Prometheus

Prometheus

Wiregrass and sassafras

strangle in the dust

of the dreadful dream.

Starwine and alkaline

bottled in the past,

the cellared scream

of something trapped

something up-lapping

dry stream.

Hyacinth vine and columbine

trail over the

jagged hole

in vulture sky, alibi

 rejected

for the heat he stole

when 

so long ago

 he saw her soul.

~May 2013

55 nibbles at the liver for    the g-man

Image: Prometheus, by Arnold Böcklin, 1883
Public domain, via wikipaintings.org

Saferoom

Saferoom

Wrinkled pansy sky,

a sunshadow day

where you're constantly 

shaking

the clouds out 

of your eyes;

wrapped in a raincoat

of insect 

and bird bubbles,

earthcrumble fingers, a

sway-bending partner of shovels,

slide-pusher of rake backs,

leveling the world

to make a saferoom 

for what's born

to blow away.

 ~May 2013

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Challenge: Words Count with Mama Zen

The terse and tres talented Mama Zen's challenge today is to  'Imagine yourself in the safest place you've ever known,' and write about it in 53 words or less. I have actually come in *under* the word count, for the first time ever.

Spring Song

Spring Song

The cat's paw is in the wave.

The mouse ship is bound for the grave.

The sailors all are sleeping.

The sailors all will sleep.

The wolf maw is in the water.

The bobbing boat is a rabbit's daughter.

The water wolves are eating.

The wolfen all will eat.

The moth's wing is unfolding the sun.

The pink in the flower has barely begun.

The irises are singing.

The iris all will sing.

The heart's spring is in the meadow,

the harvesting will surely follow

what sowers all are bringing,

what lovers all will bring.

~May 2013

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Open Link Monday

Process Notes: Yes, I read myself to sleep with Yeats last night.

Image: Irises, by Vincent Van Gogh, 1889

Public domain.

Urban Refusal

Urban Refusal

I remember, mostly,

the sunlight, the dirt that danced,

the gleam off glass, for sunlight does fall

on the damned

and even the concrete bleeds green

when the cavalry of weeds

sabers it apart.

Every day

when I ran away,

I saddled my pink Schwinn

palamino for the broken brick trails, cap gun on hip,

free running in sun that stroked silver

 a handlebar mane, free not to feel,  just to

 ride for the Duke and his five-pointed star.

She let him hurt me but

he never scared me. 

I smelled his weakness, a clowning

in smoke and beer, his wet whiskey blankets

that cold-covered nothing. I knew I was already

gone where he would never be

even if at night there was

no sun and the Duke

was somewhere else.

~May 2013

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Challenge: Fireblossom Friday

Location, Location, Location!

The ever versatile Fireblossom asks us to write a poem where location is important, or as she puts it, "...just make sure that the "where" of the poem is a vital part of it." 

Optional Musical Accompaniment

Image: 1950's Pink Schwinn, ©GlamourGirlChic2012 via etsy.com

Heart Defended

Heart Defended

The house cracked open

in the hands of the storm

all except for its heart,

 and its hard rib-bone.

It gave up no secrets

 from down on its knees,

just its pale flesh, wind-mingled

with the lives of trees.

The debris ball bounced;

things flew, things ended.

Walls turned to wind,

but the heart defended.

~May 2013

55 bits of whirling debris for     the g-man

For those interested in contributing to Red Cross Disaster Relief for the Moore Oklahoma tornado, here is the link:

http://www.redcross.org/charitable-donations

Hover mouse for image attribution, or click to go to the photographer's flick'r page.