Day 30 PAD Challenge. Prompt: "after leaving here"
after leaving here we had such a
time of it, I can't tell you,
what with missed connections
and luggage lost and the
coffee scalding my tongue so that
I could hardly speak, but I managed, somehow....
longing, so, for a surcease of
our travelling, pillar to post,
wandering, years, in this desert of
thought, the papers crumbling, yellow,
in her hands, the words twisted,
torn to pack the
china, hands inkstained with
the latest of linguistics, the
eager and ambitious words wrapping
a tired-out teakettle
rest. home. bed.
30 April 2011
Resurgam
Day 29 PAD Challenge. Prompt: "Write an ode."
resurging like the green shoots pushing
through black, always reaching for
heaven, so, too, I reach for you,
best and brightest of all men
I feel you still, in common streets,
in pews of churches too, you linger long
in and about me, wreathing your
fingers, always, through my hair.
in this short space not enough
time or length to list your fairnesses,
shining, sunlike, on these poor
shoots, seeking only your attentions,
a breath or two of yours to warm
them, blossoms aborning, adorning you only
resurging like the green shoots pushing
through black, always reaching for
heaven, so, too, I reach for you,
best and brightest of all men
I feel you still, in common streets,
in pews of churches too, you linger long
in and about me, wreathing your
fingers, always, through my hair.
in this short space not enough
time or length to list your fairnesses,
shining, sunlike, on these poor
shoots, seeking only your attentions,
a breath or two of yours to warm
them, blossoms aborning, adorning you only
Empty Bowl
Day 28 PAD Challenge. Prompt: "World without something else--a person, place, or thing."
the empty bowl, already scraped
clean of the few grains that were
left, the sheen of the groats, the
oats, a dampness on the crockery,
and how am to live without you by my side,
arms and belly empty, a
scarecrow scratching at the
windowpane, counting the bowls
stacked upon the dresser?
the empty bowl, already scraped
clean of the few grains that were
left, the sheen of the groats, the
oats, a dampness on the crockery,
and how am to live without you by my side,
arms and belly empty, a
scarecrow scratching at the
windowpane, counting the bowls
stacked upon the dresser?
In the Midst of You
Day 27 PAD Challenge. Prompt: "In the (blank) of (blank)"
in the midst of him,
stopping to remember all those
afternoons color-coded by ticket-
stubs, their falling, an accidental
rainbow, from her wallet, the
films, museums, they frequented, smiling
as he stole a kiss just
out of sight of the security guard
minding the old masters while
he walked with his young....
eyes, that is what drew her
to you, those eyes staring
through her like an x-ray,
irradiating her dreams
until they glowed
in the midst of him,
stopping to remember all those
afternoons color-coded by ticket-
stubs, their falling, an accidental
rainbow, from her wallet, the
films, museums, they frequented, smiling
as he stole a kiss just
out of sight of the security guard
minding the old masters while
he walked with his young....
eyes, that is what drew her
to you, those eyes staring
through her like an x-ray,
irradiating her dreams
until they glowed
26 April 2011
Above the Fold
Day 26 PAD Challenge. Write a "leader" poem or a "follower" poem.
the leader, black on cream (or,
perhaps, black on salmon-pink)
surmounts the letters-to-the-
editor, the sidebar on the facing
page, featuring a low-backed gown in
velvet, the mannequin's face
turned, coyly, from us--not so
on the page of editorials--
with full force they bleat and bray, neigh,
sometimes in unison, more often not,
bellowing
........
the printer's devil and the pressmen
in their squared paper hats amidst
the thrum, thrum, thrum of paper
and metal mixed, the din
they speak above, their dulcet
tones a better music still
the leader, black on cream (or,
perhaps, black on salmon-pink)
surmounts the letters-to-the-
editor, the sidebar on the facing
page, featuring a low-backed gown in
velvet, the mannequin's face
turned, coyly, from us--not so
on the page of editorials--
with full force they bleat and bray, neigh,
sometimes in unison, more often not,
bellowing
........
the printer's devil and the pressmen
in their squared paper hats amidst
the thrum, thrum, thrum of paper
and metal mixed, the din
they speak above, their dulcet
tones a better music still
25 April 2011
Rocking-Horse Winner
Day 25 PAD Challenge. Prompt: A "falling" poem.
