Monday, February 28, 2011

The Rock


There lies before me
A great boulder
I stumble upon
Blemished  yet smooth
Primed and ready
For me to take the fall
This meandering obstacle
Bold and obtrusive

Lewdly it awaits
As I plunge and purge forth
Blinded by misdirected zeal and passion
Rebellious and undeserving
I placate
Appreciate the chill
Of the soft smooth surface
The cold against my cheek
I weep
And clasp the crevices

Pondering the purpose of this slab
In  my path
I waver
Succumbing to the hunger
And tears.

Friday, February 25, 2011


The haunted mausoleum
Where prayers are numb
That's exactly what it reminds me of...
The damp dark-lit place
We traipse to every Wednesday night
Hobos and seekers alike
Grimace through the halls

This time
Tie dye clown colors
Splattered and wearing nary  a sheepish grin
Rather a desolate heart-sick cry

I drop her there
To share the secrets
Of a thousand walls
Where a thousand lives went before

If you listen carefully
You hear the voices
And see the doe eyes
Of wanton bodies
Shrieking before
Yearning for someone to give them a glance
Just a chance
As they continue to grapple with their world
Lips locked in secret silent solitude. 

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Crippling Composition

Life is hard sometimes
It just is
When you get behind the glitz and glam
You realize it
Complicated and rambling
Pieces of a jigsaw puzzle
All mixed up and scattered
One corner trying to fit into another
A jumbled cardboard pathetic mess
Frayed edges and subdued colors
In a hue that doesn't make sense.

Aren't you glad that you are not the one
Who is called upon to make reason of the shades?
Tumbling and frantic
Sorting trying
Trying so desperately to put the portions
Back together
Transforming them into a formation
Of matter
Which matters.

On days like this I'm glad I'm not the
Head Chef
The Judge
That I don't foresee
A representation of the future

What I can do is tenderly sigh
Knowing a hand is at work
Not mine
Putting the formats into array
And sequence.
Orchestration production
And melodrama at its best.

Monday, February 21, 2011


The elusive trees speak to me
Under the black ice.
Strictly forbidden
Do not enter.
Do not pass go.
I dare not venture
Out into the  evasive forest
The land of the desolate .
An ostrich speaks.
Buries his head in the fast fallen snow
Unable to immerse
Drowning in its sorrow.
Pure helplessness

As she trots down slippery slopes
Not trudging
But slickly sleeting
And speeding
Into the snare
Human lust
And control.
Unable to regard
Or behold
The branch above
Ready to pounce
And slice through
Cutting the skin.
Dare not tread tomorrow.

Friday, February 18, 2011



Yellowed limestone cracked tile tinged with yesterday’s mildew.

Cramped sweaty waiting for monotony to begin.

The sound of coins crashing,

Agitation rotating out of control.

Throbbing and thrashing against the revolve.

Voyeur mind wandering tomorrow’s prospects.

A hint of seduction, the mind pants…breathless.

In an attempt to sit surreptitiously among the onlookers.

Nondescript nonverbal body craving for but a glimpse.

To envision prominent pinnacle amid the heights of attraction.

Sweet, sinister fraudulent conversation.

A gentle laugh, a flowing of the limbs,

As banter embraces the moment.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Snow Globe

Deception, Distortion
Conceptions alike
The Fun House Mirror
Glares at me
But I refuse
To fall into its perception.
A sphere of myths
The bitter gall
Is tasted in my mouth.
Feet planted firmly
I press forward
Unwilling to believe
To perceive.

If one could learn from the stallions...
Enfold life with innocence and hope
Refuse to throw the Cinderella Ball
And let it come tumbling
Down the stairs
The glass shards a paradox
Of delusive crystals.

I want to believe in the delicacy beyond
To preside once more
The quiet sprinkling
Of a soft shimmer
A whisper of harmonic refrains
Supple to the soul.


Monday, February 14, 2011


Ahh the sweet smell of salsa!                             

A dark room of forlorn smiles.

Women lost in a world of confusion.

Embracing a celebration.

Yet  enamored by the glimpse of another.

A kind one reaching out.

To bridge the gap of a young lady.

A melodic gentlemen.

Sharing his heart if just for a moment. 

Hidden in a napkin the depths of her soul.

He shows interest in what will never be. 

She seduces.

Deducts without reasoning this road will not travel.

Sounds of Latino music fill the air.

Chatter of the present. Heartaches and hopes.

Subtle smooth flowing. Quiet din in the air.

Dark tables, hands touch.  Warm fingers.  Caress the soul.

Memories of another time, another place.

Such contrast. Such similarity. 

Held fondly.  Never spoken.  Never shared.

A number secluded in the past of the road less traveled.

Forever in the clasp of her hand.

Friday, February 11, 2011

Snuggies and X-Crossed Oranges

Attempting to pacify
With  Snuggies
And X-Crossed Oranges
Fluffer-  Nutters and Apricot Jam
The heart of gold which glistens
Finds no one really listens.
What does it matter?
How shall it matter?
Does it matter?
While he is ready to fly out
To sunny vale
Over hill and dale
Her heart gently weeps
Longing for the day, the morn, when it is just a morn
With brilliant sunrise and no surprise
No mad dash off to school
 And primping and pawing
Grimacing and yawing.
As she wipes her furrowed brow
And yells "Not now!'
Temples pounding.

