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 were written for Creative Writing, Fall term ‘92 by RMT
This is something I wrote back in November. Most of you will read this and think "say what?" I've posted it here primarily for myself and those few who DO get it. A clue: the Dementias are my SPP characters and I was in a job that was slowly killing me.
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