The Industrious one

Goes by Beloved
My work friend
God's promise is her middle name
Lying in fear of tumors
She is brave

She Who Supplants

A girl known with a boy's name
Living in a sunny town
Watches gothic television shows
Recovering from a cliff-climbing accident

Sick to Death

Sick to death
Been there, saw that
Freedom is life's engagement
Bundles of lies and promises
Beautiful sweat
Silver chisels are forgotten

Hunting Experience

Snakes
Slither into the jungle
Whispering to the trees
Swimming in the river
Stalking their prey
Poking out their beady eyes
And their shallow tongues
Hiding in the branches till dusk

Shallow Tuesdays

Winter winds sound like cooking pans
Banging into the windows
And paint is torn from the cottages
I can't sleep
Because the wind is too noisy
To close my eyes
So I comfort my cat
Who is too scared
To poke her head out of the covers
To see if the windows are broken
I wish and pray I could be deaf

Nature's Pen

Nature's pen . . .
Takes the dullest word and makes it into a lurid sentence.
Writes poetry taste like summer's strawberries,
Too delicious to stare at.
Sways back and forth in the park's breeze.
Makes the wind tickle my cheek with its fingers, as it brushes my hair.
Dances in the moonlight to no particular melody.

If I Could Leave

If I could leave this place,
I would go to Ireland,
I hear it's nice in the spring.

If I Were an Animal

If I were an animal,
I would be a cat,
Staring out the window,
Chasing butterflies.

Raindrops

Raindrops
Puddles of purple paint
Flowing onto the paper
Making a rainbow of weather
More beautiful than any artist can paint
Crisp, cool, and brillant in the summer's breeze

Walking Home

Walking home on expanded roads and high cliffs,
Punishment for being to greedy.
A five minute race,
Mailbox is the finishe line.
Closing my eyes, pretending to be blind,
Counting the steps,
Trampling over daffodils,
The air grasps my throat,
Making my lungs ache,
Rain conquers my thirst.

The Funeral

The Funeral
to remember you this way
Singing hymms to you
Your wonderful smile
Picture frames of fuzzy memories
Hope is lingering to emptyness
Wishing for one more day
To hear your laugh
Hope you are happy

Picnic

My nose bleeds on my hand in between my fingers.
I reach for a napkin but all there are are paper towels.
Everyone stares at me like I'm an invalid.
I look into their eyes and wonder why they never get blood noses.
Maybe their noses don't run at all,
Because they're perfect in their sheltered lives.
A life full of silver napkins and metal forks.
Where chicken drowns in mashed potatoes.
And bees sip their kool-aid
Checkered tablecloths and picnick baskets.
Till their picnic is ruing by ants and my bloody nose.

Cloud

Sometimes I wish
I was a cloud
So I could look down
And see the greatest
Things in the whole world

The Yard

That empty yard
used to be full
of children, trampolines, and laughter.
Now I'm indoors,
looking out to the past.

The Garden

Gardens in Autumn,
Full of roses and grass,
The fresh sunshine,
The warm weather,
Starting to decay.

The Sky

The Sky is full
Of fragile clouds
In a storm,
Whether or not
There's sunshine.

Heaven

Walking on the ceiling,
Swirling in the air,
Standing on the clouds,
Whispering in the wind,
So this in heaven?

Monday Mornings

The wretched misery of waking up early on Monday mornings.
Having to go to yucky school.
Sleeping through class, missing the test.
Stay up late, sleep in again.
Same bad, different day.

Instant Chemistry

Instant Chemistry
Sparks friendship
Series of tug of words
Feeling inadequate
Expressing hostility
Threatened by feelings
Enough said
Lashing intentions
Little moments
Mending drama

Real

Rain hits the skin like bricks.
Hollywood has affordable stars.
Natural lips say chapped words.

Open Minds

Doubts cause trouble for your whole life.
Hysteria affect consequences.
Forgiveness wishes to take mistakes back.
Let the rain interupt your horizon.
Cloak your life with harmony.
Overcome blocks and advance.
Show people you're expanding.
Be tough minded and passion bound
Tenderness heals hearts
Close your eyes to the sunrise.

Music

I used to think
the melody of a song
represents a soul
so deep in courage
that the wind enfolds
a magical tune
over the trees
into the sunshine of revelation.
Now music is dead
and love is wrong
going forthright
into the moon
beams of joy
orcestrating forever.