.
I thought of my son.
He doesn’t speak to me,
And I don’t know why.
I’m weird, perhaps.
And a witch,
And an actress,
And a poet,
And not his grandfather’s child.
Kidnapped – but he doesn’t believe it.
In Vegas they asked if I was his girlfriend
Gambling for his 21st birthday.
Embarrassing.
His mother looks too young.
Damned skin care regimen!!
My son is the apple of my eye.
My daughter, the sweetest peach of my heart.
I both love and adore my children.
My children.
My precious, beautiful, smart, perfect,
One of a kind children.
They are all I live for.
All I’ve ever wanted in life.
Except grandchildren….
And kisses
From little baby lips.
Sweet 25% me baby lips.
I CAN”T WAIT!!!