Monday, January 27, 2014

MAGPIE...Prompt #204

                                  THE MILL, 1964/ Andrew Wyeth

THANK YOU, Tess at Magpie Tales


What stayed when you left?
Winter's revenge,
Loki's sting, an imp
doing handstands
on a frozen heart.

I'm tricked out
in saint's day regalia,
spinning snow angels
in the courtyard.

I find an improbable note
in a dead sparrow's mouth,

that spring,
beyond doubt,
lies beneath drab endings.

Pandora's box
sits on my hip,
emptied and icy,
lid up, without content.

I'm dreaming 
that a bit of sin
is hiding in the corner,
stirring up a pinch of heat
for your return.

copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2014

Monday, January 20, 2014

MAGPIE...Prompt #203

                                       MUSICIAN in the RAIN/ Robert Doisneau

THANK YOU, Tess...for Magpie Tales


Easy to find blue notes today,
when the sky spreads
an electric ambiguity,
and chiaroscuro
sketches the clouds.

No shelter
can shield me
from a pounding
ancient god
singing bass.

The air hums
a Broadway melody,
tells the reason why
heaven chose us
to keep the beat,
to fancy a dance
in the storm.

I put my tongue out,
catch a drop,
drink the answer,
the music of rain,
the rain of music.

Copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2014

Monday, January 13, 2014

MAGPIE...Prompt #202

                                                     LA JUMENT/ photo/ Jean Guichard

THANK YOU, Tess...for Magpie Tales....


Right into the roiling pot,
into the mouth of the whirlpool,
pasta will meet its destiny.

The water parts
like a biblical sea.

A salty reception
whips onto a frenzy,

as strands of lean beauties,
straight as straw,

fold into a fated
al dente perfection.

copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2014

Monday, January 6, 2014

MAGPIE...Prompt #201

                                                NEW YORK at NIGHT/ Vivienne Gucwa

THANK YOU, Magpie Tales


In a silver drizzle
we seem the same.
Some mistake me 
for a Mayfly.
Here today, cliche' tomorrow.

Well, no,
my wings are not yet
curled in prayer,
in a plea
for one more dawn,
half my life in supplication,
the rest in fancy.

I'm a Firefly, after all,
invisible at sunrise,
but a delight
in the nightfall garden.

I'm here in the dew,
there in the rose,
and suddenly
setting fire 
to that distant heart.

Caught in a jar,
set out on the grass,
I will light the way,

become part of the parade
to a galaxy unknown.

Copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2014


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