Blonde
She was blond
Held a camera
Was beautiful
Her face like a movie star
Or a model from the 70’s
She was interesting
She was smart
She was new to me
She was new to you
I feel gutted
Hiking through the woods, I use exercise to help heal a wounded heart.
Sweat takes my mind on a vacation from useless rumination and pain.
I stop for water.
Right before me, the earth has shared her scars with me.
Yet I see only inspiring beauty.
I plop down to ponder.
I feel gutted is one of my favorite British descriptions. So literal.
So powerful.
I study the huge reminder before me. A gaping hole from previously hard-packed stone.
If Mother Nature could get better, I can too.
I plow on ahead…
hoping I will be Mother Nature for the next observer in need.
The Ballad of Meowleen the Airship Pirate, pt. 2
One day Meowleen and her crew
Heard about a lab all new
Top-secret project of the miceSo it must be something really nice
“Fire up the engines, raise the steam!”
Was the pirates’ order from Meowleen
She waved her tail, looked at the sky
This heist would elevate her high
Among the pirates of Kittentown
Oh, if only she had known
What she soon will come to see
And everything that’s soon to be
The Quiet of the Church
As I sit and wait on the others
I wonder Did I miss the email?
Where are my fellow writers?
I know it’s summer…other plans?
Some are out of town
But there’s nearly 40 in our group;
So I sit and wait
Then pick up my pen and start to write.
Half an hour goes by
Still I’m here alone;
I start texting them
“Where are you?” I ask.
I pick up my pen again
Get involved in my storyline;
What? Another half hour?
The time has flown by.
The texts start coming in
Different reasons, same answer;
Yes, I miss my writing friends
But the quiet of the church…is inspiring.
11. Someone else’s father
Someone else’s father
I took a road trip once, with Death
trying to hitchhike in my sister’s car.
A broke-back Chevy, neon orange
from its former life, highway patrol car.
We should have turned right. Taken
the exit to Annapolis. But the maps
to that life were written somewhere else
and we took the turn for nowhere.
She drove us down a guttered street
no lights, no houses. Boarded windows
like blind eyes watching. Listening.
Stubborn as only two sisters can be
we kept on going. Drove to the end
of the road. And with our backs against
the wall, we spun 180.
Too dumb to be afraid, we did know
to be careful. So we pulled over
stopped at the familiar golden arches.
The tired man my father’s age walked
out to the car, showed us the way home
and warned us: white girls don’t come around here.
Go home. Death, that sly bastard, rolled his eyes.
Found someone else to ride with.
Thank you, someone else’s father. Thanks.
Ten times a man
You embraced me when you knew I’d given all that I had- and triumphed.
You gave me your precious time, unequivocally, when you realized I didn’t expect it- but needed it.
You encouraged me when your friends shunned me as inadequate.
You understood that I needed a friend above all else, and offered me your friendship.
You confided in me, because you suspected you could.
You are so clever I am frequently awe-struck; in the next breath you are just my friend again- yet you claim to be lacking in humility.
You value the love others give to you freely- helplessly, and bother to show them that you do.
You care about the whole world- genuinely care!
You have inspired so many by having the courage to be you.
You are brave and honest about your emotions even when you know others might ridicule you on account of your sexuality.
I hope you know, I wouldn’t change a thing about you.
Higher Self
Hour 11 – 4:00 PM
I’m more then a poet.
I’m more then a friend
I’m elastic, a listener, something to transcend.
A higher self I’m in search of in the end.
Have mercy on all these who have just began.
– J.C. ©
City Haiku
Dark roads, wet with rain
Ships pass me, music floats by
Dawn will never come
#11, Aaron
1
Heart like a grenade
Around you I’m liable to explode
Boom
There I go
Smashed into pieces
2
Your spirit animal should be a bulldog
Stubborn.
Pigheaded.
But lovable and sweet.
Like hugging a brick wall wrapped in cotton
3)
Strong. You are so strong.
Yet there is this tender soul under it all.
You let me in.
I let you in.
We are have intertwined. There will be no separating us now.
4)
You saved my life.
There was no point before there was you.
There would be no point after you.
5)
Your eyes burn golden in the afterglow
I love to watch them burn
Like I light you on fire from the inside out.
I wonder if my eyes burn blue at you.
I’m burning inside too.
6)
Gear everywhere
Gear and trash
Helmets and boots
Flashlights and scanners.
3am firecalls.
You steal my damn flip flops again
Smoke and sweat smell in my car for days.
7)
You have no idea that your worth is more than your father taught you.
You are digging your own hole of your insecurities under a blanket of his neglect and lies.
We could all drown in those lies.
8)
You love to be obnoxious and drive me crazy.
I put up a fight.
But I really love it because you only do it cause you love my reactions to things.
9)
You make me feel safe.
Like no one else.
Home.
10)
We walk hand in hand together.
There is no where else I would rather be than with you.
Love has taken me to you.
Forever.
She
One
She is Southern, in the style of Gone With The Wind.
But she is not not Scarlett, whose charm is greater than her beauty.
She is Melanie, concerned and sweet,
With all the graces and genuine beauty that Scarlett only pretends to have.
Two
She plays concert piano by ear
And drives an MG.
She is hopelessly in love,
With a young man whom even his friends
Call a stodgy old man.
They are both 18.
And then they are 20.
Three
An expected marriage
Two families join
And within four years
There are three more.
Four
The heartbreak
Takes her and her three
To a land far away
From the life they had known.
Five
The MG and the piano
Have been replaced by a sedan and typewriter
Her happiness has become
The happiness of her children
Six
A sailor a pirate
Takes them on an adventure
To a magical land of mountians and wet, green forests
But just for awhile.
Seven
She returns to the South
Her children in tow
Back to her roots
And back to her family.
Eight
One by one, the birds leave the nest
But still she worries over them
and cries for their tragedies
And laughs for their triumphs
Nine
In the twilight come more
Two girls and four boys
And lots of dogs and one cat
All of them her grandchildren
All are celebrations of her life.
Ten
All of the children of her life
Are who they are because of her.
And for her, this is her life’s fulfillment
The joy she feels for the sacrifices she she made,
For her, it has been worth it.
She is my mother, and her name is Angie.
© 2014 D. Edward Croy