Monday, September 15, 2014

Perspective

I stub my toe and curse
at the pebble in my path

She looks up but can’t see
the top of the mountain
before her

Same track,
different journeys


Written in response to a prompt/ challenge from a fellow poet.

Thursday, September 11, 2014

No, Really

I don’t mind.
No, I’m fine
…and with so much to do.

So I got up and left, as if I believed you.


Izzy asked us to write something about a lie we could have told better.  So here are is a poem about a couple of liars for Real Toads

Thursday, August 28, 2014

Weird

    Photo by Mary Bach

When we meet I am always amazed -
Each time you and
I seem to mesh, to complete one another,
resplendent in the sun and the fun of our uniqueness, yet together a
dynamo of strangeness and largess, suddenly no longer repressed, able to express our

weirdness!


Mama Zen over at the Imaginary Garden asked us toads to write about being weird.  So, this is my weird offering, dediated to my weird friend Lori, who visited recently from her home in Macau.  

Monday, August 18, 2014

Voyage


 
     Yell Sound, Shetland by R. A. D. Stainforth


Climb aboard!
We sail away today,
over oceans deep and wild and wide,
out, and out, league after league toward the horizon
under endless slate grey skies, rain-kissed,                                  
cloud-tumbled, sun-pierced or
star-riddled.
And all we know recedes,
all the firm, green predictable things
recede as we traverse over oceans toward
the strange terrain of dream and fable.
Unknown wonders await;
climb aboard!


The picture is complements of Magpie Tales.  The form is from Imaginary Garden w/ Real ToadsIn its simplest form, the Triquain consists of seven lines, with syllables counted in multiples of 3.
3 - 6 - 9 - 12 - 9 - 6 - 3
The trick thereafter is in deciding how many of these stanzas you want to use.  There are several described, and I chose one called   Triquain Swirl.  This is created by joining the stanzas together on the seventh line, eliminating the second 3 syllable line and the space between stanzas. The finished stanza will stand at 13 lines and may be repeated thereafter.
3 - 6 - 9 - 12 - 9 - 6 - 3 - 6 - 9 - 12 - 9 - 6 - 3 
Also, one can include an element of repetition in the Swirl by taking a 3 syllable word or phrase from one of the longer lines and using it as the final 3 syllable line of the stanza or at the bridge of the swirl. 



Sunday, August 3, 2014

When Cowgirls Git Over Their Blues

    Elizabeth Taylor, set of "Giant" by Frank Worth

Life’s a rodeo
life’s a desert
life’s a sand burr
under yer saddle
life’s a hot stinkin’ sun
burnin’ the back a yer stiff, red neck
life’s a hot, sweaty sonofabitch
full’a bullshit n’ Copenhagen.

Imma rope you up
real good 
cowboy.
And I ain’t talkin’ no
eight seconds.


55 for all the Toads in the Imaginary Garden and all the Magpies at The Mag.

Monday, July 28, 2014

Queen of the Stone Age

     Museum by Tess Kincaid

Let us not concoct
healing potions for the dead,
nor invent
new colours
for blind eyes.
     -Hilda Doolittle

I dream
that I am on display
I have no privacy
except inside my own mind.
So I go about building an
inner life of vast spaces
empty of people
with wind and sun and
nightjars
singing me into bed.
Meanwhile
I stare blindly past
the gawking people
past the marble floors
glass doors
past the
streetfuls of cars and crowds,
buildings, bridges
mountain ridges
past the curve of the earth
past Moon, Mars,  Pluto
Milky Way,
out and out,
past a thousand galaxies
through time itself.


Written for Magpie Tales where Tess Kincaid reigns as Queen of the Manor.  Click on the link and join us.

Friday, July 25, 2014

Crossroads

I’m standing at the cross roads
eviscerated;
my intestines spilled
in a shiny, quivering heap
liver, spleen, stomach, lungs
laying at my feet,
and blood, so much blood
everywhere.
And you say,
“I never mean to hurt you,
babe”
so sincerely
that of course
it’s true.
And I am embarrassed
by the pain I feel,
by the mess I have made.
You smile and begin to walk away.
I quickly try to gather
my vital organs,
but my colon,
slick with dark blood
 slips
through my fingers,
and even though I know
they all came
from that gaping hole
just below my
throat,
I can’t seem to fit
them back in,
no matter how hard
I try.
Then you turn back to me
and say,
“You’ll always be my friend.”


This is for  dVerse where Claudia asked us to use images and metaphors boldly so that they paint a strong picture.