Exact from me with whispers rapt and low,
the pace of conjugate contentious sway
into one another’s concert play.
The night reveals a space to deepen, slow
in the rush, the fierce becomes the calm.
Would that I could seal our lover’s sighs
grasping at the moon in starfilled skies,
interjecting sweet familiar psalms
and upon the hallowed, moistened ground,
love and passion fallow, for a time.
Yet the sounds of poesy and rhyme
call out to the blades gone pressing down
and the words that seem to fail in cue
wrap us in the dawn’s evolving dew.
NaPoWriMo 2013 Day 17
Slightly late, but hey, sonnets aren’t simple…
In the picture
there is an oval mirror,
framed in braided mahogany
and it gives a reflection
of a glass door
-openness to the room-
implying she likes big spaces.
Beneath the mirror sits
a stack of books, fore-edge only showing
so we don’t know the titles
but I’m certain it contains an
old copy of Leaves of Grass
and Through the Looking Glass.
Next to the stack of books
is a dinosaur figurine,
a tyrannosaurus slightly outstretched,
it’s tiny arms not quite reaching…
and in the right corner is the front half
of a small silver toy car,
a flashy memento
just coming into the picture.
If only the dinosaur
can reach the stack of books in time,
he will be safe.
I wonder what kind of day it was outside,
when this picture was made.
In a resemblance to a growing band
Band of apocalyptic marauders,
Survivalist industrialists slowly overtake the only factory along the river
And feed a dose of a miscreant pollutant into the
Our hero attempts to negotiate
With the leader of the counterrevolutionaries,
The number of potato guns and associated
Ammunition to be used in the impending attack
Against the increasing numbers
Of the zombie horde.
The network is watching closely
To ensure that ratings don’t overshadow
It ability to fund new episodes.
first, I loaded two coolers of frozen food
from a basement freezer, as if gathering
core samples from some artic
four bags of brussell sprouts
a box of apple dumplings
an assortment of frozen dinners
three vacuum-packed bags of black-eyed peas
from your step-father’s garden from 2007,
and freed, with a hammer and pick,
a pasta casserole
and a bag of frosted tilapia.
my hands screened the icy water
and glacial shards across
the floor of the freezer
and into a pan. once filled, I
carried it up the stairs
and tossed the debris
out the back door beneath
the lavender bush.
later, I trimmed the stems from eight
red roses and placed them
in tap water in a vase
on the corner of the kitchen
you either eat
boiled or fried.
slimy or crispy.
in a gumbo or covered
the situation dictates it.
if it is pickled
it’s already dead.
NaPoWriMo 2013 Day 9
slightly late, but hopefully, I’ll catch up.