Chimera (a wild and unrealistic dream or notion)

All I want on a Sunday morning is to luxuriate in my laziness. I want to watch old movies with the volume turned up loud, the newspaper crackling as I shift my supine body on the couch, the words of duplicitous politicians and photos of narcissistic socialites mashed under my ass. I want to gaze out my window where heat rises on the street like steam from a gumbo pot while I lie, cool as a nectar cream snowball, in my Maggie The Cat slip, painting my toenails a color called Bad Influence. I would sip Southern Wedding Cake coffee … Continue reading Chimera (a wild and unrealistic dream or notion)

June

I want to run naked down a pier and dive into cold clear lake waters, engulfed in liquid exultation. I want to make bracelets of clover and stack them up my arms to the elbows, adorned with the nectar of grace. I want to drive down long twisted roads in the country with the windows down, the breath of shade and sun flowing coolness and warmth. I want to watch lightning bugs flash in the quiet of an evening, neon poke-a-dots against the earths’ closed eyes. I want to fill my lungs with the scent of night-blooming jasmine, light-headed and … Continue reading June

Warrior and Flower

Jasmine tea, sweet in the bowl. Its’ aroma drifts across the table to where you sit perusing the morning paper, the samurai hidden beneath reading glasses and the passage of night. At the clink of the cup in its’ saucer, your eyes lift to meet mine. We share a smile as our day begins, the essence of the night between us, ours alone. ___________________________ Shared on Poets United. Continue reading Warrior and Flower

Terra Firma Suffocation

The turquoise cleanliness  is a pretense, an illusion. Beneath, the sky seeps scarlet from the purple of old bruises. A defoliant drenched earth erupts with deadly deceptive flora straining for a breath of blue. ________________________________________________ “The earth is mankind’s ultimate haven, our blessed terra firma.” ~~~Gilbert Adair Poem inspired by the photo above on One Stop Poetry. Continue reading Terra Firma Suffocation

Blackberries

Blackberries She slams the car door and begins the walk across the gravel lot toward the building. The way is familiar, the steps repetitive…..this is a path she follows at least twice a day, five days a week. Today becomes different. as she walks she looks up through the branches of the old oak trees that have lived here for decades. She looks at the blue sky, notices the purple morning glories climbing through the hedges. After crossing the street she glances to her left and her eyes light on a small bramble of……blackberries? Yes, blackberries. In the middle of … Continue reading Blackberries

Jolt

Whenever I find myself wishing I lived alone, I’m going to remember this day.  I’m going to remember the silence that is not peaceful, that is not only the absence of sound but the absence of you.  I’m going to remember that you weren’t here when I turned to share a thought or here to ask why when the caller ID didn’t work. You weren’t here when I needed help with the old dog nor when it was time to eat. I ate alone and it didn’t seem worth it – without you. I did my normal chores and the … Continue reading Jolt

Sleeping, Writing and My Lack Thereof

It’s 4:41 in the morning and I can’t sleep. I’ve been tossing and turning for about two hours so I finally got up and got the computer and some peanut butter cups and I’m sitting in bed hoping to get some of these thoughts whirling in my head down on paper. Or rather, computer screen. Whatever. I can’t ever remember having done this before since I’m an easy sleeper and rarely have insomnia. I guess this is what this is: insomnia. She’s a companion I’m not familiar with except at times of extreme excitement or anxiety over an event coming … Continue reading Sleeping, Writing and My Lack Thereof

NaPoWriMo: Day14 – After The Night

After The Night Let’s step down this street right now, washed bright as our shining faces in the early pre-dawn light. We’ll welcome the cool air of March on our skin and breathe in the scent of freshly baking pistolettes as we meander over cobblestones worn smooth over time by thousands of footsteps. We’ll watch the pigeons pecking for errant crumbs in the banquette cracks suddenly startled by the passing of a lone musician, coronet in one hand and fried chicken leg in the other, home-bound in his wrinkled white shirt, the echoes of last night’s melodies swirling around his … Continue reading NaPoWriMo: Day14 – After The Night