Hour Nine
Do you hear me?
Sometimes I wonder,
As I watch you watching me.
Do my words get through?
You don’t respond,
Just that gaze…And no reply
Chi-Weenie
Oliver, Oliver.
Why are you so annoying?
Oliver, Oliver.
Why are you still growing?
Oliver, Oliver.
Should you have so much hair?
Oliver, Oliver.
When I eat why do you stare?
Oliver, Oliver.
Is hot dog your favorite dish?
Oliver, Oliver.
Does rolled up newspaper make you twitch?
Oliver, Oliver.
The realest “cat” I’ve ever known.
Oliver, Oliver.
True to design, if truth be told.
Oliver, Oliver.
To you I tribute, do you care?
OLIVER, OLIVER!
Would you get off my stinkin’ chair.
We need…
He comes in with curiosity and excitement,
running to the desk that bares his name.
His mother hides her eyes, but the tension
can be seen in the shoulders under the threadbare sweater.
“We need…” the teacher says, handing her the list.
He comes in with sleepy eyes and hunger,
walking slowly to the desk that bares his name.
The tag, slightly worn, is beginning to peel
from anxious fingers that have worried the edges.
“We need…” the principal says, leading him to the office.
He comes in with dirty clothes and anger,
slumping in to the chair at a desk that bore his name.
The fury ebbing off him in walls of confusion,
as he pushes away another book full of indecipherable symbols.
“We need…” the School Board says, as they push another test.
He doesn’t come in anymore, the streets have won.
There is no longer a desk for him, not that he cares.
He has found a place that won’t demand things
he can’t give or require what he doesn’t have.
“We need you to see us,” the children say with eyes weary and old.
Hour 8: We Need.
‘We need to be here’, said my ex-husband’s new wife.
‘Can we come in? It’s been a long drive.’
He mentions the house, a quarter his, looks nice.
“The kids put the lights up”, I try to surmise.
“Your mother around?” She’s in Greece, I reply,
Wiping my hands on this apron of mine.
“The stress was too much; she needed to go.”
“So just you then,” says New Wife. She seems a bit slow.
“We need coffee,” he says; I guess this is my cue
To go to our kettle and bring them a brew.
The clock’s echoing tick in the hall strikes three.
He stands slightly in front of her and looks at our tree.
“How much did that cost?” he asks all of a sudden.
I say nothing back and look out at the garden.
Poem #8: Home
Home
I fell apart
(we need you together)
I fell through
(we need you safe inside)
I fell down
(we need you up here)
I need to find my way
(we need togetherness)
I searched myself and got lost
(we need to find you)
I actually found myself finally
(we need you home)
I need to be home
@ Renee Avard-Furlow
June 13 2015
Crystal Part 1
I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror
Shadows cast dark circles under my sunken eyes that have been open for far too long
The soothing sound of Thom Yorke “I keep falling over, I keep passing out when I see a face like you”
The running water from the bathtub eased my anxiety
I peeled my clothes off
My cotton t-shirt stuck to my sweat soaked skin
My jeans grabbed on to me as I tried to pull them off
The cold tile on the bathroom floor was only a slight refrain from the heat that was leaking from my body
I could get through this,
I could do this.
I submerged my body into the icy cold water, as my body slid against the side of the tub.
If I could just hold out a little while longer, then I would be through the worst of it.
I wanted more than anything for my body to stop craving her. I didn’t want to be with her anymore
I didn’t want to need her.
I’ve wasted so many hours addicted to her.
The night would fade into the day and the day would fade into the night and as long as I had Crystal, that’s all I needed.
This was going to be the end, I swore to myself.
I was so never wrong in my life
#9 – ADHD Yoda, a haiku
sometimes my brain hurts
too many thoughts taking hold
sense it does make not
Poem #9
Food comas are great on Thanksgiving day
when you are stuffed full of deliciousness.
But when the goal of the day, is to stay
awake, your plans may turn into a mess.
As your eyelids begin to droop, you jerk
yourself back into consciousness again.
And you throw yourself back into your work,
trying to keep your words from being plain.
As now I write, this is my dilemma.
Do I stuff myself with sugary treats,
or buy hot chocolate with extra crema…
#8bis – Organs
Organs on my pillow
Trouble my dreams
Movements of chemicals
Through my inner fabrics
Send signals
To my organs
There is nothing to do
Body knows exactly
What’s up in the story
Organs are magical
And mysterious
They provide me
With so much well-being
And atrocities as well
As for the right way to go
I got not a single idea
Body knows that
Nobody knows
The only choice that
Is working
Is to surrender
To the wanting
Of the universe
As it’s unfolding
It’s sheer fare of nothing
Beyond all your fears and believes
Nothing will ever come back
If you don’t send it first
Give, give and give
Without expecting
A single thing
Back any time
Then you will be blown away
By the wind on your screen
Whistling to your heart
How to sing the new song
That leads to your soul
Purpose is to be
Purpose is to give
And receive
When it’s back
To your pink Cadillac
Organs on my pillow
Trouble my dreams
Movements of chemicals
Through my inner fabrics
Send signals
To my organs
Prompt for Hour Nine
Set a timer. Write whatever comes in to your head for 5 minutes as fast as you can. Don’t delete anything you type, and don’t bother to spell check. It is all about getting the words down on the paper.
After the 5 minutes are up start editing what you have. Feel free to cut and add material as needed. Try to spend at least 15 minutes, if not longer, editing the piece.