Portrait Of An Old Monkey

Portrait Of An Old Monkey

Monkey

with a white nose

has rages like matchflames

in a spelunker's cathedral,            

sudden                

then dead, blown as quick as they're lit;

has joys small as gumdrops,        

all swallowed whole

too fast.

Monkey

drops her red hat

in gold light's lost orange trees;

sees amethyst twilight turn black...

forgets.

~February 2013

posted for   real toads

Sunday Mini-Challenge: The Cinquin

Marian Kent of runaway sentence turns her considerable talents with the cinquin into a workshop where we can explore the many variations on this tight, five-line, syllable-counting form. 

Process Notes: This poem is composed of a Butterfly Cinquin (2-4-6-8-2-8-6-4-2) followed by a traditional five line cinquin (2-4-6-8-2)

Image: Portrait of a Monkey, by George Stubbs, 1774
Public Domain, via wikipaintings.org

Summer Flowers, Winter Snow

I am going to be absent for awhile, friends and readers, due to some minor health issues. Nothing to worry about, but it's just not possible for me to spend a lot of time on the computer at the moment. I hope to be back soon, but till then, here are some garden pictures to look at. Thanks to everyone for their readership and support, and may summer flowers always bloom through your winter snows...

Rosa meidiland "Magic Meidiland' also known as Cthulu

Canna 'Dawn Pink' and Daylily 'Destined To See'

Zinnia 'Violet Queen'

Canna 'Richard Wallace'

photos (c) joyannjones

Moon Song

Moon Song

The moon sang the sun out

but not for long.

You spread my hair over

fever chills like a paisley shawl.

Your tears ran down my face

a spirit veil, wet lace.

Your lips walked

from one corner of my town

to the river's edge

while your broker's eyes

asked always for 

the goods I didn’t have.

Your hands stamped

the passport of my spine,

chased silver the leaves of

dove occluded sky. Dawn placed

the rose grey seal. And so we boarded; 

one life parted from the next,

in fire, then ash, blown across

the guarded border, where

whistles shrilled and every flag blew out.

On a planet where rocks dreamed

the sun sang out the moon,

but not for long. 

~January 2013





If you'd like to hear the poem read by the author, please click below:

moon song by Hedgewitch O'theWilds

Image: Salagou by moonlight, by Petteri Sulonen, on flick'r
Petteri's photostream
Shared under a Creative Commons License

Thank you, Petteri,  for the use of your work, illustration and inspiration, as always.

Xmas At The Xroads

Xmas at the Xroads

From the roof,

the stone kicked over the edge

falling 

   falling

is invisible.

You should never have made the mistake

of putting me in such

a shallow grave,

where I could still hear the goatman

blow blues sax in the christmas cards,

see the monster truck, 

dirtyred with primer,

smeared with tiny reindeer

towed from the wreck of a seventy-six sleigh

pileup on the lost highway.

You should have taken

the time to speak the words

to keep me from walking (or

at least buried me

at the Xroads)

because when Miss X (the prickly Virgin)

slammed metal door number nine on

the announcer's chickeny neck

rather than pick which one might open to glory,

the building got ugly-empty.

Your Xmas lights

just made it look cheap.

All the tinsel stuck to

all the hard work you stole,

all the blueprints gone toxic;

no one could save it,

so that the roof 

falling

was

invisible as a stone.

~January 2013

Posted for   Poetics   at dVerse Poet's Pub

Brian's grabbed the mic today to get us to tackle the topic of mass media, mass communication, etc. I think all my regular readers know just how much I love the Xmas season, so that was where I went. 

Images: Same to You, by lalawren, posted on flick'r

Christmas Stable Decration, by rockbadger on flick'r

 shared under a Creative Commons License