She is reminded that there will come a day
When the walls are quiet
And the silent sound
Is deafening.
Conceivably she'll curl up in an
Ages -past snuggie.
And peel her orange
But before she pares
She'll look for the locus where "x" marks the spot
And find it no longer remains.
So alone in her kitchen
She'll take a scalpel and tenderly pierce the rind
Bringing healing to her pain.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011


The connoisseur, the juggler                             
The madam and monsieur
Finest of strayed tightropes
Across the thermosphere
From one side to another
Only to make it part way
When the searing begins
The grasping and clasping
Holding on for dear life
The frays and the sways
Bouncing to and fro'
A few bruises
Cracked ribs
The dry tongue at the palette of the mouth
Attempting to find some bit of moisture
As it crashes
No trampoline in sight!
Cracked asphalt instead
Falling, Falling!
Nightmares increase
Screaming and shrieking out
For some sort of release!

A gentle dove hallucinatory
Gathers wholly from above
To soften the blow
Feather-like clouds
A Gasp
A Clasp
Come to a screeching halt
Head found soft upon the pillow

"Another Day,  Another Dollar"
Another Balancing Act!

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

The Author's Voice February 2011

I thought it fitting to include an imagery of snow...mounds and mounds of snow, since we in the mid-west have been pummeled lately.  As I have said before... winter brings about great creativity in writing.  Thanks to all of you who have chosen to follow.  When I first started this blog it was more or less a way of expressing  passion, and quite honestly the strange thoughts that seem to encompass at times. I never expected to have so many followers this soon, but I am delighted!  Poetry bloggers are devoted followers.  We glean so much wealth from one another.  In examining my writing I have observed that I write mostly lyrical prose.  You might see my styles change from time to time, as I attempt to stretch myself into new horizons.  I find that using imagery is helpful to interpret more meaning.  For each of you who have encouraged me on this writing journey, my fondest thanks.  My blog has become great therapy.  I cherish your comments and what each of you bring to the table. And for now I wish a tremendous winter thaw....


Monday, February 7, 2011

I often picture my grandpa's barn.
Although I have never seen him...
I imagine a field of magenta grain
On an eerie moonlit night.
Shards of glass reflecting the sky.
Sharp and piercing,
As if he were grimacing and mocking, looking upon.
Envisioning a red lit room
A madam's parlor hidden in the glow
And all the women he captured in the meadow.
Lurk about somewhere in the midst
Hidden  below.
If I listen carefully I hear their shrill cries
Beyond the bridge  
What happened in this barn I may never ponder.
But I'll cling on to the neon signs that linger.
 Posted for One Stop Poetry: Sunday

photo by:Sean McCormick you can see more of his work at 
One Stop Poetry

Sunday, February 6, 2011

The Fountain

It drains and it drains...                                                                
And it flows and it flows...
The mouth imperceptibly protruding
Opening nowhere and yet everywhere.
The streams overflow
And splash and crash
Dropping ambitiously and generously on the next onlooker's skin.
Beads of droplets and mildew staining
What appears to be the unidentifiable layer
Not to be touched
Not to be dared
Epidermis and all.
What waters creak from this fountain?
Elusive and caring
The grays, the marbles, the silhouettes
Gaunt and disturbed
Shall be quenched
By the Everlasting Thirst.

Friday, February 4, 2011


I speak as to the vulnerability of woman                     
A gentle embracing fragrance
Encapsulating the parts of mankind
And antiquity.
Wisdom finds itself among the captured, the hurt, the priceless.
Encircling universal
Her gentle touch
A whisper in the wind brings her to her knees,
And she finds herself among common people, the babies,  the toddlers, the forlorn.
Wind-swept and kept
She struggles to  maintain, to keep up the pace, to fight noises of the night
Which awaken.
If she could only learn to embrace the bellowing, the howling and speak
Find the voice within which calls her to these palaces and shanties.
The walls of gentle and crumbling brick
Yet a fortress withstands, withholds and welcomes
All who are willing.
To  take their place among the peoples
Realizing that she is not only woman, she is part of mankind
Which goes beyond gender
The rulings, the manifestos
Creeds of the ages
Each has heard the cries that concern.
Reaching out to touch those who no longer want to be touched.
But rather want to listen to the soft mellow beckoning of the wind
Embrace its folds and retreat into a surrender
Not to listen, to ignore, not ponder
There must be something more...

Hope Springs Life Eternal

Thursday, February 3, 2011


She emerges from the tepid waters and corals
Soft sultry and sudden
Sun -swept
Kissed tears
Brought to her by an angry moon
A forgotten lullaby
Tired haggard and worn
Lines appearing
She looks to the sun to brighten
Forging a way to warmer hues
Palm trees swaying
by bronzed toes
The embrace of a midnight lover
Soft swanky wet kisses
Pressed lightly about
Fantasizing about another night
Bringing out quiet sensations
Titillating sunrises
Gyrating moons
She bends
And doesn't break

A bittersweet transparent  butterfly.