Monday Poetry Train #57

Alot of the grant work i'm doing has to be completed by end of the month so I'm (possibly) seeing light at the end of the tunnel. Also made decision to bring on another subcontractor to work on a new project - my cup overflowith. Writer's group meeting last night was great. Good feedback on the chapter and everyone seemed to enjoy the sex and the humor. Karin's new book "Granny Panties" is outstanding and I can't wait to see it published. Hope everyone is doing well! I'm honestly trying to squeeze in the time to pop by this week.
Heading to the doctor's this morning but hopefully have the evening off tonight. (That would be a nice change.)


Stumbling Thru the Bored-erlands

Is it really ME you want,
Is it really me you need,
Tangled like dust bunnies around your soul
My fingers stretching to touch the sacred depth of you
So afraid to let you go.

Am I just a flimsey construct,
An artistic collage of idealistic pretty, pretty pieces
Assembled in the darkest hour
As a place to store your tattered heart?

These moments of glaring silence
Grow longer and louder and harsher,
So I cannot help but read
My own sinking dread in them
Wondering what you really see when you look at me,
Or if you see me at all.

Where are the Borders,
Between creating what we want
And destroying what we are?
As I mourn you as lost already
Placing a sorrowful kiss on your lips
While my fingers attempt to cling
To the tumbling pieces
of what might have been.

Is it really ME you wanted,
Was I me you needed,
Or was the silence of lips sealed and eyes shuttered closed
Your way of trying not
to break my heart?


Hop on - anyone can join the train. No ticket needed.

Monday Poetry Train #55

I had a lovely mother's day weekend. I went to see Number One son graduate from college. He already has a job lined up making an impressive amount of money. Number two son (in grad studies) is home for the summer and I'm so happy to have him back. He got straight As on his report, which ain't no small thing when you're in grad school. Number 3 son was accepted to one of 35 spots in culinary school in Denver out of over 300 applicants. He gets his associate degree in Miami next weekend. And number 4 son is having a great high school year and is working for me this summer... poor boy. He's pretty excited. We'll see if he survives better than his brother did.
Happy belated mum's day to all the mothers out there.
Forgive me for pulling another old one but i wasn't around to write a new one. I do have a new poem in the works though. And i keep saying this but i do see thing getting less hectic by end of the month. My invoicables were double the normal amount when i calculated them last night. Yeah - i've been busting my ass.

Oh and I have to tell you, I read Bonnie Dee's latest book from Loose Id "Undeniable Magnetism" and it is one of my top ten favorites of the year so far. Wonderful, wonderful story.

Despair

The carrion birds have landed
to pick clean these tortured bones,
in the wasteland where I've fallen
claiming Despair, the name, my own.

No redemption from the Agony
of a soul shattered beyond repair,
even Death WON'T kiss these lips
to succor me from Despair.

No release lays in the bleeding
for the blood dried long ago,
the red Life mixed with tears
when i gave my Self to Sorrow.

My eyes see only emptiness
in tomorrows shadowed bleak,
where once danced dreams of love
where happiness seemed complete.

Go NOT seeking answers
among the pieces of your heart,
for Despair may lay you claim
and tear your world apart.

The carrion brides are feeding
in this wasteland of my soul,
there's NOTHING gained in knowledge
for Despair is all i know.

Monday Poetry Train #54

So this is how it is right now and why i haven't come up for air: 15 hour work days including through the weekend. I'm still working right now, but wanted to get this up since I have to get an extra early start in the morning. So here's a bit of nonsense... I feel like I've dig-danced myself into a hole. Sigh.

Mystery of the Worm Queen

I met the Queen of Worms
on the playground yesterday,
calling forth the little slimies
with a staff that she had made.

She sang them songs of yearning
to entice their heartless selves,
then plucked them from their gravies
to place them on her shelves.

She said she stored the darlings
in plastic, wood, and glass,
then consumed them for her dinner
from the first one to the last.

Though I thought her very odd
and her tastes were rather strange,
I decided not to judge her
or the games she liked to play.

For her eyes were full of happiness
and she was so self-content,
that envy seemed to wake in me
and I pondered what it meant.

Today I think I'll meet her
in the play place once again,
in the hope that she can teach me
all about her sluggish friends.

I foresee us both dig-dancing
in the playgrounds to survive,
content with our own substance
in the bedlam we call life.

Monday Poetry Train #54

Tiny Perspective

Sea of clouds, Neatly hoed
In orderly foaming white rows
Of insubstantial.

A gap, a peek and earth can be seen
Far below, like a secret escaped
For merely a moment.

Tiny people, with tiny lives
Scattered and Confused
Across the surface.

While far above the luminous shroud
More tiny souls
Ride the winds of deities.

Fragile life, Fragile earth, Fragile clouds –
To cushion a tiny heart
Should the winds of fortune fall.



Hop on - anyone can join the train. No ticket needed.

Monday Poetry Train #53

Sorry recycle time... hope everyone is doing well. i'm a little crazy but then you knew that.

The Heart of Forgiveness

Pluck the tattered remnants
of this grieving shroud,
from 'round my wearied shoulders -
its useless to me now.

Sewn from tears and heartache
and scoured in ill deceit,
it hid me from the world
but bound me to my grief.

Gaze locked in dullest shadow
I'd lost what I loved best,
a life of endless torment
was all that i had left.

I drowned my face in wishing wells
and begged the distant stars,
for miracles to rescue
the emptiness in my heart.

Then once again you smiled
with forgiveness in your eyes,
the tears that fell were cleansing -
renewed my love for life.

Guilty demons have released me
the lessons learned embraced:
that love and hope are precious
and the greatest gift is faith.


Hop on - anyone can join the train. No ticket needed.

Monday Poetry Train #52

Another old one - this one written for someone dear, but relevant for anyone, anytime.

Women We

Woman dreaming –
Her aspirations so simple
Wanting nothing more
Than love and joy:
To dance through life
With an enchanted smile.

Tears bleak and confused
Tear holes
As they wind through her life,
Was it really asking too much
To just be happy?

Choices made
With hope held high
And now the complications
Threaten
To bury her alive.

Where is the line
Between wrong and right –
Who’s fault is it anyway
When the bubble bursts
And everything
Falls apart?

No one told us
No one ever said,
That life could be so
Cruel –
Devouring alive
Even the simplest of dreams.


Hop on - anyone can join the train. No ticket needed.

New books out by fave authors - pimpage this week. And since I won't be at RT (sorry everyone - i'll explain in a post this week what happened) I want to wahoo everyone who is going.