007 Challenge

[Lyricalli]

2-003

Katie, I am beyond flattered that my words inspired you to write that poem. It is so good. I'm such a fan of your writing.

I wish I didn't have to follow it, but I do.



Olly Olly Oxen Free

We're both in this game
uncertain of the rules
where you hide and I seek

Time ticks by
and I start to feel
anxious as a child
cursing the darkening sky
and the street lights
that will start to flicker on

So, I grasp for clues
and sometimes straws
try to understand their meaning
occasionally run flat out
in the wrong direction
not knowing how my search will end
or if you'll let me find you
before it's too dark to see

I never liked being It

.

 

[KatieJones]

Aw, thanks!! Ditto Lyricalli!!


Resilience

The roots of the willow stretch
beyond its wide canopy
that sways like hips in the wind
letting only certain rays drop
onto the grassy carpet where I rest
my head. Its full of nothing
and everything and spins
until my thought machine
lands on a contemplation of life,
death and my constant search
for mirrors in the world in order to see
who I am. Out of the sun,
flowers, leaves, branches and trunk I feel
reflected most by the roots who hide
in the dark but are forced by drought
to surface in search for the rain
in the face of the unrelenting light.

 

[KatieJones]

Deadman Bay

My board slides across waters
that ripple only from the push
of my paddle. I am Jesus
with a floating floor-a miracle-free version,
sans divinity with no ability to save
the soul. My perspective is different
than his or any other captains whose eyes land
on horizon or shore. I look down
into the depths of Deadman Bay
where sixty-six feet seems close
to the surface and ghost cries bubble
up from the bones of Princess Charlotte
and Prince Regents’ mossy skeletons.

We all balance the unfathomable.
Water gives life but today there is no blessing
or oasis only a window framing loss.
A once well-armed couple designed
to fight against Uncle Sam in a battle
that never happened, lie together
sunk in shame for their lack of glory.

I traverse this liquid cemetery
which seems too small to be so deadly
on a vessel designed to move forward
but all I can do is look back, think of the end
and feel a little sad that it often arrives
without poetry or purpose.

 

[Lyricalli]

2-004

You Told Me She Could Write

Her words rip through me
the way you do
killing me not-so-softly
with her poetry

because she knows

She had her version of you
the overwhelming too much
and not nearly enough
of it all
that may make me crazy

I'm okay with that

So we revel
she and I
in her lines and curses
toast our questionable sanity
that would choose again
these verses, naked and wanton
wanting
until it hurts

because this is fucking poetry, baby

And I want to feel every word
let it burn to my bones
where you've etched the art
that she's excavating


.

 

[KatieJones]

PoetLand

I crack an egg into a bowl and beat
it into the batter. The spoon circles
mesmerize my eyes and a long ago memorized
recipe allows my mind to go inside
the looking glass and lie down on a leather couch
ready for analysis by a doctor who looks strangely
like a self-portrait as painted by Van Gogh
which is pompous even for my subconscious
since I have only ever painted walls.
Her features are restless and she devolves
into a Ms. Potato Head version of me
with only one eye and no mouth. Inexplicable.
Even Alice would have been confused.
So I stop looking at myself for a second
and realize I am in that place far inside
where poets play pin the metaphor
on the donkey and his friend and the barn
and the sky above the barn but I digress
which is also what we do
until we come back around and conclude
that in the end an egg is never just an egg.
Today it’s autobiographical. Cold and hard
until someone breaks our shells, adds sugar
and whips until we transform
into something sweet and warm.
When the oven timer dings the doctor who at last glance
looked like Ghandi is gone. I roll off the couch
button up my shirt that covers the secret P
I wear on my chest and return to regular programming
and consciousness, pretending
to be a person who simply made brownies
and is all out of eggs.

 

[KatieJones]

7

I read the text again
and again
and again.

Let’s meet for drinks.

I’m finished my second
and tired of talking
to an empty chair.
My phone flashes
with your name
calling
calling
but I am done
with your words.
Oddly I hear George Bush
say, "Fool me once..."
and decide it's not enough
just to hang up.

Delete contact

I walk away
telling the waitress
it’s just allergies
to avoid the sympathy
that would feel like a second slap.

 

[Lyricalli]

Great finish, Katie! I just need to find three more in me, now. It's been such a pleasure sharing the 007 with you.

 

[Lyricalli]

2-005

Typhoon Season

The tempest swirls
waves rise and crash
taking the toll
that must be paid
by the shore

The wind whips
through my hair
salt water stings
my face
clouds my visibility

It's no matter
I stopped seeking shelter
long ago
to stand my ground
in these shifting sands

Where all I have to give
to lose
are the words I offer
to you and this storm
and the fervent heart
that guides them

 

[KatieJones]

Great finish, Katie! I just need to find three more in me, now. It's been such a pleasure sharing the 007 with you.

