Discarded

At the curb on big item pick-up day,

battered and threadbare,

sits our dingy, faded love.

Smelling of dirty socks and rancid peanut butter,

It has been re-purposed.

Now we sit in comfort,

if not in style,

watching the parade go by.

This was written in response to the visual prompt at Magpie Tales.  It is also posted at Poets United Poetry Pantry.  Both are great sites for readers and writers; check 'em out! 

Giving Thanks

Image by en.wikipedia.org

I celebrated Thanksgiving in an old fashioned way.  I invited everyone in the neighborhood to my house, we had an enormous feast, and then I killed them and took their land.   -Jon Stewart


Perhaps I should just let this quote stand alone, but I feel compelled to add that I am thankful for a number of things, both tangible and intangible.  I do not mean this to be disrespectful, just to remind myself...and anyone else who happens to find themselves here, that the things we have often come to us at the expense of others.  So, let's all share and play nice!

Magpie #92

Yin-Yang curves around

a summersault smooch

Our crazy, cartwheeling, kaleidoscope love

spins me to paradise

Baby, I’m head-over-heels for you!

This delightful photo prompt is provided by Tess Kincade at Magpie Tales.  Click on the title to go there.  This is also linked to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.  Their theme is gratitude though they also allow other topics too.  While this isn't exactly about gratitude, who isn't grateful for love like this?

Some Days

i am Tonto

i am Robin -

a side kick, kicked aside

during the central action.

i am the second sister:

Jan, not Marcia

i am the ideal wing man,

better, not best;

never the initiator.

my sterling qualities:

support, loyalty, deference;

my sins

are those of weakness

not malice.

i am peripheral

This is for Mr. Know-it-all.

Just for Fun

She always was outstanding in her field!

And now for something completely different: a silly take on the prompt at Magpie Tales.  Go there to see some more worthy efforts :o)

Disassociation

I'm waiting;

once again, the last to be chosen

Why do I stay,

with old whispers and lukewarm coffee

as my only consolation

The pale, grey sky is nearly absent

What will hold me to the ground

if the sky lifts completely

and gravity fails?

I'm barely making contact now

This is in response to the photo writing prompt offered at Magpie Tales.  Go there to see lots of wonderful writing.  Photo is taken from Google images, unknown photographer.

In Time

Tick

tock

you must

make a choice;

every minute you

delay opportunity dies.

Your world, your future depend on it - but no pressure...

This is called Fibonacci poem (or Fib) is a multiple-line verse based on the Fibonacci sequence so that the number of syllables in each line equals the total number of syllables in the preceding two lines.  There is no set number of lines, but of course, it's more difficult with each succeeding line so most are 6 - 8 lines long.  I learned of this form through a wonderful  example by Annie Perconti.  (Photo by ice891)

SOLD!

Coat. Keys. Purse.

Ok, let's go!

Everything half off! Hurry - one day only!

Creamy, cashmere dress,

sooo soft

skinny jeans

tall, black leather boots

with a chain across the heel

lacey panites – pink, teal, black

pretty, little nightie

supple black leather

driving gloves...

sold.

Sometimes the soul of a poet

requires retail therapy!

This was written just for fun, for Mr. Know-it-all's Flash Friday 55.  Check it out here: 55!  Also at dVerse Poets open link night

Dark December

In her holy dance

Earth turns away,

            from light

            from warmth

            from life

With each inspiration

of cold, sharp air

lungs ache

Visible breath,

ghost at the lips,

dissipates

leaving jewels of condensation

on all it touches

The austere landscape

is covered by

a night sky

of extravagant beauty,                       

hung with pulsing diamonds

As we run

tears freeze in our eyes

cold burns our ears

we taste darkness;

            no light

            no warmth

            no life

Yet this is the dark of hope-

the cold that sets the bulbs- 

the death that brings resurrection   

What are we running from?

Grace surrounds us.


This is a poem I wrote some time ago, which I am linking to Poets United for their prompt Winter.  Check out their site here: PU Thursday Think Tank I highly recommend it!

Trust

Trust

You ask ‘Do you think

you will ever be able

to trust me completely?’

I don’t know how to

answer - for how can I trust you

when I can’t trust myself?


This has been linked to Gooseberry Garden for their prompt 'feathers, fidelity, figment and fables.' 

A Reminder

As

raw winds

gust, we pause

and remember.

Omens of winter,

the dead leaves scatter.

In their wake, barren ground

covers the bones of those who sleep,

wasted in sunken, cement chambers.

As raw winds gust, we pause and remember.

This is written in response to the picture writing prompt provided at Magpie Tales and the promp 'Omen' offered from Sunday Scribblings.  Click on the names to check out both these sites.  The from is a Dectina Refrain created by Marion Friedenthal, with each line containing the following syllables: 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9 and the refrain repeats lines 1-4.