The Poetry Marathon

I, the Butterfly

you nagging sparrows, stay away!
see my eyes, watching always.
see my trophies, certificates, grades.
see my pride, demons, stay away!

do not look too close, I pray.
do not see this painted fraud.
do not see my scales and pride
crumbling slightly under stress.

see these colors! they mean poison!
see my smile, it means I’m fine.
see the forest, not the trees.
pay no attention to those rotting leaves.

do not touch the butterfly:
you will cripple its wings forever.
do not inspect my state of mind:
this facade is holding me together.

36 Corn Road, Part 2 – Aunt Imogene

36 CORN ROAD

PART 2 – AUNT IMOGENE

 

She was never just sitting there, waiting for us

She knew we were coming

But that couldn’t keep her from

The work at hand

Chores to her, but her legacy to others

 

Who would be the first to find her?

Sweet Aunt Imogene, earth mother

Would she be working in the garden

Tending to her rooted accomplishments

Her labor of love that would nourish us time and again

 

Would she be in the hen house?

Gathering eggs in her work worn apron

Or taking the “last walk” with one she had nurtured

Who would now take its place at the dinner table

Or more correctly put, “on” the dinner table

 

By the pleasant twitch of my nostrils

I would gather she was in her kitchen

A place so small and dark with coal dusted floors

Yet a place that brought about warmth and love

AND BISCUITS!!

 

The vibrant colors of her beautiful harvest

Made even the oldest of porcelain dishes

Come to life like a finely crafted painting

But one for our consumption, not just for viewing

DID I MENTION HER APPLEBUTTER?

 

When she felt we had our fill

And the empty vessels cleaned and put back in their place

Behind the curtained cupboards,

She would take us out for an adventure

What would it be this time?

 

Would we canvass the hills for the perfect

Leaves and nuts, or butterflies for our school projects

Or would we go digging for old bottles

Blue ones, green ones, clear ones, ones with labels or corks

What had been in them, who left them behind for us to find?

 

Or would we be so lucky to have her share

Her button collection

Tin after tin, dumped out on the creaky feather bed

She knew where she found that black one or the one

That looked like it came from a movie star’s dress.

Always a story, now a great memory.

 

It was time to go

But we never left empty handed.

A trip to the root cellar, though scary

With the possibility of interrupting a snake’s nap,

Always ended with a basket of jarred goodness

The best of her…..home with us

Until we needed, more correctly, wanted, to come back for more.

More food, more adventures, more Aunt Imogene.

 

I miss her!

Distance

The Clock Strikes One
As I countdown
Until I can see you.
No more,
Skype,
Chats, or texts
To keep us connected
While you work.
I will see you
Again.
Not a photo, but you.
My love.
Heart and soul,
We’ll be skin to skin.
Heartbeats and breath
Keeping time.

I wait for you.
And I would for a lifetime.
I’d yearn for you,
But I’d wait.
Love, so fierce,
So strong
No matter our distance from each other.
I long for it to be done.
So, I can show you
Our love.
Is still as strong.
Unbroken by what had to be.

So Simple (hour 4)

I am the distant, divorced, defiant daughter
of parents who persistently ponder
why I can’t just settle for simple.

I trust these trouble-makers to tell
me the honest, blunt truth.

I married simple, and simply put, I smiled sweetly
while he wiped away our forever
without wrestling with whether or not it would
kill me.

When you awake to the fact, that-
“good” is an adjective
not a personality trait,
simple stops looking so sweet.

In Transition

As time passes,
New leaves sprout on my English Ivy.
New growth stretches towards the window.
Towards the sun.

As time passes,
New truths are shared in my family.
with my friends.
More people know who I am now.
But not enough

As time passes,
My kitten matures into a cat.
He grows closer with our dog, his sister.
They care for each other.

As time passes,
I get more fed up with my body.
The things it does each month,
The fat placement,
The mammary glands.

As time passes,
My siblings turn into adults.
Once toddlers, now teenagers
Almost mature.

As time passes,
I wish for a full beard
and wonder how long it will take to grow one
once I start testosterone.
I hope it comes quickly.

As time passes,
my “transition” progresses,
but I am not the only one,
the only thing
in transition.

4. Yearly Reminder

I noticed you the Spring following
At first, I believed myself foolish to think you’d go to the trouble

You were always so quick to go unnoticed
If at all possible

The Quiet Man, mom would call you
Just like the movie

You’d land on my car, right by the door.
Hard as I tried, without harm, I’d shoo you away

And you would, only to land on the steel fence right next to me
Once or twice, even landing on my arm or hand

At the time, you were just another insect
A life that flitted about in search of your purpose

A year later you appeared again
Same coloration, same routine of
car,
shoulder,
fence

And every year after, since, you return
Sure as the seasons

Never before then, though
That’s how I know it’s you

Butterfly House, London

So delicate,
these little winged beings.
They sip sweet nectar
from orange slices and
then they launch into the air.
In the tent
outside the museum,
they are protected
from London’s rain and traffic.
Here, people of all ages,
point and laugh,
marveling at the creatures
flitting above and around them
and then,
one lands on you,
perches on you,
flaps its orange and brown wings
and you look so surprised and
so delighted and,
yes,
so beautiful.

Burnout

Exhaustion lingers in my soul.
My bones are leaden, my muscles jello
My body aches, my minds a troll
I’m not even feeling mellow.
My eyes they sting, each breath burns
I feel my brain begin to quiver
I give out, get no returns
My entire being starts to shiver.
With every thought, I want to scream
Even speaking is a chore
Each tired glance is a bad dream
I give up, I hit the floor.

Grief

Grief is a python
It is shaped into creation
In your brain
It slithers down
The spinal cord
Into the
Veins in your body
Until it reaches your heart
Where it curls around
Squeezing your chambers
Until you are emptied
Of the life you knew.

Nuptual Lament

Deja Vu

I’m sorry what’s your name?

Whos wedding is this again?

Meet me in the alley.

Wanna make out?