Hour 12: Nonet

There is so much that I’d like to say

To paint a picture just for you

But the colors turn muddy

My voice comes unsteady

What can I do when

Words are useless,

Colors dull,

But sit

Mute?

Hour 11: Today

I thought I saw you in a storefront today

Just a glance from my periphery

Side-eyed as I walked by

My heart stopped and I froze

A familiar pang leapt to my chest

Needle-sharp, straight to my heart

Memories of that day in the sun

My periwinkle dress discarded on the ground

Entwined together in the grass as we watched the clouds

“You can’t see the sky in the city,” you said.

The busy city, littered with skyscrapers and idle gossip

We were the only two souls in the world that day

I turned and looked again into the storefront window

And you were not there

I smiled sadly and walked away

Hour 10: Reflections and Truth

Reflections always frighten me

Silly, I know

They say the mirror never lies

So maybe it’s the truth I fear

Truth- a powerful word

A subjective word

Everyone has their own version

He said- she said

It all becomes a matter of believability

Wouldn’t it be so much easier to just hold up a mirror?

Like Dorian’s portrait, every hideous detail could be put on display

No questions, no doubt, no misinterpretation

No twisted words and innuendos

All intentions clear, all truths revealed

Maybe that’s what frightens me

My truth lain bare for all to see

Every sharp, ugly, grotesque imperfection marked on this body and soul

Maybe I’m not scared of reflections after all….

Hour 9: Common Saying

It’s always darkest before the dawn

When the stars have all burned out

The moon has sunk low and sun has stubbornly refused to rise

The world is blanketed in the blackest of blacks

And everything is still

Voices are silenced

Breath is held

The world waits

Waits to see if the promise of dawn will be fulfilled

And for one excruciating moment

It seems that it never will

Then a faint glow appears on the horizon

And the shadows slowly recede

The dawn breaks

The world breathes

And life goes on

Hour 8: Inspired by The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton

Paul Newman and a ride home

Orphaned boy looking at sunsets

Sharks circle, surround, hold him down

Choking, gasping, water runs red

One boy left with the blood, another left dead

Runaways- Outlaws- Gone with the Wind

Blonde disguise- Bologna sandwiches and cigarettes to pass the time

Church and innocence consumed by flame

Smoke filled lungs strangled

Burnt fleshed heroes

A light extinguished from gentle eyes- too soon

Denial, acceptance, a letter slips free

“Stay gold, Ponyboy. Do it for me….”

Hour 7: Normal

Define normal:

Cookie-cutter

Carbon copy

Boxed in

Polite, smile, nod

Cross your legs

Stand up Straight

Sit down

Shut up

Know your place

Do as you’re told

Don’t talk back

Do not question

Do not think

Accept, Resign, Submit

 

I do not fit that mold

I ooze across the baking sheet

Spill out of that box

I argue, cry, shake my head

I slouch and lean

I am not silent

I rebel, (did I mention I argue?)

I think lovely and radical thoughts

I question everything

Including your idea of “normalcy”

So please accept my apology if I do not resign myself to your definition

I submit to no one

Hour 6: May I Have This Dance?

Stately Waltz

Lively Polka

Respectable Fox Trot

Tantalizing Tango

Samba, Swing

Jitterbug, Charleston

Graceful Ballet

Do a little two step

Moon walk across the floor

Breakdance, Flashdance

Twist the night away

Boot Scoot

Soft Shoe

Tap-tap-tap

Trip the light Fandango

Cha-cha, Slide, Shuffle

Bump and Grind

Let the music move you

Put your hand in mine

May I have this dance?

Hour 5: Chest

Roosevelt dimes

Wheat pennies

One gold piece from the Four Queens

Chanel #5 scented letters never sent

A 22-short bullet from an unknown pistol

Faded photographs of fake smiles

Postcards across land and time

Bright costume jewelry

Hairpins

Lipstick and rogue

Love, loss, hope, regret

Packed away in Grandma’s chest

Hour 4: Invisibility

How much strength does it take to become invisible?

To blend into tacky wallpaper and stale conversation?

To be consumed by the deafening silence that seeps into every molecule, every atom, the very nucleus of your existence?

How much energy does it take to scream into a crowded room where no one looks up or bats an eye?

I saw Chicago and Mr. Cellophane became my anthem

I wrapped myself in Reynold’s wrap until I suffocated my own voice

How much force do you need to generate to have someone walk right through you?

You see, to me ghosts are merely memories, stuck on replay

Over and over and over

Trying to get it right

To walk through me makes me a ghost

Am I a memory? Am I stuck on repeat?

How hard do you need to push a needle to unskip a record?

I don’t like the soundtrack of my life

Fast forward-fast forward-fast forward

Until it is all a blur

Until I am invisible

Until I am closed into your mind like a whisper, a dream that my have been a memory but now you’ve forgotten

Whether I am dream or reality

Don’t worry, I have the same problem all the time

Hour 3: Blackbird (Inspired by The Beatles song)

Blackbird, dark, ancient muse

Singing the song my soul has forgotten

In the still twilight

The graves of the things I’ve buried away

Dead things I’ve hidden away

Of these you sing, my faithful friend

Night-mares turned to lullabies

Take these melodies of misery

These hymns of hurt

Broken pieces in 3/4 time

Wings clipped to haunting arias

And mend them all

Learn to sing a new song

To make me whole so I may

Fly away with you