Thanks, Calli! I couldn't have asked for better company!

 

[Lyricalli]

2-006

It must get easier
eventually
repetition creates normalcy
doesn't it?

All the little cuts
just deep enough
to make me flinch

A little balm
some tenderness
a bit of time to heal
and I'll keep exposing
my skin for you
to take it all
as my due

Try as I might
I can't decide
if it's better
or worse
to know that
you're bleeding too

 

[Lyricalli]

2-007

I Found What I Wasn't Looking For

I vaguely remember the phone call
or I think I do
it had been a while
just casual conversation
we'd talk again soon

For us, 'soon' had become months
at least once, a year
and I wasn't alarmed
when your number wasn't yours

Was slightly annoyed
before growing concerned
over unanswered emails
then the one that got returned
undeliverable

So I googled
(it had become a verb by then)
your name, a variation or two
maybe it was a few seconds
or several minutes
before I reacted to the news

I just know the world stood still
as it changed
became a different place
where you weren't
and I crumbled under the weight
of how wrong that was

And, I'll never know why
you didn't tell me
soon was running out of time

 

[KatieJones]

1

Alone

She always sits alone
her face tilted just enough
to hide the colour of her eyes
and shade the pink that creeps
into her cheeks when a crowd passes
or laughter erupts from another table.

She seems serene
from a distance he decides
that cape of serenity is threaded
with an icy disinterest but in reality
the only ice she feels
connected to is the spilled
cube that has fallen from the mouth
of the pitcher. It melts
behind the candle-overshadowed
by the light and slowly disappears
into the tablecloth, waiting to be
noticed and scooped up by his hand
before it's too late.

 

[Lyricalli]

3-001

(Thought I might share your company again.)


Exposition

There's a bittersweet symphony
in the songs we used to share
that sing through my thoughts
often unbidden
they suddenly appear
startling memories of you
not unwelcome
even in their discomfort
accompanied by a wistful smile
and a sting in my eyes
silent reminders
that you are my ode to joy
and sorrow

 

[KatieJones]

2

(Your company is always welcome! )


Nature

She wants to stick to the plan
ensure passion is all penned
up for the night. Keep
her distance
only touch
the canvas with her palette knife
and maybe if she really has to
the soft bristles of her brush
but as she tries to capture
nature it runs free
until her cheek is streaked
with a little indigo
and her lopsided ponytail has been dipped
in both the sky and the sea
and her hands look like she played
the rainbow harp in the sky.

She sighs at the inevitability
of her Phoenix
but it’s with a smile.

 

[todski28]

Colours run their life-like poses
sunset harmony with the harbour's blue
Ice left melting on the table top
abandoned
its cold tears slide in slow speed

as hands left idle want for better things
to mischief, to feel
the rushing pulse of another's warmth

we shared an orchestra of songs
dancing on the dunes
of wind-swept beaches
a blossom landed in your hair
I wanted to kiss the salted droplets from your lips
retrace every curve
every step that drifted along the shore
where we waded in
kicking water

how I laughed when you splashed
the uptight bikini-clad hottie
saying sorry when you're giggling is always the
best apology you can make

if she can't see the sapphire-sun
blossoming in your eyes
the hunger built in the back and forth
then fuck her, because we're moving
and she is lying still...

I take my leave of made-up reverie
I pass you there sitting with your head tilted
and reach for the cube of ice

hope you become
at least
a bittersweet symphony

 

[Lyricalli]

3-002

You sang to me
perhaps involuntarily
taken away by the moment
maybe for a minute
forgot I was there
or didn't

And you sang
along with me
awkward carefree harmonies
and I knew
we were one
of those good things
you crooned in my ear

 

[todski28]

Fingers trace etched ink
tickling dense muscule
playing tunes of doom and ruin
in the key of F-Major

her curiosity was taut
with ample cues
the way she moved
her eyes hungered to devour every ounce
of knowledge a man has garnered over his life
to lay it down
on the matress and show her
fantasies are tangible
within reach
that the times she lay awake
trembling passion alight on the tips of her fingers
were simply practice

A way to clue her body to recieve
a bounty that only she is able to
grasp in sweaty palms
and whispered psalms entreaties
to deities that live below the navel..

take the resistance in tension
twist it
play with the molecules in the air until
they hummm about
tight unwavering in the vibrations
til the skin is tingling
and I want to feel
the electricities static embrace
and she wants torn buttons
pulled hair
and a reflection to last
in stained glass memories
and tattoos traced on her fingertips

 

[KatieJones]

3

One of a Kind


When you’re young
bombs are just noises
you make with your mouth
that send friends flying
and laughing through the air
but when it’s not a game
there’s no soft landing
or time to run away
from the small missiles
that detonation and science send
in search of a destination.

