And the Town Came Alive
Once the old town was asleep, waiting.
The streets were empty and lonely –
no cars, no people, no life.
Then a spark ignited,
slowly turned to flame,
opened fresh eyes.
Hearts returned.
You Are
Here.
It Takes Two to Tango
It Takes Two to Tango
She was a walled flower with two left-over feet
No rhythm flowed or surged through her limp veins
Not beat to match her lonely heart moved her hips
But when the moon was full she shed her shoes and
tangoed alone in the lambent glow of night
A Question of Abundance
A Question of Abundance
The crocus and daffodils are blooming
and there is an abundance of small white
flowers in the herb garden – unwanted weeds
that I will have to pull, if it ever stops raining
On my front porch I found a small yellow
butterfly, a sign that the weather is finally
turning warmer and a reminder that my
abundant weeds are its abundant food source
Weeding can wait
A Song in the Storm
A Song in the Storm
A small, clear voice sang out
amid the storm of men at war –
a movie song, a moving song.
A call to peaceful action, a voice
to calm the fears of children everywhere.
A song that children sing from homes,
and schools – from street corners and bunkers.
A voice heard by nations and people
unlike her own, yet understood by all.
A child with the wisdom that children possess,
a wisdom that is lost in the foolishness of growing up
Paint Me
Paint Me
Paint me into a corner, and then
Paint your beating heart upon my lonely heart
Paint long-stemmed roses on my nose and
Paint love songs on my empty ears
Paint wet kisses onto my parched lips
Cover me in paint until I am no longer blank
Narcissus at the Laundromat
Narcissus at the Laundromat
I watched him, that handsome man.
He went from machine to machine,
stopping to peer through each little window.
I thought he must have forgotten
which dryer he had put his clothes into –
up and down the aisles, stopping in front of
every door and staring with a contented smile.
He was in front of the oversize load dryer, gazing
longingly at a bedspread tumbling around when I asked
if he’d found his laundry and, without turning to look at me,
he replied, “ I have no laundry.”
My attempt at Day 5 prompt at https://www.napowrimo.net/day-five-9/
Of Poem and Nonsense
Of Poem and Nonsense
This poem is tied up in (k)nots trying to
make sense of the letters swirling around
it – Syllables that won’t keep time, tripping
over metered clown feet – Phrases
of the moon lined up and made to
stan(d)za in groups of four or maybe two
What’s a poem to do when there is no
rhyme or season to its form? When it finds
itself trickling away into an inky stain on paper ?
Spinning Seasons
Spinning Seasons
Like a Merry-go-Round ride this old
blue planet spins round and round –
tilting now and then just to add a
touch of seasoning, a smidge of reasoning
far enough away from the flame
of that burning star that we feel its spicy heat
And There is Beauty
And There is Beauty
Hug a lonely tree
Listen to its heartbeat
Weep for the fallen leaves
Gather them in bushels
Spread them on a blanket
Whisper to them of love
Press them against your heart
Hang them in a window so they can feel the sun
Tell them they are beautiful
Write them into a poem
The prompt over at napowrimo.net today is to write a “prompt poem”
Wrapped Up
Wrapped Up
She tried to catch up, match
up with those trending, mending
rending things until she was wrung dry
She tried to tweet sweet nothing
into space and time until her chirping dried up
She tried not to give up, live up to
some made up expectations that weren’t her
own until her muse was filled up with nonsense
Then she grabbed up some paper and some
deep blue ink and wrapped herself tightly
into the safety of her own mixed up poem
rhymeswithbug 