October '17 Poetry Project

Intrigue

October 31, 2017






My words were but a litter of letters all tiny timid and trembling
Yearning to be coaxed out of hiding and nuzzled 
Safe and seen in the silence 
They wriggle and purr
Entertaining possibilities once unsaid now
Running wild around the room
I want to play with them
Our glaring truths
Unfold 
Secret tails



Acrostic poem based on today's final prompt 



Image Courtesy of The IPKat 

October '17 Poetry Project

Pareidolia

October 30, 2017



my garden grows
 the very best 
of intentions
all lined up 
along the road to hell

Lust and dust
mix and mingle
in the histories

I lurk
like the spider stalking
a fly carcass 
crackling on the web
waiting watching wanting 

to remain ignorant
savor trust
like salted caramel
melting on my tongue

or to take the bait
 and bite down
hard
on the truth

This knowing fruit

sours
the soup
stiffens
scum into skin

on the surface
I see the face 
of broken promises
in the grey pucker


OctPoWriMo 2017 Day 30





Photo Credit: Andrey Bobir https://www.artstation.com/andrey_bobir

October '17 Poetry Project

Fearful Symmetries

October 29, 2017


Out of the black
bodies
emerge
into light
then
retreat
as the strings and wind 
wind around
our view
into this place

blind
connections
rushing
towards
the edge

so close
you can hear 
the heavy
hungry gasp
holding on to each moment
as if it were the last
chance
to breathe


Image credit:  Jahna Frantziskonis and Max Cauthorn in Scarlett’s Fearful Symmetries.

© Erik Tomasson

October '17 Poetry Project

Bardo

October 28, 2017




That place
where the rug
or in my case
the road
is pulled out
from under
foot

where I wander
wondering
if I should do something
anything
different

train
write
work
race
love

How much do I give
before I give
up
out
of the blue
landing
on the sidewalk
again
not knowing
how or why

I rest
resistance
on the curb

and pick 
myself
up
and
move
on




October '17 Poetry Project

Smoking with Vincent

October 26, 2017



I was eight
when I started sleepwalking
through life
though it was more 
a crossing over 
my body
my mind
would run wild circles
dreams
on display
for everyone to see

Doctor prescribed

the hot sweet cinnamon
a nightly shot
to calm
my mother's nerves 
and keep me still
under the sheets
spiders scampering 
on the ceiling
they would crawl down
and nest 
in my gaping mouth

When I woke next

I was 22
riding the green dragon
 tendrils of smoke wafting around my head
running wild circles
around the rubble
of what was
my world
now shaken
down
to the foundation

I found my soul

in a palette 
of Viridian
and raw umber light
my skin
a cremnitz white

I  stippled

brushed
and
knived
slices
through
torrent
thoughts
stirring
up
the urge to bang the bongo
and howl
at the harvest moon

I was 25

when they took me
down
the echoing 
lithium hallways

I slowed

and swelled
as the plaster of my life
dampened

my colors
now
cut and dried
flading
flaking

forgotten









Skull with Burning Cigarette - Vincent Van Gogh
Image Credit: Reddit Cinemagraphs


* Based loosenly on a work of fiction in progress - Van Gogh Latte.

October '17 Poetry Project

The Taste of Words

October 25, 2017






Words
they sustain me
define me
contain me
surround me
and I am always
craving more


 words
while walking the Seine
in the shortgrey days
while passing the time staring at passersby
the warm detachment of a rustic red
wrapped around me
a woolen red scarf
while sitting before you
you between my legs
the buttersoft leather
on my bare breasts

these taste of the deep unctous
chocolate of me
it pools under
my tongue
and
lingers
long
after I swallow

words
while hurling a life
once shared
into garbage bags
into the ramshakled rusted
notion of what could have been
but would never be

these taste of the acrid scald
of bile and spoilt milk
it burns
coming out
going in
heaving
spilling
regret
I was told not to cry over

words
sung to me
while in the shower
you leaned into me
and spoke
breathless
lyrics
into my mouth
I drank these down
not noticing
the water
running
cold

These taste of mango
and angel cake
I lick
my lips
forever
wanting
more

words



October '17 Poetry Project

La Vita es un Carnaval?

October 24, 2017




We walked the streets
of Florence
in the biting breezes
of a new year
still cutting her teeth

I followed you
through passage
and cobbled histories
along long lingering loyalties

bridging
between 
boyfriend
and
friend
both twice removed

We 
danced
until dawn
stretched through 
the piazza
with a yawn
of light

Stumbling into
your one room
your one bed
your one question
Could I 
keep
it
this scorching darkness
between us
just us

My answer
strong and spirited
like the Caffè corretto
slowly sipped
the morning after




OctPoWriMo 17 Day 24

Photo Credit: Jennifer Astramowicz  "La Vita es un carnival"

October '17 Poetry Project

Mixed Messages

October 23, 2017







Love
itches
my skin
my arms 
are blooming
age spots
along
the scars
from years 
of trying to find
comfort
beneath
the surface

nothing 
left
but
a faint white
line

the remains 
of dragging the bow
between
the strings




OctPoWriMo 17 Day 23

*Image Credit: http://www.tattoolove.org

October '16 Poetry Project

Meandering Bliss

October 22, 2017




Swinging
back and forth
thoughts
and
songs
on repeat

my first ballet
toehead in a tutu
touching the top
of my head
with my toes

Sapphire needle dreams
pirouetting
33 13 rpm
around my penché perfect six year old world

