Before Darkness

Before darkness

in summer

there is a hush

that settles like dust motes.

In the distance

cars hum quietly,

their cones of light leading the way.

A lone lawnmower buzzes,

as if to cut the light short.

Children’s voices are muffled

as they emerge from a pool.

A sprinkler cuts an arc

across the lawn, relieving its thirst.

 

Before darkness

in summer

there is a sense of privilege

of unending days.

Lines form for ice cream,

moths darting at the neon sign.

Couples walk along the beach,

their feet in the lapping waves.

People sit on dimly-lit porches,

sharing stories of summers long past.

Beach towels are hung on railings and lines,

haphazardly telling the day’s adventures.

 

Before darkness

in summer

There is a mystery

that only the stars can see

as the world slowly exposes itself

just before sleep.

 

Eve T. Remillard

Leather, High Heels, And Pink Panties…

Grabbing at any thread of faith

silouhettes wandering aimlessly

Acceptance like a shriveled prayer shawl

mirrored soul never meet

Beauty of a fractured mind

writing poems about you

My mask is heavy like a Gladiators

snore up to the heavens

Awake Jesus, I don’t care

lust is my master

Flow deep baby,as the sea

season after season

My scars are everywhere

tick-tock Baby Love

To love an enigma

parade my body

Through Missouri winds

revoluton to free my heart

Follow ghosts down broken streets

you look like coke to me

I scream and nothing comes out

manchild pretty

Her shadow walks inside his heart

Chihuily,nice.

poetry soothes me

Lights,actions, camera

You’re on in

3,2,1…

Poem for My Sunshine (2017)

She makes me smile easily
I love the sound of her laugh
She loves unconditionally
She has a tender heart
She is not average
She is a superhero
Saving my life every day
With her kindness and love
She is not like us
She far surpasses our ability
To exist, to love, to see the world
For all the beauty that it holds
My life would be empty without her

Cloud Mountain (prompt 18)

In the movie the girl stands

On a bridge over infinite clouds.

Below, a vast chasm.

The stones are cold

Under her hands, but there is sun

On her face and she closes her eyes.

A memory slides into focus.

Grandmother telling a story,

A story of a princess

Who sacrificed herself for love.

She leaped from the bridge of sighs

And turned into a snow white bird

Who lived forever flying among

The white clouds with her love.

The girl sighs.

She knows the only way to be

with her lover is to dive in.

Did he become a bird,

Waiting for her in the clouds below?

Without hesitation she climbs

Onto the stone wall and jumps.

Her arms go out, her legs spread out,

Her shirt fans out like white wings.

She falls into the waiting clouds,

A serene look on her face.

Gone forever.

Tea

 

 

Without the fluids see
I get those migraines
But I won’t drink plain water
I tried and carried a jug for months
Always still half full at twilight

Way too many migraines

Any one of my ten
Classrooms has tea stains on the carpet
I clutch this grown up sippy cup or
Put it down
Knock it over
Leave it precarious
My mind is with the kids you see

This district allows
Personal appliances
So my 1.5 liter water heater is
Handy
And the drawer full of teabags
A serious compromise from
Hand picked organic loose leaf and infusers
But see let’s not be nuts about such things
At least not at work

After real tea in Japan
No paper baggies and thread
Do the trick for my ritual
Blessing

Though at school I admit
I can hold my tippy sippy in both hands
Sneak in a quick prayer for patience or with luck
Gratitude
Quaff a warm, soothing draft that
Hides a bittersweet smile

See I can’t
Keep a straight face around the kids.

Walking dead on a cloudy mountain

I walked through the woods on a foggy mountains with no where to stop.

I came across a big bear with hungry cubs in tow,

I  begun to slow down and hid behind a humongous rocks.

I stopped breathing, so no one could hear me and the only way

To save my life from those hungry scavengers.

I didn’t know that it took them so long to stay close to where I am.

My brain started protesting, to pump more oxygen and

Pretending I played  dead  for more than an hour and my heart stopped,

I’ m brain dead now.

Nightmares terrorized my whole being and the chase won’t stop now,

Hallucinating from fear of death.

I am a walking dead among the maze of Forrest wood and the dark foggy night, lost my way out

Out of the cloudy mountain.

 

 

 

 

 

#6 tea

i wish you were here,

so i could tell you to bring milk, full cream.

i can’t drink tea without it.

how could i, sip just ruby, hot water

by itself.

any more than i can live

by myself.

#18 Table For Two

She always prepared the table for two, set her hair and dressed each night for dinner.

Her mother’s china with the gold rim framed with good silver from the wooden box.

The wine goblets filled with iced water from the wine decanter glimmered in the light from the candle flame.

She served two plates and ate from one, then covered the other with foil.

She imagined who might join her; a gentleman caller, former classmate, a neighbor or a stranger passing through town.

She read the paper each day, so she could discuss current events with the companion that never materialized.

When dinner was finished she cleared the table and knew that her lunch the next day would be the same meal, eaten standing at the kitchen counter surveying the visitors at her bird feeder.

Once done she would begin preparing the evening meal and mentally organizing her topics for discussion.

Then she busied herself with choosing an outfit and accessories for the evening.

Her days were full, her hours ticked by to the pendulum swing of the grandfather clock in the hallway.

The only thing that remained empty was the seat across from her own at dinner each night and the space in her heart that she had reserved for one.

Table for Two – Prompt 18

Peckinpah hummed to something on the radio –
“Name me somebody who’s not a parasite
and I’ll go out and say a prayer for him.”

Realizing his guest might not be a Dylan fan,
Sam turned the radio off, and looked for his tea cozy.
the one no one who knew him suspected he owned.

As he looked, other items in the small trailer –
he was on-set – got thrown or kicked to a hiding place.
Except for the magazine with his expected guest on the cover.

The Midwest, what could he ask about its influence?
It wasn’t the West, the real West, the open plain
where men, not committees, determined the future.

Just as he began to second-guess his invitation,
he heard a car nearing his temporary abode.
Passing the bathroom, he caught his face in the mirror

And grimaced at his nerves, and his sloppy napkin folds.
A car door shut, footsteps, then a knock -solid and manly –
that Sam answered. “Well, hello, Mr. Benton, glad you found us.”