KERRY'S WEDNESDAY CHALLENGE/ Prose Poetry

                                 
                                                  Falling Woman/ Picasso

WHAT A LUCKY MORNING, to have found Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads.  This is Kerry's Wednesday Challenge/ Prose Poetry.   Looking forward to jumping in!!  Will try to link up later...fingers crossed!!

LET THE GROUND TREMBLE

          Take your hands away, don't grasp me, grasp my meaning, not my flesh.
          Was warm beneath the covers till you pushed the tale away.  You scuttled through a slit in time, squaring the black hole, bouncing and giggling, with echoes that run back to my heart.

          I become visible, again I see a lush garden.  Not again, not again.  The ground trembles with your rushing strides.  To me?  Away?

          Again attracted by the way I weave, you are always the tear.  I'm the thread.


copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2011

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MAGPIE/ Prompt #91

A MYSTERIOUS PHOTO points me in the direction of a Pantoum...thanks to Tess Kincaid at Magpie Tales.


FOLLOW ME
Follow me,
take any chair you wish,
you're the first to arrive.
But why so early?

Take any chair you wish,
I can feel your bated breath,
but why so early?
Your heart's beating a tattoo.

I can feel your bated breath,
a damp anticipation.
Your heart's beating a tattoo.
Stay.

A damp anticipation,
here's what you came for.
Stay.
Crowd's already rushing.

Here's what you came for,
footsteps in the sand,
crowd's already rushing,
darting here and there.

Footsteps in the sand,
you're the first to arrive,
darting here and there.
Follow me.


copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2011

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MAGPIE/ Prompt #81

                                                       Photo/ Tess Kincaid

 

SO HAPPY TO BE ABLE TO REJOIN Magpie/ Prompt #81  Hope to stay a while...thank you Tess, for the inspiration!

 

FOR WHOM?

To what purpose

are the crushed left to be observed,

for whom is this lesson?

I prefer that all archaic,

useless geometry,

be blown away.

Why stop to examine the broken,

as if we can see the heart

in each stone?

Sooner to dust

rather than later,

a flow of breath can free me

from watching decay

go on.

 

Copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2011

 

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MAGPIE/ Prompt #42

William Bouguereau  1825- 1905

THANKS

This year, I don't have to dig into any cliche' to come up with a reason to give thanks.  For the last 3 1/2 years I have been on the outside looking in... mostly at festivities..all those folks..they sure seem to be having a good time!  Turkey, trimmings...Christmas bells, trees...Easter flowers, Resurrection...I've watched, tearing at the heart on my sleeve...return to me, please, less craziness, please!

I do believe in miracles, but not necessarily for me.  I had given up hope.  But I think just a tiny bit of it clung, hidden, like lint.  In of all places, my heart.  So that when the prayer is answered, joy is found immediately, and you know how to use it.

The other day, I was reunited with my 12 year old granddaughter, after 3 1/2 years of being lost to each other.  I believed that the moment would never arrive for us to be together again.  So that out of the cliche' of a clear blue sky, I received that phone call where I pinched myself, and learned to walk on air.

Here is the cup that runneth over..It's filled with justice and fairness, for all our lives.  In return, may we give kindness and love.  Even if you haven't had a miracle lately, it's good to know that someone out there has!

                                              photo/ willow/ magpie tales

Happy Thanksgiving.....a very big thank you.


Thanks, Willow, this Magpie prompt led me in an interesting direction..


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Message...

BETTER LATE than never...good cliche'.  This one's for ONE STOP POETRY  /  One Shot Wednesday...WHERE DO THE DAYS GO?  I meant to get an earlier start..I recommend that you read all the splendid poems entered on that site..onward and upward with the arts!!

MESSAGE

Today I saw a message

reappear in the sand.

I thought a wave

had taken it forever.

Didn't know

that I could catch

time reverse.

Me dreaming?

Maybe not.

It said, say thank you

for your life.

Be grateful

for all effects,

chew the gristle,

die in a dungeon

dance in the red shoes

that bled me.

And I did.

I called my life wonderful.

I scraped the ache off my heart,

like mud off a tattered shoe.

Soul is what stays.

Always say thank you

for the speck that starts a life,

else you would never be here.

c copyright/all rights reserved/ 2010

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Building A Beach...

THE  CHOICE FOR THIS MONDAY'S POETRY POTLUCK, OFFERED BY JINGLE, at Jingle Poetry, is to write a poem about BEACHES or MOUNTAINS.  The stuff of dreams...


