Hour 15 Tanka
I am proud of me,
Life happens, I persevere,
I will not give up,
I could have remained stagnant,
I have found another way.
Gym Buddy- Hour Fifteen
I see her every night. No bright colors, no fancy water bottle,
just a small woman, bent, hair pulled back, in plain grey
sweatshirt and leggings. Every night, the same deal. I have seen her,
knelt to the ground crying, watched her struggle. Watched her
bend, break, and lose. When the weight’s too heavy for her,
I’m there, watching her form, helping her take the plates back,
and watching her slowly, surely transform.
H15.P15
I am hurt by your decision to begin a new life
It feels like you are leaving me behind
New job, new work mate’s, new opportunities
While l stayed in our old job alone, we where a team
A great team, now we meet at the end of day
In our home, our bed, we still walk hand in hand
Even though you still wrap your arms around me
I am scared, things are not the same….
Eggshells
Hour Thirteen (One Side of a Coin) 11:11
Cracking the shell of identity
tiptoe down the minefield
of popular opinion –
to where even the waters
of emotion are infiltrated
by metallurgic constructs
intended to eviscerate
the existence of personal desire
and choice.
Mindful and with agile movements,
slink through with nimble reflexes
in one’s pursuit of happiness.
Bone white shells empty
of the embryotic components
of the potential future life-
exiled into the bellies of opinion
and methods with which to avoid
the tripwire –
of enemy landmines shrouded in rubble.
There is no map
or destination set-
just a juggernaut tumbling
through an emotional gauntlet.
The eggshells tossed haphazardly
like a Rorschach test
that can never be passed,
despite it’s obvious intent
of metaphorical subjectivity.
Jutting edges crushed under
bare feet bearing the
teeth marks of projected shame-
a shaking of heads
knitting sweaters on brows.
Bottles swing over barstools
with inebriated idle passing curiosity
and drunk from the power of influence
well-intended or otherwise
and then…
…another explosion
rapping like an unwanted guest
at the door to the outlook of destination-
inner monologue, a stammer
tripping over the vice grips
of crowd control.
The sting of well-intentioned advice
some, averting a potential threat-
others a lead to cause to question
whether shadenfreude the main pursuit.
Listen to the click and clatter of
shell casings within a
machine gun spray of
yes’s and no’s
stops and go’s.
Pulse cocking back the hammer
filleting the insides of my chest
with the knockback
as yet another dull crack
rips open the firmament-
a delayed response to prospective dreams,
conquests, and purpose.
Feet enshrouded with padded guilt
tripping over thoughts and decisions
balking at every opportunity
before another rumble from
the bowels of misstep-
the punishment, a barrage
of cut-downs with the crowd’s arsenal
of serrated objection.
Walk upon the balls of feet,
slipping upon the curvature
massaging the arch of back of yet
another stumbling block-
each movement tentative
until one considers the subtle
voice of truth whispered
in spiritual ears that can become muffled
by the sounds of a silent roar-
a clamor of impression.
Indentations pressed with nails to palm.
When one finds stillness within oneself
the noise becomes muted
like cotton on a speaker.
Whisper a response to that voice
a prayer for clarity and confidence.
Steady the swallow of breath
catching like a love knot
within one’s throat
tied up and twisted
until intuition and discernment unravels
the barbed-wire chokehold
and watch as personal truth
and decision-God’s voice and timing
smooths out the path.
Mochi Frogs
I’m catching rain today
In my rain bucket
I’m catching rain today
In the bucket on my head.
I’m catching rain today
To water my mochi frogs
So they can craaaawl
Out of the mochi box
And yaaaaaaawwwn
And stretch, and play.
Pen’s Perspective
“Pen’s Perspective”
I’m one of her favorites
a limited edition
me and my sister
the Poetess, she refills us
with inks of
purple and black
cradled in the space
between
her finger and thumb
as our ink
fill her lines
gripped, put to paper
in a fingered caress
her words bleed
onto the page
our homage
Hour 15- See Me, Please
I saw you standing there
Alone and wondering
In the concrete courtyard
Waiting to go into the garden
You looked so confused
Waiting there
So I decided to help you out
I drifted towards you
Reaching out
I wanted to let you know
The garden was yours to enter.
My hand touched your back
Guiding and gentle
You reached back with your hand
And felt…..
Nothing.
I watched sadly as you turned to look
Your eyes could not find me
No matter how hard I tried
To get your attention.
Alas, all I could do was walk at your side
Hoping that you would know I was there.
A part of me feels you knew
A part of me felt your wish to know.
An inaudible sigh sends a nebulous breath
Whispering against your skin.
You slowly nod, a small smile on your face
And make your way into the garden.
I drift away into a corner
To try again with someone else
Hoping they will see me.
I see the blue of the cloud and yellow of the sun in the distance
Standing at the edge of the cliff, there is not a single line in sight to say where the sky meets green earth. The yellow sun dazzles somewhere and I see the beautiful yellow roses wobble and dance to the beat of the wind. I want to wrap up this moment and tuck it with me forever.
Prompt #15
On the first Friday of each month
she walks into the coffee house and
orders the same thing. Pineapple cider.
It’s 6 bucks. She always tips.
Then she goes into the
adjacent room where the
poetry reading is about
to start.
I heard her once. Poems
mostly about her kid. I went to school with her
daughter so I thought they were funny.
And maybe a little sad.
Just like her.
15 Sightings
Take a look closer
In the pattern of a leaf
For the stripey rocks
And roadside flowers
Desperate weeds that poke
Dragonflies who visit
Bunnies hiding underneath
Chickadees that flurry
See the big picture
In the small things
Rain filled brooks
Acorns tumbling down
When your eyes understand
Then ears can hear
The geese leaving town
And Santa on the roof