Post #6: He Calls Home
He Calls Home
Those who are called home
often see the familiar
welcoming the sights
@ Renee Avard-Furlow
June 13 2015
Evening… 7/24
Red ball of fire lies low
Upon a bank of amber clouds,
Hesitant to dive over the horizon
For the umpteenth time
Since its inception…
Then suddenly it curtseys…
And is gone – cool replaces heat –
And Venus appears
With a shy wink in the
Midnight-blue sky
Moon’s shiny disk joins in –
Paints everything in her path
A vibrant bluish silver –
How I wish I could – only this once –
Join her on her mystic journey…
© 2015 Antoinette LeRoux
Moving so divinely
Moving so divinely
Inward awakening
Rustic times emulating
Conquering unexpected things
A cheers to life and love sharing
1:00 pm 08/06/2015
© ROY MARK AZANZA CORRALES ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
You’re Running Out of Time (Hour Seven)
“Quick,” she said. “You’re running out of time.”
I opened my eyes and blinked, tried to focus on her face.
“How is it,” I asked, “that thoughts rise like bubbles,
And then pop suddenly? Like this, they disappear.”
“No matter,” she said. “The Muse is teasing you.
She wants you to appreciate it when her lightning strikes.
Try wooing her and see what happens.”
And I knew then, I’d been an awful suitor.
After the Funeral #7
After a funeral
After all the tears are spent
Solemn gray shadows close coffin lids
The room is warm sitting next to the fire
Attempting to calm itself.
The wall reveals its true intentions
Slightly buzzing gossip
A distant lamp just over the door
Fighting for its life
Flickering eternal escapes
Plans fizzle as draft tickles the floor
Everyone rests
As death waltz’s through the room
Silence
Black hues
White
Is refreshing
Just like
When the sun’s
First rays comes
Through the window panes
White
Is pure
As pure
As a baby’s
Giggle
Purer than the glare
You see in those innocent eyes
White
Is peace
It’s mellow
It is a new slate
White
Is classic
It is the color
We try to use
To replace
Our mistakes
You know… Like white out
Black is the color
I choose to wear
From my tank tops
To underwear
Black
Bestows
Confidence
It embodies
All the colors
Found on a color palate
Black is connected
It is not
In the absence of
Like its
Opposite
Black is warm
It is security
It is alert
I like to paint
My creations with black
Most times
Write my name
In this undeniable ink
Black and white
When mixed together
Bring confusion
I
Stay away from
Those grey hues…
Ever (7)
I smile because in the stillness
I feel fully our emotions.
I sink into your essence which is
a fragrant almond oil perfuming
my skin.
I immerse into the warm thickness of it
how it cocoons me, closes in with
security and sanctuary.
This stillness allows time for
my pores to absorb all
that you offer.
My skin glistens with it, breaths out
your scent. Your fingertip’s
whorls and swirls
permanently tattooed underneath
my skin.
The power of your tenderness
the delicate nature underlying
your strength keeps
me irrevocably bound to you
as long as you choose to
grant me this gift.
my two front teeth
every time i go to the dentist now,
they ask if i want to close the gap
between my two front teeth.
that i’ve always had
and no one said anything before
i was 40 years old.
my grandfather was my dentist
and he must have liked the gap,
because i do.
as a kid, and sometimes now,
i’ll stick something in there.
a dime fits well,
not a quarter.
i say, no, i want to keep my gap
and whoever it is, just shrugs
her shoulders
as if i’m making a mistake.
lauren hutton had a gap that
made her famous.
she was on magazine covers
with a gap between her teeth.
i bet her dentist didn’t ask if she
wanted to close it.
so i’m not perfect
and i’m not on magazine covers.
i love the gap
it makes me smile.
Gravitas
Commanding the room
The largest lead weight
On the rubber sheet
Of social intrigue
Little ball-bearings
Scattered in patterns
Move at a distance
But never too far
Prompt: Concrete imagery
Form: Unrhymed quatrains
(7th hour) This man on the corner
This man stands there looking alone, lost and clearly in fear.
His eyes hazed over I say hello no response I guess he cant hear.
I ask if he needs help and nothing comes out when all at once he calls me Gloria now I know he needs his bed
This man on the corner is not deaf he needs help, he has alzheimers I must find his home he needs his meds.
This man on the corner can be you or me, memories lost like the blank stare in his eyes.
He must be so scared, lost and alone, my dad too has this disease someday’s he just sits there and cries.
This man on the corner is now in good hands he wears a bracelet with a nursing home address.
Now I’ve returned him he’s home at last his wife Gloria says thank you as his hand she does her best to caress