Monday, April 30, 2012

Like That 4-16-2012




It's raining AND it's Monday...

what a combination but it is spring.

The sun is just reclusive, a typical artist.

Reluctant to shine or show off…

must be a self-esteem issue

as some days are bright and cheery

when belief in self soars.

Perhaps allergies are the cause

of moisture… seasonal itching,

red eyes, sneezing, sore throat –

who wants to be seen like that.



4/16/2012

Sliver 4-15-2012



Hers was not a heartwarming story.

Just another voiceless soul accepting
a vaporous existence, dull, boringly dull…
not like her life before her parents died.
Traveling under their wings, her under developed
skills never matured to sustain herself without them.
Her tree didn’t make a sound when
crashing to the ground; the tree trimmer
wore heavy ear protectors and the neighbors…
they didn’t care for the eyesore of her youth.
The tree fort had been built by her father;
smashed to bits, the sturdy splinters exploded
upon impact sending one through her heart.
Sawing and trimming the branches, the worker
couldn’t hear her gasping clutching her release…
a sliver of 2X4 kiln dried pine wood.


4/15/2012

Lobster Red 4-14-2012

Lobster Red


Waxy white, pale as cream,


naked legs displayed in shorts

burn indecent images on retinas

whenever the temperature reaches 60 degrees.

Warm weather gear’s rare appearance

confused many still coated in Gore-Tex.

They scanned the sky warily as if the sun was minutes

from disappearing behind solid gray banks

skirting the Pacific, heading inland to swallow

blue sky and disgorgingsquall fits.

Always ready for the next soaking, these

hardy souls squinted in the unusual glare

still layered for protection; others so carefree,

exposed snow white appendages.

Wonder how many sunburns made

geeky white legs turn lobster red?


4/14/2012

Spring Wings 4-13-2012



Sat in the sun for a few minutes

neutralized the so sick of winter chant.
Today felt like the first day of spring.
Sun warmed bones;
leaves unfurled from tight bonds…
sap was on the rise.
Aches and pains unfurled;
sun warmed hope rose
carried on wings of merry sparrows.


4/13/2012

Revision 4-12-2012

Flicks of scissor-ed words dismissed
as ungrateful joined the others having

been determined to be useless,
extravagant, unnecessary, too weighty.
Her vigilant mind scoured the remaining phrases
arranged on the dining room table.
Summer evening cooled turning into night…
preceding a storm, the breeze scattered her story;
racing before the rain, phrases slide across the floor.
The winnowed contents successfully revised…
4/12/2012
Inspiration: Eudora Welty born in Jackson, Mississippi (1909). She wrote several novels, including The Optimist's Daughter (1972), but she's best known for her short stories, which she wrote, rewrote, and revised by cutting them apart with scissors at the dining-room table. Writer's Almanac

Safety Net 4-11-2012

Every now and then you come up
from the acceptable muck you’re stuck in.
Rising up above well inhabited habits,
accessing a vicarious freedom
before settling back into known comfort.
The comfortable known… a risk free safety net.

4/11/2012

Behind 4-10-2012

Behind



Take me… seriously? Why did I even apply?

Coated in dog and cat fur,

extra texture added to my black fleece hoodie;

the pilling exterior impossible to remove too.

Her eye skirts my surface noting causal attire:

jeans, t-shirt, fleece hoodie – worn but clean.

Leaving my plump form [also worn but clean],

her eyes slip to another who is neater but less original.

A façade similar to clothing and make-up advertisements,

this one looks normal even clone-ish to her own style.

Rejection waltzes my way; the fur drifts on currents

settling on the less than original décor leaving my trace behind.



4/10/2012