Hatred
Hate. Such a vile word.
The feelings it derives are guttural.
As if I’ve contracted food poisoning.
I hate Peaches. Those
Fuzzy. Devilish fruits. Hanging
Ever so innocently from their trees.
Do not believe them. They are liars.
Their colours welcoming. Yet their
Innards strike a note of
Musky old socks with sugar and honey.
Plotting to ruin another day. Filling it with disgust. Why
Would anyone eat them? Tell me how
Something so beautiful shares the name.
For that, is beautiful. And the fruit. Well
Please burn it with fire.
hook, line and sink her
(a tanka)
she breathes best unspooled,
syllables spilled silver soft.
bait her with a phrase,
line cast out long and ready
into wordpools filled with stones.
2015 poetry marathon poem #2 American wheat
in the granary, the single grains of wheat
float like motes of gold
sift through hot spiraling air
beneath the slant shafts of light
a sea of harvest laps
against the smooth boards
of the old silo
chaff softens the outline
of rusty machinery
parked where exhausted men
turned keys and tumbled
to wheat carpeted ground
somewhere in Arizona
a child tears a single piece of bread
Moon — Hour 2
She went outside after hours
just to see what the sky looked like
and discovered that
the soft moonlight reminded her
of her love, so many miles away.
She stayed there all night,
staring up at her memories
until the moon began to fade into the light
and she could say
“Good morning, love.”
Dreamer
Still my beating heart.
It’s just the demons stirring
Soon they’ll go to sleep
And in the dreams you’ll be.
Neverland is far away
But wonderland is just next door.
With the crazy cat we’ll soon meet
And directed to the tea we’ll be.
The pain will fade away
And joy will take it’s place.
When once we were subdued
We’ll now be the warrior.
I Know What A Haiku Is
In the sea of Facebook posts
There is always bait
For an empty compliment
Poem 3
Full “super” moon
illuminated my walk to the beach
Mid-August night
Is a gentle reminder
of summer’s end.
People on porches,
shadowed by candles,
talk, banter, guffaw,
whisper, share libations
and points of view…
“Israel and Palestine…”
“When I was in Ireland..”
“Remember the time…”
“She told me…”
“Don’t forget to bring…”
“See you in the morning..”
Snippets of conversation
Of which I am no part
And yet,
As I make my way
to the moonlit water
I understand
that I am part of
those conversations
for they are ageless.
Summer night gatherings
to be stored
in the treasury
of my heart
as timeless
as my beloved ocean.
Eve Remillard
6/13/2015
JULITA CHAVEZ
You were my shield
You were my story teller
You were my friend
You were my disciplinary
You were my sun
You were my moon
You were my wind
You were my rain
You never left me
You no longer around me
But you planted a seed in me
The turn me strong.
You gave me strength right
from the start.
You gave me confidence,
You thought to be independent and to have self confidence.
You thought me to see the world with new eyes.
You turn my negative into a positive.
You are my light when my life becomes dark.
Your prayers crossed ocean and reach me with blessing.
You gave me a fresh start.
You are the hero of myself love and independent.
Your sacrifices gave me a chance for a family of my own in a new land
Far away from home.
You’re my foundation
Your the roots of my family three.
Your DNA is my oxygen.
Your love gives me strength
They say you are delusional,
I say you are no longer cage in your brain. You are sensitive to your spirit and free at last.
I love you truly my dear
And I carry you in my soul just
like a tattoo.
I always have you
Grandma, just like a tattoo
—Meriyen Marquez Guerra Chavez