Jul 31 2008
word play
you say
i say
the words
race my
spine
invade my
dark soft
places
shatter
composure
that was
a lie
the curtain
opens
to reveal
what you
want
to see
to be
to own
word play
you say
i say
whispers
frantic
immediate
wet
and sweet
singular
in their
passion
exclusive
in their
utterance
word play
you say
i say
copyright 2008
Jul 30 2008
If she could be
a butterfly
I know she’d
grab the chance
To sport herself
those lovely wings
to fly that dizzy dance
If she could be
a rainbow
splash colours
‘cross the bay
she’d take it up
this I know
and fingerpaint
the day
If she could
clothe the lonely
with her magic
pixie dust
they’d never feel
just only
for love of life
they’d lust
A sound, sound lass
she really truly
Sparkles
her love when cast
across the sky
does chase away
the darkels
And never for a
moment
should she ever doubt
that God has
made her special
to pour her loving
Out
copyright 2008
Jul 29 2008
I love the rain
because it is so easy
to hide there
between the drops
beneath the grey
Perched in the storm
like a ruffled robin
no fear of sunshine
to give me
away
Uttering my words
into the thunder
no one will hear them
not even God
Dreaming my heart
into the gutter
and watching it trickle
down the street
Laughing that no one knows
they step upon it
in it around it
and puddle me about
their shoes
then curse the weather
copyright 2008
Jul 28 2008
It weighs on my mind
heavily, like mud dried to boots
What I cannot bear to
think about, ponder rightly
No matter the course I
take, straight ahead or off to
the side
The truth eludes me like
a child playing hide and seek
in a dusty attic
hiding among the relics and
pretending to be
what it is not
The vanity mirror does not
reflect both sides
just one or the other
There is no meeting or
converging upon
a single image
A fun-house version
of what was once
between us, held each
other
up
I dig through the
drawers for the map that will
point me in the right
direction but it is
hyroglyphics and crumbling dust
in my hands
And as the light refracts
through crevice and crack
I am no further
illuminated.
copyright 2008
Jul 26 2008
I am the chubby girl
even when raife thin
a mere handful of bones
that couldn’t put a dent
in a hankie
A girl who had bosoms
long before she wanted them
or understood the
wandering gaze that
always landed there
Who climbed trees to
get a better look at
the world
and skinned her knees
on the way down
Who never believed
Beauty
resided in her face
whose hands are busy
with pens and inks
keyboards and paintbrushes
garden shears
and mystical
rhythyms that sound
in her head
Who worries her ass
as she passes shop windows
and denies herself chocolate
noodles and ice cream cones
who loves the way
flowers brighten her eyes
who smokes too much
and sleeps too little
Stalked by fashion police
and bulemic eyes
that covet her stout muscles
and brown summer skin
who cannot wear white
without spilling
cannot wear heels
without tripping
and treasures her shoes
and bags jammed
in a closet full of clothes
in three different sizes
Who will never agree
to her grace
and shies in the
glare of attention
who uses pen names
and hides behind poems
copyright 2008
Jul 25 2008
I cannot judge
your words by rules
for I never learnt them
nor cared to
I do not know if
the illiteration lilts or flails
if the syntax sings or croaks
if the form drapes with
a dancer’s fluid grace
or flops like a dying fish
I only know how
they make me feel
I only know if they
lift my heart
to the sun and beyond
I only know if they
speak to me
in a language strange
and beautiful
I only know if they
make me scream and
cry and giggle and guffaw
and tap my toe to a piper’s tune
not yet written
I only know if they
pour out of me
fast and furious
the words that have
been buried in the deep
in dark and delicious places
that open their eyes
like flower changelings
from exotica
Aye, that I know
And they
Do.
copyright 2008
Jul 24 2008
my dear friend, anonymum has bestowed a lovely award upon me. it is called the arte y pico. it is about the beauty that writers and artists have spread on the internet. i am so honoured and i thank you, more than you know, dear moe.
the award was started by ana and she makes very lovely, hand made dolls and even though her blog is in spanish, i can feel the strong and lovely energy there and feel her intent about the award. it was an act of love on her part i think and i find it all a very beautiful idea.
the rules dictate that i pass the award onto five more recipients whom i feel have created and given beauty to this world of electronic impulses and graphics and electrons.
my choices are:
all beautiful writers who i think strive to give at least some small piece of beauty back. i hope they will accept it and pass it on.
the rules:
1) pick 5 blogs that you consider deserving of this award; creativity, design, interesting material, and also a contributer to the blogger community, no matter of language.
2) each award has to have the name of the author and also a link to his or her blog to be visited by everyone.
3) each award-winning blog, has to show the award and put the name and link to the blog that has given her or him the award itself.
4) award-winning blog and the one who has given the prize have to show the link of Arte y pico so everyone will know the origin of this award {not in English btw}
5) show these rules.
Jul 23 2008
Oh! fly away man
of words
you make me laugh
great gobs of jolly
and mirth
You jeer me
and cheer me
and seed bouquets of words
not meant to grow in
the same soil
their verdant tendrils
reaching for heaven
finding mere earth
You catapult my thoughts
beyond their limits
over the stars and
to the lyrical gauzy world of
what if? why not? and will be
And I cannot feel
tethered or torn
old or pained in
your presence…
only watch my soul take
Wing
copyright 2008
Jul 16 2008
Weeds became
dragons and
warriors of the
dark
Clouds assumed
ghostly attitudes
posing aptly
and waving to
me
Strangers were
villians and thugs
neighbors unwitting
victims of same
Cats and dogs
were children sweeties
to be protected
dressed and
disciplined
Playmate…
my partners
in crime
detection
and make-believe
Daisy fields
my grand stage
for dancing
twirls
and heart broken
ballads sung to
stray cats
I mean, my
chidren….
Dark dank basement
a dungeon
that held my
captives when
lucky enough was I
to snare them
School
a prison to
stage many
escapes
poolside my
caribbean hide
away
My mind
the only
travel agent
I ever
Needed
copyright 2008
Jul 14 2008
There was a lonley writer
who tried to hawk her wares
but the people wouldn’t have it
and only gave her stares
She sang of deepest sorrows
and all that she held dear
and hankies did she borrow
to wipe away her tears
But then she had a vision
t’would solve her endless plight
with a simple act of fision
she’d make the problem right
She born herself a sister
a twin with golden tressess
who dazzled all the misters
in lovely gilded dresses
Who sang the writer’s verses
and fluttered shy, her lashes
to open, offered purses
and white-tooth smile flashes
And they went along for ages
playing kind deceit
the writer writing pages
for the other to repeat
Fame was in the offing
the writer knew it true
and what a pretty coffin
the sisters built in two’s
They didn’t think discovery
would ever come about
and never saw the hovering
of the wiley little lout
He’d taken all the pieces
and glued them one by one
industrious as the meeses
until the job was done
And when the laurel crown
was just within their grasp
he brought the sisters down
in one big sweeping gasp
They are not separate ladies
he yelled at top of voice
but just one clever maidy
who played a clever choice
The writer hung her head then
and thus removed her mask
it’s true, I’m not two women
but one who finally basks
So the moral of the story
is to always look below
what seems to be the glory
or never will you know.
copyright 2008
Words are the most powerful drug used by mankind.
—
