Challenge: Five Poems in Five Days.

[PandoraGlitters]

one

At this moment, I see my reflection
opening in a shell of white petals
your iris dilating its first vision
of a vivid new world--the world behind me,
its wide shine against midnight leaking in waves
to my face.

See what comes
of scratching at windows? I have hung
the pane carefully this time.
It will shine the black leather right
back to you, all night, even through the layers
and layers of glass and plasma.
Even through blades lit and burning wax
mornings of sunburn

skinless and everyone too close. Bit lip
hit my thumb but still I tack the frame,
place the window aligned with the others
so, come sunrise, you may see frost dissolve
into the dancing hem of my sundress
over barefoot grass and give yourself
to my summer warm hands.

 

[sassynyc]

Encore - (1)

A five night tour
on the poetry circuit,
playing in the most
beautiful of bands,
has left me with
an insatiable word lust

I crave the free flowing lines,
that leech bleached pages,
like an endorphin rush
of climactic proportions

If you have never known
the opiate high of words
I recommend this
most basic indulgence

Completely strung out,
I need
yet another fix

 

[Tzara]

trois

Cartography

On my knees
in the yard, I pull
stubborn strings of grass
from new churned earth
in the bed.

The treble scrape
of violin flits
about my head, out
an opened window.
My hands are scratched

by bark and soil
and my glasses slip
low on my nose
down the thin stream
of my sweat.

But the stir, the sprout
in my hung, idle body
as I recall the girl who passed
in a white sundress.
The map of her back.


.

 

[sassynyc]

Swatches - (2)

Gold is the color of conversation
between well Traned saxophone riffs,
my ear drums and nerve endings.
Notes drip richly through my speakers
as hot buttered soul, melting sunshine.

Crystalline snowdrift is the coat
I’ve painted on my future. Radiant
to reflect the ornate beauty
of all that is to furnish my path.
This too, is the color of muted noise
and blanketed distraction
stirred and dissolved into nothingness.

My heart pumps red, visceral illumination
by which to clearly read me.
A fine color for hearts, but never for sleeves.
Silver is designated to sleeves.
A buffed and shined spin on grey.
That color that says, “neither here, nor there”
Refusal to sprout roots, lest you think I care.

Green is the stain of suspicion
on an iris that no longer trusts
Envy leaked from unseen emerald tears,
salted and turned to stone

Icelandic blue chill rises and spreads
like an effervescent geyser gush.
Stardust sprinkled behind eyelids
introduce me to God, and the color of release.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

two (Happy Birthday Bijou)

Imagine that some high class jewel thief
swings into your window and of course your heart
stops. Imagine her framed by the dark room,
naked and unrepentant -- her slung saxophone
detonating a twitch in your fingers, your mouth pursed
whispering passwords required to play her.
You reach down for two stones
big enough to hold the shutters open.
You aren't kidding her. You have nothing
she can steal. All you can do is offer
to hold her in place if she tips back.
She picks her exits like locks
now rocks on the sill, head heavy for
the open night. But here imagine
your charm wins out (why not! it is your
fantasy, damnit!) and she leans back
to admire your hat.

 

[Tzara]

quatre

undertow

caught out in deep water
I point her body at the shallows
and thrust against the tide

the stolid moon
implacable
strains to pull us out to sea

with patient strokes
hands and legs and steady breathing
we near the shore

and in time lie spent
heavy in wet sand
seafoam

flecks and strings
bedeck our now quiet
skin

while we yearn
for greener and for deeper waters
still


.

 

[sassynyc]

No Better, Now I Know Better - (3)

Is this what comes of healing?
Excavating old wounds, pounding rock
bottom. Sediment shifts, my footing unsure.
I sought you for guidance, but found
your compass broken, and indeed
the emperor wears no clothes.
My concerns rearranged, chicly dressed
with question marks. Haven’t we met?
Surely, you know me as swift. I
recognize regurgitation, and
the stench that comes with it.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

three

mercy

is the white lick that splits
me from consciousness
splicing in

a developing sequence:
two mist shoes I follow

to the back of the garden
yes there next to the stalks
of monkshood and all their soft
purple clitorises glittering

for your breath and who
could blame them

 

[Tzara]

.

.....

 

[sassynyc]

Attic Mice (A Found Poem) - 4

Didn’t she love her children?
It wasn’t that.
She would assure her darlings ~ later.
For now, there was fortune in kept secrets.
Children know little of the devil
and his devious works.
Her dying father did know.
So did her superstitious mother.
Her children would know.
But she must keep the children a secret
~ for just a little while ~
A dark attic would house her children,
her happiness, her fortune
for just a little while.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

four

of course it doesn't matter
what tie he swings
when he struts into the bathroom
to feel his sweet sting
palmed in the other

emerging into the club with loose steps
smiling like he knows what we will never can never
the life of a pirate
he has mementos, jesus

just ask he'll show you
the thick healed band across his ribs

you know he'll end in tragedy
but it's hard to worry when you see how well
he'll dodge traffic
hop a cab home and run from the cabbie

 

[sassynyc]

5

I lay supine, embedded in blades
of fragrant grass. Loose earth beneath
me welcomes my stretch of limbs. From
this sweet spot I can see the expanse
of lake through swaying green. In the glow
of dusk, butterflies dance to a frenetic tune
I cannot hear. There is peace in this stillness.
All is quiet except the gentle hum
of gracefully winged things
that dance under the cover of night. Silence
is shattered by the sound of weight slicing
through water. Silken midnight breaks
the water’s surface and comes to full halt
upon seeing me here. He’s decided against
false modesty, and smiles, as do I.
What’s a little naked between neighbors?

