Dug up some old stuff...

A new FB friend brought to mind that I used to be a fairly good poet. Won a couple of writing contests and had a couple of pieces legitimately published... all LONG ago. At any rate, I thought I'd share them here with you along with my most recent painting. Hope you enjoy them all.

Jenna at 13

You gracefully fold

into the chair,

half-smile lighting your face as you read,

Gawkiness

meets grace

in each body line.

Rounding gone,

angles show the woman to come.

Black eyes flash insolence.

I call you to chores.

Brushawaymyvoice with eraser’s

edge and draw

red dragons,

faerie queens.

Dirty dishes

sway not

in lands of mist.

Gulf of Mexico (haiku)

Grey-green cold that burns.

Cotton-tipped waves past skyline

lap at wet white sand.

Poem put together from magazine clippings

Because first impressions last a lifetime

Feeling translates into terms anyone can understand

Here’s a promise you don’t have to take with a grain of salt,

Falling in love don’t come with erasers for a simple reason.

Your kids have grown, The most luxurious part happens when it’s over.

MMMMmmmmmm

The junkman cometh!

The Wanderer

Woods so dark

I travel through

Faerie path

hidden

Cast a spell

Illuminates

to mine eyes

behold

See no end

Choose wisely

Where feet tread

my staff

The Lark & the Emporor ( a parody )

Strangle the Lark!

Place its pink tongue under glass.

I’ve heard

enough of choruses a lifetime

to last.

Choke that Green Frog!

Make a feast of muscled legs.

His song

is quite deafening to basilar

membranes.

I demand peace

at twilight times---dusk and dawn.

Kill them

all who dare to peep when the Emperor needs

to yawn.

Kids

I wish you would bathe

I say what I think

The stench tears the eyes

That’s just how goats reek

Kids buried in grime

Kids love gritty grub

Kids avoid the tub!

The Dancer

Sweat glistens as she moves

to the sway of soft strings.

Dim lights glow

on golden planks and her.

Slow movements sculpt in air---

Breath suspends.

Half-lidded eyes know the

rapture of surety.

Arms lift, she lightly turns, dancer,

sound and rhythm come together

in the quiet of the music.

The invisible audience

applauds.

Death ( a story in exactly 100 words)

She could feel the evil permeating the darkened room. Mist rose, covering the floor and filling her lungs. Terror gripped her. There was nowhere to run. No matter how she clawed at the thickly-panelled walls or yanked at the door, she couldn’t escape.

Then he was there before her in all his ungodly beauty. Red-rimmed eyes stole her will and she walked into his embrace. The man-thing smiled and moonlight glinted on pointed canine teeth. “At last, you are mine,” he whispered. She tilted her head, exposing a white throat. His teeth sank deep...and she fell forever.

Fishin’ ( a story in dialogue)

“God! Life’s great, ain’t it! Just look at dis. Da mornin’s so crisp and bright, da water’s calm. And just look’t here in ma net! Twelfth t’row today, all jus’ like dis one. Ten mullet! An’ look at da size! Can’t wait for Ti Mae ta see dis. She gonna have a fit. Course, she’ll hog all da gizzards...always does.”

“Wish she coulda come today. She’d of loved it. But dat Mae have to have a spankin’ clean house...no if’s, and’s, but’s, or maybe ‘bout it! Dese here babies won’t even make it ta da back door till day primed and ready to fry!”

“Oo-ee, but dat’ll be fine! I tell you what, dat Mae can cook! She whip me up some potatoe salad and have me some of dat French bread from Desporte’s...you know, dem loaves so soft dey bend in half when ya pick dem up. Den, dese babies, she fry dem up so crisp an’ golden, where dey crunch when ya bite ‘em, still moist inside.”

“Where’d I get dem? See that buoy raht over dere? Yea, da one to da east... Gonna try your luck? Best hurry, day’s gettin’ on quick. Me? I’m gonna hurry home. Mae’s awaitin’! God, ain’t life great!”

Good-Bye Daddy

Leaves blur as they fall to

the unforgiving ground

Except for one-----------

the tenacious grip won’t let it go.

Limned-white stones

litter the dying grass.

Here I stand,

crying, a child alone.

I Can’t Think!

Firecrackers of color

explode in my brain.

Ideas plip-plop.....Wait!

What was that?

She said what?

I can’t do it!....or can I?

If I try?

What if I did this....

Frustration, confusion,

immense desperation.

INPUT........IN

PUT.....INPUT

Thousands of ideas

incomplete.

I feel another thought.....

I can’t believe he said that.....

What point was I making?

Who did what?

How could I......

But what should I......

I forget......

HELP!!!!!!

From Childhood to Reality

We laughed

ago.

We sang

and danced.

Laughter

flees cold.

Dark comes.

Furrowed faces

line my

vision.

Times lost,

I mourn

ago.

A Road Through Desoto

Such a strange road so seldom travelled

grass sprouts and even one small maple tree finds root.

Short Cut Road they call it though it winds

hither

and

yon.

See the Buick skeleton there? Did it give up

trying to find

the end?

Dusty rust settles in autumn colors.

Nature’s paint slowly eradicates this blight

just as blooming meadows shroud humanity’s waste.

It’s quiet here, only the birds and insects

chatter in the morning air.

And, if you narrow your eyes justso,

looking away from electric wires and car,

you can see just how things

were meant to be.

Perhaps this road is the short cut to man’s housecleaning.

Perhaps simply a shortcut to its end.

Bah... None of this will save in its proper style, so we'll just imagine that the lines have indentations in odd places!

All works included written for Creative Writing, Fall term ‘92 by RMT