Lots of Poetry for All!

I have, I believe, nine poems. Well, nine and a half, but I’m not showing the unfinished one just yet. Because well . . . it’s not finished.

Blank Paper, Blank Mind

I sit here staring
at the utter starkness
of both paper and mind.

What new words will flow
as the very life blood of my pen
oozes out to the world?

There is nothing new
under the blazing sun
so what can I say?

To me, the stillness of it all
is what gets to me
and the immutability of ink.

Climbing about gyres and gimbles
is a little like spelunking -
what new lands will be uncovered next?

Just hand over my pen now.
I’ll write my own sentence
though it costs me life’s blood.
~~~~
The next two go together.

Waiting for You

My love, though I know you not
I stand here at bay window
Waiting for you

My love, you’ve at last arrived
And now that I know you I no longer need to stand here
Waiting for you

My love, you’ve shattered me by leaving
As I stand here with shiny trails down my cheeks
Waiting for you

Waiting for my Love

I’m waiting for you, my love
in case you didn’t hear me
without meaning to, stumbling over myself
the place I’ve found is with you.

All you have to do is turn your head
I’ll be standing behind you
waiting for you to find me
be kind – tell me if you ever will.

My screams and shouts do go unnoticed.
Only the silent nights of peace
sometimes get your eye
What can I do . . .

but stand here . . .

wait for time . . .

wait for you . . .

still waiting.
love you.

To Christ: Before You Go

My dearly beloved friend,
You fill me with joy whenever I see you
I can never wait to see you
I can never get tired of you,
much as we sometimes disagree.

When I’m sitting here on a cushion,
looking up into Your eyes
and you stroke my hair with Your hand
I feel like I’m special, set apart
like a daughter adopted by a caring father.

Do you see me, see me here?
Your eyes say that You do,
the words tell me You’re hearing
and the scars – oh, the blessed scars!

Not just hands, but feet, brow,
and whip marks on the back.
All Your body speaks
of Your heart beat’s love -
Me.

I’ve only begun to make sense
of what might be termed love gibberish
and all Your other words.
How am I even to begin understanding
by the deeds You do?

The idea of God made man flesh
leads to either worship of the divine
or repulsion of the human.
What am I to make of His sacrifice?

You say that You’re going now,
though You’ll never truly leave me.
Why must You leave me now?
What will I do without You here?

All right, then, go for now
I know that You will be back soon
so I’ll take a hug and holy kiss
and wait for Your return.

Fill Your Soul

Words as feathers brush
flippantly across your eyes
as heavy solid rocks
they bruise and break your soul.

Drink of any magic pool you wish,
nothing will slake your thirst like words,
they’ll also abandon you on the side of the desert road
and leave your entrails for the buzzards.

So go on hunts and expeditions
to the deepest dankest darkest caverns
or to the highest aerial next
and take the longest hardest roads.

Pick only the ripest choicest words
prepare them carefully for consumption
sit down to the hearty banquet
and fill your soul with them.

Projecting

Light through glass gives prisms,
my energy’s harnessed for so many things:
boring presentations, world maps, English.
I’ve learned so many things.

Bending the light through lenses
will show your genius or stupidity
and no one can save you
from the revelation to all.

Dust dances in my light
as a simple screen far away
is my unconnected partner,
and we can run among the stars of words.

My own wisdom and will
is forgotten in giving yours
I’m the perfect humble servant,
at your ever command.

Partner in Crime

My partner and I sneak down the street
careful to hide the rather loud squeak
that our soles make on the dirt
careful to balance so we don’t get hurt.

You won’t see us up on rooftop high
dressed in blue, we hide in the sky
and wait for nightfall to come
we feel the cold as our skin turns numb.

Stealthily we cautiously creep
out from hiding places in the deep
and purloin the sparkles, the jewels and rubies
we won’t forget the fuzz-covered woobies.

When dawn arises, in dark we hide
my partner and I, we will bide
our time until the night once more
that’s what real partners in crime are for.

Things my Mother Says

• The guy to pick is the guy who respects his mother.
• Clean your room.
• If you whine about it, I can’t let you have it because then you’ll think that whining will get you what you want in life and that’s just not true.
• Life’s not fair. Get used to it.
• It’s still a man’s world and don’t you forget it.
• It may be a man’s world, but the bathroom belongs to us women. [To my brother and dad: Put that seat down]
• Don’t leave that there.
• Do the dishes.
• Do the laundry.
• Pick that up.
• No.
• Time out.
• Good job.
• I love you.
• I believe in you.
• I enjoy having you in my family.
• We should dye our hair at Christmas! Red and green. Oh, come on . . .
• Do the Santa/Easter bunny picture with me! Come on . . .
• You want to go where to do what with who? Okay, no problem. Go, go, go. Get out of the house. You haven’t left for three days.
• Put that book down and pay attention to me.

Nothing

There was nothing in his pockets
nothing in his account
nothing up his sleeve
and nothing on the table.

He had nothing in the way of money,
nothing in the way of friends,
nothing in the way of looks,
and nothing in the way of smarts.

There was nothing in his cupboards,
and no one in his life to care
he had nothing for his supper
and his small apartment bare.

But he walked around town
with a great big smile on his face
‘cause he had lots of nothing
to serve up on his plate.

~~~~~

I debated somewhat about whether to show this next one, as it does somewhat relate to my unfinished poem . . . but it also works as a stand alone. Tell you what, when I finish my other poem (IF I finish it! The thing is a three page monster and I feel like I’m not even close to half done), I’ll publish this one again.

Rapture

Her hair flew and flipped around her shoulder
as her foot followed the dance step through
the unheard music crackled in the background
and her shoes clicked against the tile.

Her arms were thrown over her head
as she became a study in blur
the gleam of gemstones in her eye
with the sheen and mystery of a
butterfly’s wing.

The skirt bounced, her arms flew,
and her hair merrily billowed.
She threw her head back
and laughed, giggling like the stream

Afternoon sunlight sparkled on the floor,
as she followed the last dew drops
of sunshine left that day,
she slowed her steps and stopped to gaze
as the sun shed its last rays of light.