MAGPIE/ Prompt #75

                                                       photo/ tess kincaid

THANKS TO TESS, for Magpie Tales #75, intriguing as always...


TOUR de FRANCE

Passing lines of wheels,
the cycler wants nothing more
than the moon
that eclipses the world.

To win, then seduce some beauty
in the faun's afternoon.

Flying past epic landscapes,
companions in full array,
he rides over valley and copse,
to the wind up.

A vaporous procession on horseback
turns to look at whirling dust.
A phantom brandishes a sword.
Time slides.

Sweet rococo nymph
blows kisses
at the finish line.

An enchantress from a Fragonard,
she grasps a distant star
to crown the conquerer's fate.


copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2011


http://www.minblu.blogspot.com
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STAND-IN/ Short Story Slam 2

Short Story Slam- Week 2

STAND-IN

The first time I met John Wayne was at a seance.  Every Monday night my ex-husband's Aunt Tilda James and Uncle Brice James held a seance in the dim great room of their house in the Hollywood Hills.  That house has since slid into oblivion.  It happened many years ago, during one of the hugely violent mudslides that sealed the fate of most houses built on the precipice.

Uncle Brice was John Wayne's stand-in.  The above photo of stalwart, heroic John Wayne, was the last seen of him in that particular take.  He dismounted for a smoke, Uncle Brice rode off into the sunset, camera's on him.  Then shot in the back.  So it went.  Most of the time it was Uncle Brice who took it on the chin.

Ex and I had just arrived in L.A.  We checked into a motel, were young enough to to make plans for Disneyland.  And visit Jake's assorted relatives in the movie business.  A historical oddity, they were in Hollywood for ages, panning for the gold of stardom.  The highest the men got was as pals to the star, or stand-ins.  The women worked as receptionists.  Only Aunt Tilda James was used for her resemblance to Barbara Stanwyck.  It was those eyes.

They bought a haunted house on purpose.  For its connections to the other world, and its view, no matter how precipitous.  Aunt Tilda said she saw something very sensitive in me, and I would be an asset at a seance that night.  My only familiarity with ghosts was Casper.  I was quick in wanting out, already feeling creepy crawlies up my spine from the darkness in the afternoon and the creaking floors.  And then Uncle Brice mentioned that John Wayne would be there, a big fan of the netherworld shenanigans that were bound to surface.

Still haven't washed that spot on my cheek(ha ha) where John Wayne kissed me.  Anyway, after the initial summoning of spirits, I saw a shape shifter fly across the room, my Ex kept giggling and John Wayne fell asleep.

copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2011


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

MAGPIE/ Prompt #44

                                        photo/ willow/ Magpie Tales #44


SLEIGH RIDE

It looked like a hill to me,
a cement sidewalk slanting down to Lydig.
In the summertime I skated
beside the apartment buildings,
starting atop Brady Av,
speeding along Wallace,
passing my building on the corner,
and stopping to unbuckle my skates
for an ice cream when I reached Good Humor.

The metal wheels came to a stop
when I fell or bumped into one of the old ladies
folding her wooden chair,
even sometimes my very own grandmother,
chair in hand yelling, you're going to kill yourself,
who goes so fast, are you crazy?
All in English and Russian and
what was she talking about?

But when the snow piled on the sidewalk,
just around THE HOLIDAYS!!
I pulled my sled out of the creepy storage bin
in the basement of my building,
heard a noise that sounded
like my heart beat
in that pile of Mama's junk.

I grabbed the wooden sled,
caught a splinter right away,
sucked the blood and spit it out,
pulled my Flyer into snowy daylight,
to the top of the hill, my winter paradise,
and away I went, no old ladies in my way,
all sitting at their windows
sipping a glass of hot tea.

maybe dreaming of a sleigh ride
that took them to streets paved with gold,

the way I am today,
and never coming back
once I hit the first star.


@copyright/all rights reserved/ 2010


Thanks, once again, Willow, for lighting my fire!!  Poetry lives!!  Magpie, forever!!


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HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY !

                                   A garden in The Bronx, NYC.  14 years old.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY,

to: 

My Mom.  

Who did she think she was? 

Looks like the first supermodel to me!

            Always a star in her own mind!

To all "Mother and Child reunions"....

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http://twitter.com/lynxny