Sunny Days
Hour 8 – 1:00 PM
Hop to the beat
Sun beams off my cheeks
Glory days are here left not to seek.
Rambunctious are few.
Cause we see the light.
Theres no need to stay down, and out of sight.
– J.C. ©
#8, My current location.
Soundlessly wandering the beaches of dreams
Grey waters sweep the sand out from under my feet and wash me away.
Do I give in or do I fight?
How much longer can I battle the ceaseless current.
It has no aching muscles that tire and fail. No bones to break and splinter.
No memory to forget, only oblivion.
White moon beach of my dreams. Like a Cheshire cat grins.
Pulling me with mystery. What waits on the other side?
I bleed my consciousness down to the last ounce. Suck every wonderful drop
Hazy eyelids droop. Wake and find a word.
Maybe two.
The dogs bark and skitter across the room. Awake again for a while,
The grin winks into the distance, but only for a bit.
It stalks from the shadows and corners of my mind.
Will you?
When?
When will we learn that different is beautiful?
When will we see with our hearts and not our eyes?
When will we read the character of the person with the discernment of our minds?
Will we ever see that peace brings healing and war festers?
Learn that kindness can be contagious even in the smallest of gestures?
Will someone, anyone, stand up, show up, grow up…….GIVE UP……The violence?
Will we stop killing our children?
When will we invest in our children, stop molesting our children?
When will color become the beauty its meant to be and not a distinguishing factor between who is better…..you? or me?
Will we ever see money as paper, and people with value?
Will you?
wolf
once upon a time
men spoke only in whispers
fear of wolves, shiver
they tried to blow the house down
buried. big, bad, backfire.
__ar.
(this is a tanka. also it’s hard to understand but let me know what you think it means? interested in hearing other people’s perspective since it’s not entirely clear.)
Pinnochio Loves Pistachios
But when he eats them
his nose grows long.
And though he fights
his appetite.
His nose grows longer
into the night.
Geppetto cries
inside a whale.
But a tickling feather
saves the day.
What we learn
from fairy-tales
is known to us
and really clear.
Don’t eat pistachios.
Stay out of whales.
And watch for fairy’s
everywhere.
Enigmas
Black cat, haughty, proud.
Staring through me, seems to know.
Tell me who you are?
poetic therapy
i will unlock the door that has been closed
i will free the monsters and the butterflies trying to escape
they will scare and beautify-
make some feel intimidated
while others will leap for joy.
i will bear my naked truths-explicitly
and you will all wonder who i really am.
you will dissect my soul as if i asked you to
when i merely needed to release-
to unburden myself,
free myself from the weight that i carry around in my head-
my neck, my shoulders, my heart, my stomach,
my legs and my thighs.
i will let it all go out from this secret place
and spread it all across the pages of my books-
until i can really feel-
really love again.
Cinderella.
Dust and rags and broomsticks,
She would wash and scrub and clean,
Under the wrath of two step sisters,
Who found joy in being mean,
And a plump fairy godmother,
With a crack upon her wand,
Dooming every spell she ever cast,
To go completely wrong,
A ball gown turned to tatters,
Two glass slippers turned to boots,
Out of place among the dresses,
And the gold embroidered suits,
She ran as time struck midnight,
Worried what else could go wrong,
Didn’t lose a single thing,
Her boots stayed firmly on,
So she ran and ran still further,
Until the sunlight filled the sky,
Not even pausing briefly,
To wave that horrid life goodbye,
She broke free from their judgment,
And hasn’t cared to look back since,
She doesn’t need their greedy longing,
And she doesn’t need a prince.
On My Way to Pick Up Lunch
I passed the flower seller’s
White van
Parked on the side of a
Six-lane road
Like it always is
On the weekend.
But today
Instead of sheltering in the shade
Of her blue awning,
She danced around the nearest light pole.
“Now that ought to move some orchids,”
I thought.
Kisses from Boreas
After some twenty of them
had been disposed of
during the waning moon
with costumes and masks and enchantments
he now wished he had not sacrificed his sons
laughing
they would never throw themselves down weeping
to die of grief
we have to rise
just as vegetation dies only to reappear in the springtime
what’s wrong with the way I kiss? Asked the winter wind
everything
i replied even as I thanked Boreas
in the deep of my heart
for the sweet relief from the smoke and flames
then it was
during the waxing moon
when costumes are removed
masks unmasked
enchantment is revealed
and winter is come