falling, along with the leaves, unbridled,
golden, keys a-jingle in her
pocket, walking up, up, up,
above the skies, the rocking-horse
set in motion once more, winning
another trifecta on Riverdale Avenue, the
betting slips of the losers littering the
curb, along with cigarette
stubs and brown bottles halved,
angrily, in the dark, their
lovely necks so handy to hold,
hers, bowed over books, more
so, and still the golden
leaves fall, and fall, and fall,
leaving their imprints, wet, upon
the walk
falling, along with the leaves, unbridled,
golden, keys a-jingle in her
pocket, walking up, up, up,
above the skies, the rocking-horse
set in motion once more, winning
another trifecta on Riverdale Avenue, the
betting slips of the losers littering the
curb, along with cigarette
stubs and brown bottles halved,
angrily, in the dark, their
lovely necks so handy to hold,
hers, bowed over books, more
so, and still the golden
leaves fall, and fall, and fall,
leaving their imprints, wet, upon
the walk
Pared-down Prayer
Day 24 PAD Challenge. Prompt: A "prayer" poem.
to keep calm, carrying on, in spite
of--what??
no matter--herewith
some small supplication for the
barest of necessaries--clean
food, drink, shelter, safety from harm,
freedom from want and fear
peace in sleep, satisfaction in
our various labors and
all else will follow,
sure as night trails after
day
to keep calm, carrying on, in spite
of--what??
no matter--herewith
some small supplication for the
barest of necessaries--clean
food, drink, shelter, safety from harm,
freedom from want and fear
peace in sleep, satisfaction in
our various labors and
all else will follow,
sure as night trails after
day
Calendar Blues
Day 23 PAD Challenge. Prompt: A "quit what you're doing" poem.
be still and quit fretting at
the years, increasing, one by
one, until they are counted
in decades, each amber
bead containing those reflections
mirrored back, held for all
time in that honeyed
thickness, she heard him
before she saw him, love
coming in at the ears
the hoar-frost has not
reached his chin, the
journey still not done, and
he, in her eyes, as
young as he ever was
be still and quit fretting at
the years, increasing, one by
one, until they are counted
in decades, each amber
bead containing those reflections
mirrored back, held for all
time in that honeyed
thickness, she heard him
before she saw him, love
coming in at the ears
the hoar-frost has not
reached his chin, the
journey still not done, and
he, in her eyes, as
young as he ever was
23 April 2011
Museum Piece
Day 22 PAD Challenge. Prompt: "Only one in the world" poem.
only one, that's true, of him
rising and setting like the
sun, brilliant as the hilt
beyond the glass they both saw
that rainy November afternoon.
changing her feathers, fair to
fowl, to suit his naturalist's
eye, never-quite-achieving
the correct plumage so that
she, too, could be stuffed
and held for all time behind
glass, pretty picture-postcard,
buy it, for a pittance, before hitting the stones
of the street, rain slicked so,
so fast, fast, he drove, the
glove box thick-ticketed, pumpkin-orange, lean-jawed,
blue-eyed, whittling her down to size,
the ivory figure, ancient, knotty
talisman reclining in perpetuity on
the brocaded floral plains of historical
furnishings, neatly tagged,
catalogued in black and white
only one, that's true, of him
rising and setting like the
sun, brilliant as the hilt
beyond the glass they both saw
that rainy November afternoon.
changing her feathers, fair to
fowl, to suit his naturalist's
eye, never-quite-achieving
the correct plumage so that
she, too, could be stuffed
and held for all time behind
glass, pretty picture-postcard,
buy it, for a pittance, before hitting the stones
of the street, rain slicked so,
so fast, fast, he drove, the
glove box thick-ticketed, pumpkin-orange, lean-jawed,
blue-eyed, whittling her down to size,
the ivory figure, ancient, knotty
talisman reclining in perpetuity on
the brocaded floral plains of historical
furnishings, neatly tagged,
catalogued in black and white
21 April 2011
Wedding Cake
Day 21, PAD Challenge. A "second thoughts" poem.
perhaps, after all was said
and done, a simple affair
would have been best,
bereft of flowers garlanding the
aisles, the crisp linens shrouding
the tables, the reckoning
as long as a hospital bill, and
me in ivory and you in black,
perfectly topping that multi-
tiered confection of sugar,
butter, eggs, flour, royal and
almond icing, surely a cake to be
dreamt upon, sliced with a
serrated blade, placed into
tiny boxes, white, beribboned
perhaps, after all was said
and done, a simple affair
would have been best,
bereft of flowers garlanding the
aisles, the crisp linens shrouding
the tables, the reckoning
as long as a hospital bill, and
me in ivory and you in black,
perfectly topping that multi-
tiered confection of sugar,
butter, eggs, flour, royal and
almond icing, surely a cake to be
dreamt upon, sliced with a
serrated blade, placed into
tiny boxes, white, beribboned
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