BUILDING A BEACH

I'm building a beach on top of my bed,
pouring a pail of blistering sand,
composing a dune
with sea grass swaying,

tilting my face to take in the sun,
hearing the pulse of the ocean
absorb the beat of my heart.

I kick some shells
as if that was sport,
brush a flutter
buzzing next to my ear,
an emissary from actuality

trying to convince me
that I'm just dreaming of August.

As I roll over to let the radiance
burnish my legs,
a floorboard creaks,
cat ready to pounce,
summoning me to awaken
and tend to my day...

Monday, go away.


c copyright/all rights reserved/2010

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Hawk....

HAIKU

My soul a feather
of the white hawk that defends
a full, drumming heart.


This is my first submission to One Shot Wednesday.  Anything that gets me to write more poetry is OK in my book.  So thanks to those who clued me in. Will try to make you proud.  And bloggers, this site's for you!!  Go to the One Shot site for details, please...


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http://www.minblu.blogspot.com/
http://twitter.com/lynxny

MAGPIE/ Prompt #28

photo/ willow/magpie tales

PRELUDE

   Norman Bates fell in love.  Her name was Bonnie.  He tested her name.  What a nice name.  What a nice Mrs. Bates she would make.  Bonnie Bates.  It just rolled off his tongue.  Bonnie Bates.  Not as nice as Mommy's name.  Of course.  Not as nice as Betty Bates.  Of course.  But sort of like part of a song.  Bonnie Bates.  Betty Bates.  His Mom asked him what he was humming.  Just a song I'm making up Mommy, sort of a love song, you know.

   Bonnie was in his senior class and Norman sent her messages that hovered over her head.  Peonies and pierced red hearts, he prayed the powers above would let his love drop into her virgin mind.  Bonnie knew that she would be his bride.  Norman could tell by how she blushed.

   Bonnie came to the Bates Motel.  Norman asked her to wave to Mommy, rocking at the front window.  Dust filtered the view.  There she sat every afternoon.  Her favorite place before the sun went down, and Norman helped her to her room.  But tonight would be different.  Tonight Norman would introduce her to his bride.

   He shifted his weight to open the door, and carried Bonnie across the threshold.  Mommy, he called, I have a surprise for you.

   Heart pounding in anticipation of their honeymoon, Norman had in mind a special treat for his bride.  He hastened up the stairs to prepare a bath for Bonnie Bates.

   Wash away any sins, little Bonnie; he hummed a new part of his song.  He placed her in the bubbles, let her feet rise to the rim, polished her toes like he did Mommy's, and sang the rest of the song.  Bonnie Bates, Bonnie Bates.  Not as nice as Mommy.  Not as nice as Betty Bates.

Once again, thank you Willow for this prompt.  We never know when inspiration will raise its lovely head!!  Please attend to all the other Magpies!!!

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Encounter

WORTHY

X

Don't cling to me

as you take me from the earth,

flattering me about my rosy tint,

x

inhaling my heart

then flinging me into your winter garden,

to read my petals on a wistful day.

x

Don't wrench away a coy bud

I've hidden

beneath a well placed thorn,

x

to give me up,

as if I were a beast impounded

and not a rose.

x

I'll start again

as dreams come into flower,

x

and let the earth embrace

what it comes upon

in me.

x

x

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Looking...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxRENUNCIATION

X

I pull aside the morning curtain.

My childhood face floats by,

stares back and drifts,

x

lost without a beating heart.

x

Watch that little soul pour down the cliff,

a waterfall spilling out to cure the drought.

x

Her center gone, mislead

by those whose words deceived,

she learned to weave an ornate tale,

x

then settled like dust

in the evening shadows,

clutching a spray of conclusions

until

x

the noon day sun,

spun by time,

comes into sight

to give me strength,

x

makes it possible

to stand in ruby slippers,

to own the place my feet will tread,

x

be friends again with perception,

and wave good-bye to things that pass.

x

x

c copyright/ all rights reserved

x

x

...of the day...

PRAYER FOR GOD'S GUIDANCE

X

God be in my head, and in my understanding,

God be in mine eyes, and in my looking,

God be in my mouth, and in my speaking,

God be in my heart, and in my thinking,

God be at mine end, and at my departing.

x

Source: Sarum Primer, 16th Century

x

For friends who have left too swiftly....

x

x

thanks to Beliefnet.com