My lifelong friends
Chopin, Tchaikovsky and Bach
keep me 
good company

We met once
 in Paris
for a clandestine
rehearsal
my breath halted
my heart
flic-flacs
in time with
the rosin dusted 
pointe
of view

In my other life
my six foot self
stood en pointe
at center stage
performing
a pas de deux 
with one who would 
support me
lift me
catch me

This life
is about
box seats
and bubbles
and
Parlor pas de bourrée couru

I am at best 
a living room ballerina




OctPoWriMo 17 Day 22

Photograph By Scott Martinez 

October '17 Poetry Project

A la carte

October 21, 2017




The Gamine
she serves no salmon
just lonely thoughts
swimming upstream
to my heart space
Will they spawn
inspiration
or will they settle
into sediment
for bottom feeders
to grow on

Words are tight
remaining coiled
curled under
my daily life
grind
unto a hopeful
reach
I need to stretch

across the page

A half pour
is a good thing
but now
at the bottom
of the glass
the page
I ache with want

Self Control
a bone honed
skill
to belay
my fall









October '17 Poetry Project

Ashes After the Rain

October 20, 2017



So
Haunting
the memories 
of wanting
you

I still feel
the twinge tingling
the fluttering beat
the rung out
core of my being
desperate
for you

You stared 
back at me
as if you knew my thoughts
your plump plum lips
ripe for the tasting
Your words
an invitation 
unanswered

Your hand
rough and warm
offered to me
as proof
My fingertips
would graze over
until 
they entwined
with yours
holding
still
holding
back
holding the secret
for just a moment longer

Oh how I was filled
to my edges
my walls
swelled
with want
for you

I am
helpless
here
there is no washing away
the  eager evidence
of my longing

Longing clings like ashes
after the rain




October '17 Poetry Project

Vulpes

October 19, 2017



Skulking
about

Fox News
twists their tales

They whine and Bark
their agenda
and
piss on trees


The leash
lands
hard
in the hole
and assumes
the position
defending its claim

Watching us
dance again
just in  4
4
 time

as
the III 
looms
large

we foxtrot 
around the hurdles
quickstep
the
catch

Wonder
Perhaps it is 
finally
time
for
crafty action

end the orange seige
with the tempered touch 
of
a lady's glove

Perhaps then
we will be safe
in our deep knowing den

The Earth
can be trusted

The Earth
takes all secrets
to the grave







“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye”. The Fox, Le Petit Prince – Antoine de Saint Exupery

*A group of foxes is referred to as a skulk, leash, or earth.[3][4]
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fox



October '17 Poetry Project

Acedia

October 18, 2017




I witnessed
a murder
today

Idly sitting
 sipping tea
staring off towards
nothing
my vision
blurred
by daydreams


I stood
up slowly
a yawning reach
towards 
nothing in particular

the desultory
view
through
the smeard hazy glass

Catching
a glance
of the crime 
seen
below 
me

My cool fingers
curled around 
the smooth bone china cup
as I watched

when they mobbed
the brown one
when they slammed her down
to the grease stained
sidewalk
taking turns
kicking and twisting
her body

For the tiniest moment
I wondered...
what was she doing here?
She does not belong here...
Did they attack her 
because her kind
has destroyed 
their homes
their families
taken the lives of their children
in the maw of her own beliefs?
Does that justify
the murderous actions?

Self preservation a serpant 
swallowing its tale

I shrug
turning away
to get more tea




Revised version.  

October '17 Poetry Project

Dracarys

October 17, 2017





And the dragon chose
the first words
with eager hesitation
and wonder

his
flickering flame 
licked
the space
wide open

where
tingle chill
nipping breeze
seeped in
under the glass pane

Will we
wander off
where words
wild and wicked

arc and soar

surface
and 
swirl

like  dragon smoke
On to the page

His choice
He insists

is only

An invitation
to fly





Image :A Black Dragon writing at a Podium Credit: http://www.flux.utah.edu/~aclement/templair/collection/





October '17 Poetry Project

Losing Fears

October 16, 2017





My dark hours
are twisted
around
the realization
that I am
bound
to where I am
where I have been
and where I want to be

My limbs
constrained
restrained to the dread

I am off balance
falling
often
towards
the hard
conclusion
that things are not in alignment

Falls and fallings out
find me

I do not want
to seek
familiar
suffering
surging in
on the shadows

I wear a cloak
morbid
and
heavy
slung
low
across my shoulders
as though
I am both
the betrayer
and
the exposed

Here
fear
knows
my name

So
I turn
tales
and
run
word
wild
the
other
way
all
the
way
back
to
myself

 I am
pulled
by the deep moss
green intentions
and soft hope
under my feet




OctPoWriMo 17 Day 16

Photo Courtesy of Julianne Kanzaki

October '17 Poetry Project

Greenstick Fracture

October 15, 2017





my reaching arms
ache
as
if
they
were
callow
branch
bent
back
and 
forth
until 
frayed
but
not
broken

my reaching heart
aches
as 
if
it
were
once
cupped
gently
in
warm
hope
and
abruptly
dropped
to 
the
cold
linoleum
floor
and
forgotten

Still strong
Still beating
Still loving

I remain unbroken


OctPoWriMo 17 Day 15








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