 

[PandoraGlitters]

five

Angel your black wings
are soft as the dark of sleep
and the perfume they spread clings
to the nose like hashish, like opium.
Perhaps that's why I crave you
with my body, so.

Your wings are strong enough to lift
both of us up and through
panes of truth and into
wind rush where we must embrace
against the chill and in this cocoon
of you, I find a new born world
living between us.

 

[Eluard]

, , ,

 

[NALA CAYENNE]

one

She asked him for roses.

He gave soft kisses and sunshine,
understanding and praise, support,
correction when needed.
His shoulder and ear. Arms for hugs.
Happiness. Roses die,
he’d say, like love forced
from hearts not bound. We
are luckier than that.

He believed they were more.
She believed it was true.

 

[sassynyc]

1

Rorschach: Day 2 (This is a link to the picture the poem is based upon)

Black inked over cautionary yellow.
The strategic crop of the frame
and all that it implies. Certainly this
is a shrink’s wet dream, of Freudian
design. One phallic line and two orbs
make for endless erotic equations.


……………………………………............2 balls + 1 bat = HE
……………………………………............1 chassis + 2 headlights = SHE
……………………………………............------ + > = ----> thus = THEY

…………………………………...............A captain and his mates set sail
…………………………………...............for the Devil’s Triangle. Along the way
…………………………………...............they ventured French waters, returning
…………………………………...............with bounty of pearl necklaces.


Yet today, Freud will not get off.
For all I see, is a gaunt faced man
with a pointed chin. Neurotically
dilated pupils, with mouth agape.
He lives in the harried state of
Perpetual Fright. Such proximity
to power lines wreaks havoc with
his sense of well being.

 

[NALA CAYENNE]

two

LIFE STORIES

I write of life
And of experience of the world
All around me-

The love of a man for his woman
And the generosity
With which he gives of that love
From the depths of his soul,
The deepest state of his being-

The hate from a babe all alone
In a world of savages & unshed tears
Where lost dreams overpower happy times
And a grave is the hole that your life is in
And you’ve no way to climb out-

The dreams of a world of peace
Where buildings & bridges are built,
Not crumbled
And where every table has food to nourish,
Each head has pillow to lie on
In a home filled with love, honesty,
No threat of abuse nor scorn-

The passion of spouse for their mate
And of parents for kids abound,
Exquisite art & poetry & life in itself,
Of nature & work,
For things you can change
And someday will-

I write for the sheer joy of writing,
For the worlds experiences are mine
And behind every one experience,
There’s a story to be told.

 

[sassynyc]

2


Rorschach - 3 link

I see mercy, tie-dyed and sculpted
amid wild flora. Stoned skin
sweats and bleeds, psychedelic.
Angelic savior descended on wings,
tipped in the color of majesty
to lift, he who is broken in body,
in spirit. The day burns, unforgiving
napalm. And there is no fight
left to give up. There is only his ghost.
It is already gone.

 

[NALA CAYENNE]

3

TO BE

The mind asks acceptance first
and then the will to survive
and then to be able to live with pride
and then finally, release from pain
and then to give in
and then to move on
and then if it should come to pass,
the hopes of dreams and wishes,
the chance to BE.

 

[NALA CAYENNE]

4

FLIGHT

What hides inside us, those thoughts
that either soothe or confuse,
motivate or hinder,
give us pause
to change our life’s direction.

But the soul needs, the wants, create
solace of the heart
and strength to keep dreams alive.

Words become our savior, some decide
our fate, if only we let them fly.

 

[loststar]

one

A quiet kiss
in public
a questioning kiss
is this ok
my smile says yes
my mind grapples with this
novel oddity (me)
yes it is ok
for me anyway
for now anyway
I'll work the details of decision
later
this moment was a choice
cemented in sobriety
and the look on his face (mirroring my own I am sure)
made what is a hard road
more clear

 

[Tzara]

.

.....

 

[sassynyc]

Rorschach - 4


Can you see the great brown bear?
Adorned in a printed robe
and plush green sash
He is bent, ever so slightly,
as if standing sentry,
behind the young girl
with the tumble of brown curls
She wears a pink coat, from which
beneath, peeks orange pants
She stands at the river's edge,
looking for answers
in the current

 

[nickdelight]

Glamour of an Amber Jewel (1)

A jeweled disc
Among the pebbles of the beach;
Opaque amber, smooth as cream;
Sparkling with the rays of the retreating sun
It calls me to it
In a silent siren song.
I bend to pick
This treasure in the sea;
The waves wash my gritty hands and silty feet;
Then grey-green shelled crabs
Dance in a circle,
Clicking their claws in time,
To a mermaid singing.

The song is about my siren jewel,
From the treasure trove of Mother Sea
The waves, her caressing hands,
Smoothed and polished it.
Then the truth,
It’s nothing but broken glass.

The singing stops
The crabs withdraw,
Their castanet claws clicking in time
To a different beat.
I close my hand tightly
Around the amber glass.
It’s warm from my touch;
Raising it to the level of my eye
I see the neon sky -
In a different light.

 

[NALA CAYENNE]

5

TEACHINGS

I learned from my mother how to
be strong (for in my eyes her weakness
motivated me); to help those you can
and empathize with those you can’t;
to always have food and wine
for visitors. I learned to save jars
and boxes and other containers to hold
precious treasures; to de-bone fish
and remove scales so the skin is slick.
I learned to snub family who wronged me,
stay close to those who didn’t and keep
in contact as necessary just so they know
I’m alive. I learned to speak my mind.
Why lie about how I feel or hide
my thoughts.
I learned that no one will believe
in me if I don’t.
Like an artist, I learned to create
shoulders big enough to bear
the weight of all and not complain
when people abuse that…even family.
To every broken soul, offer healing words:
a card or poem, a sentiment that
comes from the heart.