All in the Moving

The will to move. To sweat.
To feel the breath of my life
Cough forth from my lungs
Escapes me, like a fly.

In the kitchen I forget
The need to feel the strife
Of movement as my tongue
Tastes fat and sugar for my thigh.

“Oh honey, you’re too pretty
To be so fat. You need to lose
Some weight!” Said the bigot
Who hates all those unlike herself.

Had I the will to move… A pity
To blame it all upon the booze.
If only I could close the spigot
And live a life more like an elf.

So gracefully I’d move and play
And sing and dance each lovely day.

Remember

When considering colours, remember: regrettably,the most common is magnolia

When considering honesty, remember: most people, given the choice, would prefer a dose of amnesia

When considering imagination, remember: despite it’s superiority, it’s widely considered an affront to academia

When considering ambitions, remember: that although you protest, if you continue to write, you might, no you must include bibliomania

When considering people, remember: your theory about the destruction of DNA – your immortality depends on avoiding bacteria

When considering a destination, remember: take the scenic route always but ultimately, head to bohemia

 

(c) Gemma Hinton 14/6/15

 

The Boxer

did I ever tell you,

how proud you have made me,

for a time

you seemed to lose your way;

and how could you not

after life treated you in such a way;

yet, here you stand

bruised and battered,

once again

you have picked yourself up;

one thing

you must remember

when life is coming,

always stand tall

By: KMH 2015

First catch your horse…

I saddled up my horse,
Struggled with my halberd,
Braided down my hair.

What else is a girl supposed to do
When her knight in shining armour’s not there?

(c) Anne McMaster 2015

Poem #22: Twin Lights

Twin Lights

He cannot see the end of the road.
All the water has gone dry, tasting bitter.
Filthy, pitiful hands scratch on the parchment,
Plying at words forsaken and accident.
At his neck hang thy lock and thy persimmon,
Resuming constant delay without permission,
As the earth moves beneath and behind,
And he is conveyed forward as if on a belt.
For merely pondering a single inquiry
Thrown into the deepest ditch at the side of the road,
He asks roundabout for his destination,
Haplessly finding no such abode.
Why did you leave the keys on the table?
Because I did not think I was able
To keep myself alive
Long enough, to turn the key and drive.
The wind blows the question along;
Deserts of blizzards whistle sheer,
Playing an empty cadenza of a song,
And a single car passing disrupts all this only for a moment.
Tassels of icicles are suspended on branches, and the fire—
It is crying, aching, dying out
Within his heart, smoldering on the route,
Given the circumstance that no telegram can wire.
And in his pocket, wrinkled and worn,
Lies the parchment with one last sentence:
Irritably the finality of frozen desire, edges torn,
In penmanship expressed with such calm clairvoyance.
At his side glimmers in transience
A steel lustre in sombre fluorescence
Handled so delicately, mirrored with existence,
Trudging along with reminiscent persistence.
And plunged into his very heart, this steel lustre
After an echoing silence he cries out, without audience,
“Teacher, I’ve finally the Answer!”
And scenery fades—twin lights returning to incidence.

In July

You whose eyes I knew at once
As eyes are windows to the soul
a face familiar as my own
from when we met so long ago

soul mates you may have more than one
good friends are soul mates too
though our “ship” is struggling so
I know that I need you

Again we met; kismet, this life
and how you understand each time
when we’re alone our secret strifes
emerge and we recognize our souls sublime

Soul mates you may have more than one
but your soul is the one I want.

dinner time

i will never grow tired of taking out a pan-
chopping up an onion, some celery and butter
with a firm green pepper-
that is always the beginning of something good;
the smell from that alone
waffles through the house like a
“mommy’s-in-the-kitchen alarm.
add in some ground beef or turkey, almost any meat will do-
then boil some potatoes until the fork pierces easily through.
Steam up some broccoli or carrots and peas-
it really doesn’t matter at all.

I will never grow tired of setting the tables with plates,
folding the napkins and placing the glasses just so-
then yelling out “it’s dinnertime”
so everyone will know.
Then to watch them scurry round, take some kisses on the cheek-
then sit around the table, knowing they will enjoy whatever they eat.

Poem #21: Inflection

Inflection

The void is compact within a balloon; it could pop and be out of my hands any time.
The trees hold up the sky so it does not fall.
Take a brick and put it in the wall.
Is reality here or did you put it in the closet again?
Something knocked on the door: I am not home.
She is still standing and I am rolling on the stormy sea.
Somebody will you help me!
Ceaselessly the waves cascade.
She is still standing and I am wandering in the woods.
Somebody will you find me!
Glimmering her eyes, the colour of these summer leaves.
She is still standing and I haven’t a clue of where my shoes went.
Wither the wind blows—hither I hear her footsteps play soft upon the ground.
Refine the diamond all you want—it will never shimmer as radiantly as she.
Why buy a spirit at the store when you already have one?
They do not even sell any.
Take a picture.
Remember how to remember.
A time better than this one.
Forget forgetful things; best leave them forgotten for now.
The void becomes stamps null.
A happy balloon for her.
Someone knocked on the door: she is home and so am I.