Don’t Wait

 

Dedicated to Orlando!







Late in the evening it became the early morning hours

The satanic lion was prowling seeking whom he might devour.

Many people partying and enjoying life, the day was almost done.

Never in their minds did they dream they would not wake to see the sun.

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“Postpartum”

What makes one love another when their spindle

Spin opposite?

Is it the heart knows something the

Head can only fathom in theory and the

Soul pristinely comprehends, like God?

“Lure”

Hanging on the bough are a few rotting peaches.

I stare at them from my window as though they were

Beckoning me to see, to hear and to tell their story…

Browning under the sun and losing luster they cease to

Be appealing to the eye but my mouth waters at the smell

Of their odor coming from a high breeze blowing…

How did I forget to pick them? 

“Kitchen Maid At Ten”

(poetry prompt for “Imaginary Garden with Real Toads)

Pinched rustic sleeve pushed up,

Up above her elbow,

Zucchini green

Handkerchief ‘round her neck like a

Thick-skin absorbing the sour tang from heat~

“A White Ceramic Pot with Violets”

 [Landscape Prompt for Poetry Corner]

My eyes search my room full of the anointed-ness

Of my abundance!

There are closets-full of staples and essentials we

Women convert into vitals–

Tools to build an easier day-in and day-out living.

Screws and bolts and nails of all types to hold things

In place like muscle and sinew…

“Left Behind”

I have been what most call lonely

With no umbrella to share beneath the storm

And diseased with the leprosy of emptiness

That can be the greatest unwanted Cup

“Capitalizing On Others”

 Sometimes we write love in small letters –

Spreading the butter on his toast or

Wiping down the kitchen counter dabbed with

Peanut butter and jelly…

 Love is often dangling on the clothesline

And snatching a peek at a sleeping face;

It is the giving up and giving in

To another’s want with joy…

“Languishing Loneliness”

Loneliness is the wall between two gardens.

It can be as thick as a thousand years of solitude!

And tonight I feel the mortar of such mortems.

 

Loneliness is a migrating of life whose flight is a riveting descent.

I can’t unloose its claws or ascending cries!

It rumbles and rambles, it dips and drips,

it crouches and slouches like old, fragile shoulders.

“Mind versus Spirit”

We are all in the sad predicament

Of Lot’s wife

Wanting the tents of Babylon

And the flourishing of

Gold in our paltry hands

Knowing that right before

Our measuring eyes

“Flowering Morning-Steam”

Under the mercy of the

Slim slanted light,

And the yeast of the

Elfin probable,

Rose-blushes,

“GRANDMOTHER “

1913

a year I cannot recall like I do others.

I was not flesh yet, my soul still roosting in clouds.

1960

Daunting to think I could even saunter into her

Existence and claim her full attention,

But I did.

Birds… I understood her need for wings and

Song like wheat stalks bursting to be gleaned

And eaten meant for more than a sweet

Possibility.

“For He that Only Loves Me”

 

I am no Chopin, Liszt or Shubert.

These were heaven’s gift to man as far-off memories;

A breath that can only be taken once.

How gracious a Master for this edict of beauty!

Maybe I can never reach that star or sonata.

The falling adagio of a wistful cello at dusk’s rendezvous,

Or the impetuous bounty of Ravel that unlocks winter.

I will never heal a soul’s arching hunger for eternity.

But, I was not fashioned with this in mind.

My voice will never be an inviting fountain.

My image, no Venus or petal that scents your hand.

And, Xanadu was not my Designer’s destiny for me.

“What Sparkling Cider and Joplin Can Do”

The piano winks the notes from some

Invisible box,

And the tune wears soft frills and Chiffon

Like a sassy two-tone shoe kicking up

Gaiety and tipsy memories.

“Owning Easter”

 

I am more-and-less of my-Self

When sky visits the bent twig with light

And, roosts over the fresh pillar-like buds,

When the hillside bribes

The evensong with its starry-kissed charade

And, moon-cliff’s over this handful of crushed-dust!

photo google images

“Time And Tables”

I used to fit and figure out in your equation.

The acrobatics of Time being adequate

For work, chores and travel

Finessed itself

Between like dancing through a crowd of

A thousand left-footers…

“Worshipping” Easter prompt

pale and weary

the Soul of souls poled forth the

culmination of his life

as he ascended the hill

 a splinting cross

clutched upon his bleeding shoulder;

“With Mary at the Tomb” Easter Prompt

The milk and honey poured from His

Perfect and tamed lips…

 

Resting upon the shore and distant hills

His eyes rescued the withering souls

Who cried out and spoke

Son of David!

“Vallecula”

Butter-finger lips…

Insomniac r-e-l-e-a-s-e…

Too tight the flawless skin

Of your choice,

for the iron spike nail risk~

[loving this stricken structure]

“Presumptuous Spring”

How could you forget and toss

Me to the roadside

Like a drippy newspaper on

The front lawn?

“POUT”

I blushed

In rose-pink mischief

Beside the strawberry

And sugar-less dessert spelling

Fresh-feast.

 

*dVerse cinquain [2-4-6-8-2] poetry prompt

“A Sketch of Holiness”

Did you see indigo glory puncture

The sky, dropping daisy petals

over praying stout-stemmed heads

of glory-heavy wheat-fields?

“Only Once”

This song wings its way to you,

The most beautiful history of a love~

It is a love letter the wild wind paints

Over my voice, and will not find 

Its waiting empty mailbox~

“RISING TO THE OCCASION”

The birds sweetly sing to life.

They do not need any reason or rhyme.

They sing because it is natural, like the air.

They do not know weather or clime,

It is just what they do.

‘A Ten Minute Discourse”

It shined, it rained, it blew,

 Rock,

“Matthew 25:40″

There is Holiness in

Giving,

Imparting,

Sharing

From our loaf the leavening of God’s mercies to the hopeless

Miracle of the Seagulls”

[painting] Minerva Tiechart

Caught by the throat,The invisible hand of amazement

Shook her skirts then

Blew the sky upside down like a beautiful

Blue bowl~

Her torn sleeves flapped at the height of

the freighted  flight

And the swooping of gull wings…

Zigzagging feet danced jigs

On the green critters– a crop of hungry crickets~

She floated on their sweeping wild cries!

“Only After Having Loved”

        

         Paper thin,

         Aspersed window,

“Morning Prescription”

(Poetry Challenge 3)

 “You should see the sun this morning!

Which pain pill do you need, it’s seven?”

The blushing-pearly roses blurry

Seemed frostbitten~