Hour six
It’s one of those nights
when I try to forget you
(when I try to set free
the stars of your memory)
The ink flows
and speaks of you
you become my muse
And I’m left
with a notebook
full of you.
(with a sky
full of you.)
Beardie-Love
Crickets are too swift for you,
Beardie-Love, so I’ll pinch
a plump mealworm, make it squirm,
brush your cheek with it
until you crunch it. Crunch.
Munch on shredded collards
spinning between my thumb
and index finger, tickled
under your chin. My digits
are too large to eat, Love,
your nose to tail fits
on my forearm. You may perch
in my hair while I scoop out
your sand, slice sweet carrots
for you, slice strawberries.
Munch. Flatten yourself
when I reach in until you
smell my skin, crawl up
and toward my neck. I’ll cradle
you in terry cloth, your nails
need trimmed. Soak in the tub
while I fetch fresh water, never
minding the wet nose at the door.
Hour 3
Melting
I never craved chocolate until
I witnessed the horizon meet
Those perfect brown eyes.
Inside Out
Outside the bones are pale,
visible, crooked, inflamed.
Inches of neon
fill sensitive parts
of my anatomy.
The skin is paler still,
wrapped in fur
like a rug,
like a quilt
gleaming
like armor.
My memory
explodes like
alphabet soup.
Spilling words
like Andy Warhol
drew Hollywood.
7~17
do I dare?
(she whispered)
(to herself)
i feel SO weirdly funny…
<<she gently began to nudge>>
<<& scooch>>
if only it weren’t so dark in here!
pin
prick
spot
of
light
~wriggling~wriggling~wriggling~
…tender wings sooo soft…
a flurry on the next warm breeze
Adventures!!!
(((my sweet butterfly)))
Hour 1
How Mermaids Were Made
Mother Earth gave birth to a daughter.
She didn’t listen to what her Mother taught her.
She played with wind and fire,
denying, she became a liar.
So Mother sentenced her daughter to live under water.
Jive
Swifting suddenly in a tantalizing movement caught up in a moment of emotions briefly staring into flirtatious eyes dancing, smiling, grabbing the best of you away from here. Your mind, my mind,wondering far away outside a smiling reality inside another reality away with a smile replaying a different paradise.
Poem By JGomez
Buyer be wear
People should come with
little tags sewn on their necks
proper care, cleaning
what they are made from
with exact percentages
better than the clichéd’
‘what’s your sign?’ you
could ask to see their tag
I would be looking for
a girl who was blend, not
‘100% pure’ anything, for I
am distrustful of absolutes
and would skip anyone
‘dry clean only’
but a girl labeled
‘hand wash, gentle cycle’
or ‘hang dry only’
would be a stylish addition
to my wardrobe
– Mark L. Lucker
© 2017
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd
Prompt for Hour Eight
The prompt for hour eight is to write a golden shovel. Not familiar with the form? That is not surprising, it was created in 2010 by the poet Terrance Hayes in his poem The Golden Shovel.
It is pretty simple though. First you take a line or lines from a poem you admire.
Use each word from the line(s) as the end word of each of the lines in your poem. So for example if you used a line with ten words, your poem should be ten lines long.
Keep those words in order.
Give credit to the original poet.
Below is an example. The original line inspiring it is “Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone” by W.H. Auden
When you asked me yesterday to stop
at the top of the hill and look out at all
the cliffs that form the walls of the
valley, I shook my head and pointed at the clocks.
Now I want nothing more but to cut
work with you, to take every hour off
to be spent on the trail, in a hammock, in the
pool, anything. For the person to be you, on the other side of the ringing telephone.
shade
under the shadow
of branches
low steady strong
to sit with a similar soul
human or bird
is a special kind of company
for a brief moment
you share
a breath smile heartbeat
until the wind returns
and you part
for separate worlds
or bedrooms