that's mrs. mediocrity to you

chased you down, really, down the street, two blocks, then three
hollow-tipped holes filling my heart as you became child,

and i, mother.

we both raced the ghosts that lived in your memory
and you ran faster so much faster so much faster and
i couldn’t tell you that i would protect you because

i didn’t understand that i was too short too young too innocent
to see even the tiniest glimpse of the demons you saw

coming on just over my shoulder.

in the end, it was you who talked like a child
me that patted shoulders and calmed as best i could
though inside my brain was screaming

stop and i

couldn’t find my way out of the forest we’d just entered
having forgotten to leave the trail of crumbs
that would lead us back to

before

and by the time you returned
to being you
the you
i thought i knew

i was someone completely

other.

.

.

.

A poem a day for 30 days.
In honor of National Poetry Month,
this post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.
And also dVerse poets Open Link Night, join us!

kettle over cave

as departure looms

the only sound

is the silence

of hope

::

::

{Image by Tracey Grumbach}
as a prompt for the Poetics link-up at dVerse poets, join us!

::

A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month.
This post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.

i’ve looked in every corner
upturned every stone
…………blended shadows
…………and reached into
…………black places

………………there is nothing to be found

………………in the darkness
………………i grasp and i grab
………………as everything you’ve ever said
………………slips through my fingers

………………mercurial
………………mirroring back to me
………………the echo of a voice
………………that never existed
………………a face i cannot know
………………a heart that has
………………no rhythm

………………i sing songs
………………in the cave of existence
………………i build you a fire
………………that burns without
………………smoke

………………i breathe in the dust
………………of your desire

………………hold my breath
………………hold my breath
………………hold my
………………………..breath

………………waiting for

………………the shape of you
………………to form
………………beneath my
………………………..fingers

.

.

.

In honor of National Poetry Month,
this post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.
and also dVerse poets Open Link Night, join us!

it is winter it is summer it is spring
all green and hope and
procreation
blind sun
squinting through branches
more bare
than picked over
bones

it is bird call and free fall
moss and shadow
growth that forces its way
in and out
of yesterday’s
vision

it is
fuel for the fire of tomorrow
seed for the next generation

fecund with promises promises

that will all

be

broken

repeated

believed

broken

it is winter it is summer it is spring

::

.

.

.

this post is part of:

the scintilla project. see more here

Today’s prompt:
Talk about breaking someone else’s heart,
or having your own heart broken.

and

dVerse poets Open Link Night, join us!

spring comes
on the day
when i rise
to the surface
of the pool
that was winter

gasping for air.

the sun
warms my face
as i pull
myself up
hand over hand
clinging to vine

and veracity.

the grey ghost
regrets his decision
to give up
the reins
a week early,
but in the forest

the vulture

smiles.

.

.

.

.

::

this post is part of:

the scintilla project. see more here.

Today’s prompt: Show a part of {your} nature that you feel you’ve lost.
Can you get it back? Would it be worth it?.

and

 dVerse poets Open Link Night, join us!

::

when i was a child i found a rock
that shone with flecks of gold

excited (and thinking it was real)
i ran to show it to my father

who gently explained (in the way
that fathers do) that it was not.

he told me the name of my pretty,
sparkly nugget and i was sorry.

worthless, he said, trying to explain
the difference between pyrite

and the gold that circled his finger,
and together we imagined the

disappointment of miners who surely
must have thought they struck it rich.

yesterday, i walked through a garden
that was not mine and stopped in the sun

to chat with a friend and (listening) i looked
down to discover chunks of my childhood

sparkling up at me and i smiled as i stooped
to pick up three pieces to give to her girls.

i told her the name and the story, and then
placed one last piece in my own pocket,

because these days, i am happy to believe
that there is far more value in this stone

that glitters just enough to remind me
of a long ago moment with my father

than there is in any amount
of the real thing.

.

.

.

this post is part of dVerse poets Open Link Night, join us!

some days you have to peel back some skin
just to be certain who you are.

the pretty face you put on for the world
can only disguise so much

and then the mystery starts bleeding through
the edges, those places that are frayed

and torn, held together with yellow cellophane
no longer necessary to hold that old wound

together, but a comfort of habit just the same.
lift it away and your scars are revealed,

white-edged and deeper than anyone can guess,
even you. smooth planes are only for

the innocent, the unscathed, the empty-handed.
it’s the skeleton that always tells the real

story, dancing alone in the closet like a fool.
at night i can hear the wind whistling

through all the cracks and patches
in my heart, and every so often

the sound finds a way to mimic
the cut of yesterday’s knife.

.

.

.

this post is part of dVerse poets Open Link Night, join us!

p.s. if you used to follow me through google friend connect,
please see the sidebar at right for new ways to follow.
google dropped the GFC widget for wordpress blogs,
and all of my followers were deleted.

i watched a seagull fly over a field of snow
and the word metaphor flashed through my mind
though i refused to take it any further
because all i really wanted to do was watch it fly.

by mid-afternoon the sun had melted all the snow
into a watershed running through my fingers
down over my toes and i thought that perhaps
i had imagined that shadow of white on white,

sun glinting off wings built for shores less frozen
but then (of course) i found a feather in my hair
that i am certain was as black as any raven’s
and the wind tore it from my grasp precisely

at that perfect, beautiful moment when
i recognized the color of hunger.

.

.

.

this post is part of dVerse poets Open Link Night, join us!

by dawn the stars have been forced behind the curtain
all sparkling chitter chatter must be silenced
as the boss man takes his place in the sky
defeating darkness inch by inch and
rapping at windows to prove his prowess

i shield my eyes and make wishes on pennies

rise to stand here sipping tea and folding laundry
feeling small and perfectly ordinary creating
order from chaos one shirt at a time living
always in the circle of my mind that glows in
patterns as rich as sunshine and at night

i simply try to remember the light

.

.

this post is part of dVerse poets Open Link Night join us!

in my sleep i can skate to the other side
…………artfully missing all the weak spots
…………gliding smoothly in arcs and swashes

…………………but in the light of day i lie on my belly
…………………………….scoot my way across the thinnest places
………………………the ones where i can see bottom and

…………words wave up at me, asking to be rescued
…………or at least remembered (even willing to be
………………………….used) but this ice
…………………………………refuses to shatter

…………………or split
……………………..or splinter and

…………………i have no opening
…………all i can do is watch as phrase and dangling
…………………….participle sink down into mud

…………to be eaten later by hungry catfish, or
………………………occasionally
………………..disintegrating before my eyes
………………………………letters break off
…………………………………………..and slowly
…………………………………..begin

……………….their ascent to the surface
……………………..spelling words i hadn’t thought of
…………………………………that stick
……………..………………to the underside
…………………………………….of this cold glass sheet

………………………………………………….teasing me
………………….………….……………taunting me

………………………………..i can see them,
……………………………hear them,
…………………………………spell them out on
…………………………………….my tongue
……………                   ……………but they remain
……………………………………………………..out of reach

………………………begging
……………………………for warmth as i

…………………………………….press my cheek to the ice

………………………………………………………shivering

.

this post is part of dVerse poets Open Link Night join us!