Sometimes the hand of gravity
catches them but often they rip
into a sister’s flesh or crack
a brother’s skeleton ending their story
and ensuring they are without
another day to play.

The trajectory of their loss
is not contained in just one skin
the shrapnel continues
through every person
that person knew
and every person
they were supposed to know
and it splinters into the minds
of all young people
who learn to fear
a time when hate will shoot
its way through their lives
while the grownups worry too
about when they may lose
unaware we have already lost.

Lost our ability to look at a face
and see reflection. See
that we are without
virtue never mind the three
and wrap ourselves in the selfish
comfort that so far,
it’s someone else’s story
being edited. When we see
an image of a boy's stoic face
we should weep for his torn flesh
and burned skin but more so
because he does not. In his life
pain is normal, death is constant
and peace is a fairy tale.

He needs you to see him
not as a stranger
to step in
sacrifice
risk
embrace the world
as your home
and its people as your family.

Stop unconsciously congratulating
yourself for being sad
right before you turn
the channel
the page
away

closing your eyes
to the red
running through the streets
so sure that someone else
will save us all and that you’re safe.

 

[Lyricalli]

One of a Kind

Damn.

Just... Damn.

 

[KatieJones]

4

Reincarnation

I know the sound of letting go.

It’s a series of to-do lists
read aloud over and over
as each item is checked
off and packed
-pictures
-pillows
-clothes
-books.

Followed by flurry of goodbyes,
going away presents
and get togethers.

Then it’s forgettable songs
on the car radio that fall
into the distraction
and uncertainty of the uncharted.

We are both quiet
breathing through
the pain and beauty
of new life being born.

When we stop
I can’t help but think
how inelegant all the talk
of nests and flying birds is
and how the moments
that are monumental
play out small
and it all comes back
to the destiny of everyday
and the inertia of a life
that says bodies in motion
must stay in motion. When we finish
unpacking, eighteen years
is punctuated with a smile
and a quick hug.
We drown in words
so we swallow them all
because in the end
none are needed.

She knows and I know.

There are no tears
because life goes on.
It’s just happening
in a new apartment
and in a different city
than her Mama.

And that’s the way
it’s supposed to be.

 

[todski28]

I wonder how many times
I've cracked hearts like eggs for an omelette

handed to me as easy as words that flow
from the muse
ones that dig in
grab hold of your chest
and just start fucking yanking...
only it isn't me doing it.... or is it

at what point is a smile
a gesture of kindness
an uplifting moment of laughter
shared
at what point in all of that
did I ask for any of it?

Apparently to all but me strolling on
cock-sure a certain type of
charming-smug-jackass
seems to be an invite for

Panties
Hearts
Vaginas
And House keys to be thrown in a bowl

As if I'm a sax man
playing solo tunes of blues that haunt
to the point of goosebumped flesh
our eyes locked in a moment as intimate as sex
while that tune whispers....
I don't even know what it whispers
because that's not my voice

Mine is simply here in my own moment
and you colided with it

 

[todski28]

The bar bends
flexing steel bows to gravity
teeth crush together grinding
body shakes against the weights
plates clank to the floor at tension release

I want to give up
to collapse

but there are pressures
they want to see what you can do
marvel at how you can do the impossible

Impossible to them because they don't have the guts
to strain until it hurts
until it quits
until you are walking like a car acxident victim

They are smarter than that,
watch, egg you on
stroke the ego attached to swelling muscles
push until you drive yourself insane
with
I have to do this on my own thoughts

you look over and see two men sharing a load
while you run with more than they can carry together
lost in madness
of expectation


Somehow i have become the sum
of scar tissue
and ache in my bone

 

[Lyricalli]

3-003

Swallowed up
and hollowed out
by supposed-to
trying to keep promises
I never made
in quiet moments
when something other
than what is
beckons my attention
invites me to follow
down paths I'm told
I shouldn't go

 

[KatieJones]

5

Orange and Black

The end of season falls slowly
filled with ambivalent sighs
of grace and colour. Trees burn
like cool torches and the petal-less
pupils of black-eyed susans stare
unblinking into the heavy sun.

Monarchs struggle like lost balloons
long ago filled with gas
and geese are strung out
across the sky, disappearing
black notes in a score
both read and heard
from the ephemeral earth. A song
that sounds the long goodbye.

 

[KatieJones]

6

Out of Reach and Time

We are born knowing
air, milk and a mother’s arms
but when we fall
from that embrace
the world finds weakness
behind our eyes and reaches
inside our skulls to steal
the notes of everything
we know for certain
throws it on the wind
where it sails
down the street, tumbling
along concrete alleys
with the other refuse.

We run behind
always
grasping
one step too slow
in the search
for the pieces
of who we are supposed to be.