Hour 7
Barefoot and sun kissed
Swinging with the sunflowers
Hair blowing and birds chirping
Is where my heart belongs
Hour 5
The single chair in the middle of the room
Colorful flowers lay atop
A room unused for years
Abandoned and unloved
Yet someone chooses to feel it’s warm embrace
Summer in Mississippi – Hour 9
Out back of the carport the bayou quivered with mayflies
and June bugs and mosquitoes looking for love.
A normal summer night in the south.
A bare yellow lightbulb sputtered on the porch.
We bet our meager allowances
on how much longer it would last.
We hoped it would go out.
Night is better.
It wasn’t chilly, but you put your jacket around me,
and blushed with the tremor that went through me.
The smell of your skin enveloped me.
I put my hand on your arm and
Your elbow bumped my breast.
I felt you gasp, and I looked down quickly to smile.
There were cinnamon candies in your jacket pocket.
We took two, knowing it wouldn’t be long
before we would be breathing each other’s breath.
We knew where to go, and there was still plenty of time.
Prompt #9
They felt the tremor all the way
to the bayou, where folks turned
beet red at the thought of impropriety and even
the elk head in the dining room was embarrassed
by the way you elbowed your way into their lives,
only to kick the bucket without even
a howdy-do, sending another tremor all the way
back to St. Louis.
Butterfly Dance
They danced above
and around me,
blissfully unaware
of the harsh brevity of our lives,
the most beautiful duet
I’ve ever seen
Time and Space
Time mistakes us for caring beings
We are uncaring of time
Space mistakes us for caring beings
We are uncaring of space
Nature mistakes us for caring beings
We are uncaring of nature
Time will destroy us
Space will crush us
Nature will suffocate us
MY COCOON
Never the pretty one,
Or the popular one,
I was made fun of often.
Teased for how I looked,
How I talked.
I became extremely self-conscious,
More aware of my appearance than I should have been.
At all times,
My hair was done,
Make-up on and nails freshly painted.
Yet,
I still always felt like that ugly, unpopular girl.
I didn’t notice the guys paying attention to me,
The girls who wanted to hang out.
I was the caterpillar who had transformed into a beautiful butterfly.
Hour 3
The stars are dancing
Like rhinos with glitter dancing on the sun
Your smell like a tropical vacation
Your taste like a honeydew melon
Your voice like the most beautiful song
Your body like my favorite amusement ride
Your skin like satin
A roller coaster for my senses
A doctor to my love
My heart as your hospital
Yet the song you sing is often dark
Knowing I enjoy all of you, especially the dark
Bobbycock, everyone else says
Love is hate and hate is love I try and explain
The giggles from within they speak of are false
The butterfly feeling is an illusion I try to say
Butterflies are often just colorful moths
Moths are the beauty of death
I am but a Brooke unable to keep people from drowning
Soon the Brooke will swallow you whole
The tides have come and the water has fallen
The logs scream out our names
A mixture of beauty and chaos
The perfect love, the perfect story, the perfect us.