tonsorial
Tresses on the floor reveal what once defined her beauty
alone in the chair
none of that matters now
the pixie staring back at her wasn’t smiling and the mirror wasn’t lying
She’d tip him anyway
The Rose Society
Sweet like morning dew on
blades of grass before the
ladybugs come to drink.
On our lapels, the stars
we used to keep in our eyes,
safer where they can at least
be washed and pressed.
The glens roll in the spring,
white then purple then yellow
then blue with the scent of
summer, and the heat takes up
the flower colonies.
Pollen drains into our pores
and we wait, wait
for spring again.
Finalities
And we learned of finalities
not in the goodbyes
not in the farewells
no, we learned of finalities
beacause we loved
because we felt
because we hoped
Momentary Setback
The lure of disappointment’s strong,
To get it wrong
And let it go
“I told you so”.
It’s hard to keep on fighting when
I could give in
Twelve minutes late,
And such a state…
But I won’t take the easy out
I’ll stand and shout
Though I’m delayed,
I won’t be stayed.
Form: Minute Poetry
Alone
Finally. The pitter patter of little feet are heard only in the echo of my memory.
I am an entertainer and it is time to put on the mask that hides Kim and creates Special K.
This is what I long for during those hours spent with him practically attached at my hip.
Be careful what you ask for. Isn’t that what the old folks say?
As much as I crave the attention; the fame; the spotlight and the stage
I really don’t want to be alone as much as I say.
Erausre Poem (Hour 12)
Source Text: The Land of Little Rain by Mary Austin
The nature of burned chaos painted
to an intolerable glare of ash and black rains.
The hollows of hard mountains, dark, thin beauty
in the broad wastelands, drifting in between the saline
sculptures of storm scars, edges torn through terrible country.
Residents found maddening, dribbling, thirsting for hot death,
rolling upon the long, heavy breathlessness of the devil’s dance
and whirling up into the pale sky. Here you have a rain that makes
all the world cry in downpours and bursts of violence.
A land of lost love, once visited inevitably,
And if it were not so, there would be little told of it.
Poised
Is he a drug addict?
Is he depressed?
Is he a murderer?
All questions posed by poised college students
reading what can only be their first
taste of one Edgar Allen Poe.
They don’t understand his fixations,
his musings into the human psyche.
“Why would he write about murder
unless he had thought about
committing it himself?”
a real question asked by a
fearful nineteen year old.
We can’t pretend. Every person inspects
the world for the unusual or deranged.
Every person fixates on the mysterious,
ponders what might one day kill them.
They each pray that no harm ever comes
to them, like what they see on the news.
Poe brings their fears into the spotlight.
He allows us to analyze every flaw
in the human condition. He puts the
dark and disastrous center stage.
He makes us face it.
Working Hands
Working Hands
You can tell a man’s worth
Not by the change in his pocket
But by the skin on his hands
And the lines in his face
Men who can save for the future
Hire hard-handed men
To do their labor as they
Move numbers across a desk
Men with leathery worn fingers
Broad and hard at the edges
From digging and pounding have
Hands immune to the world
These hands of working men
Work for money to
Buy the blue sailboat
Pay the lumberyard debt
For a man’s worth must be
Gathered and displayed
Shown off to each other
To be acknowledged
TobeTT # 13
My Pets
Completely dark black fur,
Terrified of thunderstorms,
Absolute sweetheart.
Small, gray, and stripey,
Loves running laps each morning,
Adores his sister.
Take It Easy
Taking it easy now
No rushing for me
Though I get it done
And work better under pressure
But what does that really say about me
And why does it connect with the conversation that I had with my children
Why is there so much pressure
When children should just tobe left be children
Yes there’s so much going on
Outside the comfort doors of home
Out of the comfort, love, and protection of your parents home
If you got it that is
But inside
Why so much
Why so much pressure
They are diamonds already
Came out shining
Though it may not have been easy
Taking it easy
While letting my mind be breezy
Copyright © 2019 by Angelica Stevenson
All Rights Reserved