(untitled)

springtime storms-
perception hindered
by love bugs

 

~OR~

 

springtime rain-
perception filled
with love bugs

 

~~
Which one do you like better?

Poetry inspiration-
dVersePoets:OLN

Upon Hearing the News

anguish, a puncture of shattered glass
tinctured, the blood on poisoned skin
that when I heard the sirens blow
a sudden death cracked within

~~

Poetic inspirations:
Poetry Jam~ Castle of Glass
dVersePoets~OLN

~~

Please check out my found poetry (Day 2) from Updike’s Rabbit at Rest on Pulitzer Remix.

Spring Beauty

Easter Lily
buds open like ears to hear
God’s refreshing word.

*

Shared with dVersePoets:OLN- Happy Spring… Happy Easter, Passover, Everything! May warmer weather lighten your wings!

Appearances

In the Pristine Subdivision…

Where Mother Alcohol calls
drug abuse an UpPer
and pride a downer.

Where manicured lawns
and tidy brick homes
are a cover up
for those driving
through the ritzy
neighborhood.

Where behind
closed doors,
corners are meant
for the dying
and going clean
is a time-consuming
misdemeanor for abused
and over-used men,
women, sometimes
even teens.

Where those
who have suffered
fallen incomes
and cancer-like
debilitations
from years and years
of imprisonment
lurk in the dark.

Where swallowed
pride hides inside,
and shambled
consequences
remain unseen
from the outside.

… of this pristine
subdivision coveted
by townsfolk.

~

Written for and shared with my friends at dVersePoets for OLN.

P.S. I’d love feedback on my new background. Do you like it? Is it too distracting? Should it stay or go? Thanks!

P.P.S. I couldn’t stand it! Now where cages once stacked one on top of the other there is darkness.

Cutting Words

Written on a rear window
raw words of hate,
no reserves, these words
wash away fate

that alone kills
self-worth and wholesomeness,
fearsome words demeaning
lacking truthfulness.

An outsider walks by
sees the words as meant for her
body writhed in pain,
the cutting sprees a whir.

Too close, too dangerous,
the blood, the paint, the heart;
words misunderstood,
sliced a world apart.

*
Shared with dVersePoets:OLN
The Sunday Whirl 99- paint, use, sprees, outsider, away, fearsome, part, reserves, body, intimate, written, and window

Who Was It?

Entombed, the fury – -
ready to shoot and yet
one of the four,
the one with
lesser-used excuses…

…the silver screen star squealer?
…the actress of old surprisingly lively for her age?
…the disco singer with a witch face?
…the TV detective who mounts and dismounts horses?

All with feats defeated,
~the alpha or the omega~
their excuses used useless…

… a tiger in the tank delay.
… a dress that didn’t fit.
… an attack of red-spotted (blank).
… work record lost in container of folding scissors.

Which one
was late arriving,
entombing fury
when ready to shoot?

**

A Found Poem to share with my friends at dVersePoets :OLN#86
Source: The New York Times Crossword Puzzle Clues, 2013 Daily Calendar,  (edited by Will Shortz)

Superficial Health

With money
you’ll belong to a gym,
hire a personal trainer
who looks like Hercules on steroids,
who customizes a special plan just for you
yet is easily convinced to let up a bit
because he only wants your money

and you’ll wear the finest workout clothes
that show off just enough skin to tease
as you lift, lunge and curl each day

and you’ll spend more of that money
relaxing in the sauna after a full-body message,
manicure and pedicure, highlights, the works–

perhaps cucumbers on those icy eyes
will hide your misery inside.

*

Shared with the wonderful dVersePoets:OpenLinkNight

First published in the anthology, Backlit and Barbells

Grey Goose

Heart skipping, flipping
cartwheels, reels
of youth a Golden Globe
when I’m with you.

*

Not the booze, silly!

*

I hope your Valentine’s as sweet as mine! Shared with dVersePoets:OpenLinkNight

Ballerina Branches

Just
Watch
My arms’
Wild eschew,
Wave like willow wisps
Arabesque, across the window
As you try to sleep. Fear not my wistful ways; just watch.

*

(First published in The FIB Review, Oct. ’12)

Linked to dVersePoets:OpenLinkNight

Defining Fitness

It’s not the clink-CLANK
echo of weights slamming
iron/ON/iron, IRON/on/IRON,
or the sweat-filled gym
drowning sounds
of grunts and groans
mixed with hard rock music
blaring through corner speakers.

It’s not the flexed muscle,
sexed-up-on-display mentality
or the steal-a-glance
sneak peek thrill
of knee bend thrusts,
fleshy chesty push-up breezes,
white towels hung on shoulders
used to wipe away the drudgery.

No, it’s the feeling that I get
with a breathless extra mile
or a lowering of pins
at the universal gym,
a shifty lift
of more weight pumped,
less flab to pinch
and sleep-filled nights
waking up refreshed
with astounding bounding energy – -
the results fit, perfect.

*

First published in Backlit Barbells: An Anthology of Health & Fitness Poetry

Posted and linked for my friends at dVersePoets: OLN