brainstorm
12 Jun 2011 28 Comments
for Bluebell Books Poetry Slam Week 3
the darkening clouds
move in like ground troops
controlling my sky,
stealing my sunshine.
the trees scream
and fight for their space,
but the darkness scurries in.
there is no room for light,
no place for the comfort of blue,
nowhere to run but into the storm.
my muscles tense and i wonder
if will it all consume me,
like the sky threatens to do
with each growing growl of thunder.
thanks jingle poetry! your support and enthuasium touches so many of us writers =)
18 May 2011 Leave a Comment
gain – inspired by photo below, for Blue Bell Books short story slam.
14 May 2011 6 Comments
the morning rose early, with wild green grass and tiny buzzing insects looking for a snack amongst the gathered crowd. the heat had yet to settle in, the dew was almost chilly. a breeze timidly moved in this was the day of the floating. the magical moment of beauty, the highlight of the summer in Alexander, Maryland. this is what they waited for.
lovers snuggled and old men drank coffee near hot air balloons that looked like wonder bread bags. excitement rose in the air against the august heat, which had come out of it’s hiding place and settled, like a blanket, upon the shoulders of the gathered people. something was finally about to happen. nothing ever happened in Alexander.
the mayor had won a contest, had written an essay that had gotten the tiny town the honor. 3 balloons were going to launch from the high school football field, and fly above town. passengers in the balloons included the mayor himself, and 6 raffle winners. they were allowed to bring cameras but not cell phones. all were excited, some were scared. this was an Adventure.
once they landed, on the same field, surrounded by townsfolk clapping and hooting, the riders stepped out. they had seen the world from a new distance; each individual underwent dramatic, unspeakable changes. they understood. on that day, they became a larger part of the world.
for jingle poetry potluck – a color poem =)
08 May 2011 9 Comments
Springing
the colors i feel on days like these
prove i should be alive.
the air is purple around me,
green static and yellows flash -
it is all real, hovering beyond
the point where you can see.
but in my cartoon world
the colors are brighter than
you ever made with a box of crayons -
my reds are filled in
with brushes.
i don’t expect you to understand,
and, anyway, if you did you
could steal my secret.
it is enough for you to know
i enjoy the colors of every day
enough for all of us -
just in case someone misses
the way the blue sky feels
upon their skin.
i spread the sunshine on
to anyone who will have it
so we can carry
on the color -
the world deserves to know.
cardinals
08 May 2011 12 Comments
nana has been sending a lot of birds these days,
and i’m sure it’s because she knows i need them.
it’s always unexpected, though i should
expect them by now, they cross my path
when my mind is blank.
i don’t believe the dead are watching us -
i’m sure they have better things to do
but i know that nana still sends me love,
and i know that sometimes love is
what i need to keep myself in this world.
red wings flit and flutter in front
of my car as i drive to work,
to meet friends, to run my errands -
it doesn’t matter what i’m doing -
it is springtime and
they are there and i feel like
i’ve gotten a hug from 20 years ago.
catharsis
08 May 2011 15 Comments
if you want to bring me flowers
be careful what you choose,
i can’t handle it when
they smell like a funeral.
maybe it comes from seeing
too many too early,
or maybe i’m just
too soft, sensitive,
sentimental,
easily injured, simply saddened.
i do my best to
hide behind daisies
and keep the smile strong
but sometimes the scent
seeps in.
this i know -
moments stick in my brain
like photographs
scattered in a scrapbook
glued among glitter by my own hand,
locked away by
smells or songs or
sensation – sentiments are strong.
sadness lives in
hidden pods within my brain,
pods that pop at
the strangest times,
releasing tears and wounds and blood and
memories held close.
i am sometimes strong enough
to handle them,
the waves wash me away
and my psyche is cleaned, cleared
by the release of my
toxic humors.
shipment
12 Mar 2011 6 Comments
the distant hum
of the highway lullaby is
the song that sings in the
back of my brain,
the tune that plays
behind my dreams.
passing trucks lull me to sleep
like they always have,
from some not so distant road
sometimes blocked by soundproof walls.
this is my natural habitat.
i have noise in my head and
motor oil in my nails,
pollution in my lungs
and city skylines on my skin.
i know too much
yet nothing at all,
and the times when the world makes sense
seem arbitrary.
but i can take it on,
i’m made from tougher stuff
than you can see -
and my skin is thick with scars.
the passing trucks
carry fear away
into the distant night,
and i exhale.
leaving utah
09 Mar 2011 8 Comments
in friendship, life, poetry
i look at the hell
and watch the tears,
i hold your hand and stroke your hair
as any sister deserves.
these are the times that
try our souls
and let us pull out
who we know we should be.
there were wrongs,
there were rights
and watching it all collapse in rubble
feels like autumn news.
things fall apart,
but we scar and grow stronger
and sit here and wonder
when things will change.
and you find her
exactly when you need her -
she is strong and
she is angry,
she will take you
where you need to go.
imitator
27 Feb 2011 9 Comments
in as it were, life, poetry
when the syrup soothes me on nights like these
the spirit moves moves me, through me
and i feel like someone else.
we have the memory of nights like these
when the moon was brighter and
air never held the weight of the world but
we held the lights
and the potential
we were the dreams and the words and the life,
we were all we ever needed.
days
09 Jul 2008 34 Comments
i keep track of these days
by the pills that i swallow
to delay my future,
to hold back the things that should come.
the days go by slowly but take forever,
the only agenda is one i set -
my goals are simple, self-imposed,
responsible and mundane.
i have visions of doing as i please
in this hot summer sun -
i picture a better me
dipping my toes in the writer’s pond,
seeking my answers where he found his,
leaving rocks upon the ruins of his cabin.
nobody ever said that any of this
would make sense,
would be easy -
i recall the opposite advice.
i hear my father’s words echoing
from the stove of his tiny kitchen
as many miles away as years,
all i can do is stay true to myself.
and my youth slips away to be wasted on those younger
as the universe intends, implies, imposes.
waiting, coping, holding on,
i pound the beliefs of others
into my aching head,
into my buried soul,
wishing i could believe in me
like they do,
wishing i had the eyes of those who love me,
because they see something real
between the words.
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