Challenge: Five Poems in Five Days.

[clock1]

Three Days Down

Three Days Down

Three days down
without going down
on anyone
or putting down
poetry
prose or silly comments

Three days along
the path to pseudo
enlightment
so few know
when only three
days along

Three days without fail
or failure to be amused
flying sans muse
across other keyboards
than the one I ply

Three poems posted
into the barren
while other seeds
impregnate
loftier challanges
and I await
the inevitable crash

 

[Sara Crewe]

1

...........

 

[Sara Crewe]

2

........

 

[Sara Crewe]

3

.........

 

[Sara Crewe]

4

.......................

 

[Sara Crewe]

5

.............

 

[sassynyc]

4-1

Meltdown

Accidental defrost is the onset
and the first cracks in the ice appear
They spread, silent and deep
Topographical lines of longitude

and latitude set course through grey matter
This thawing, unexpected, is inevitable
Emotions are not subterranean creatures
Nor designed to inhabit tundra

Pardoned with Persephone’s kiss
the first icicle falls, from gilded caging
around four delicate chambers

 

[sassynyc]

4-2

Concrete against my back, as familiar as cotton
I wear hard times like a threadbare frock
We whisper the intimacy of old lovers
who complete each other’s thoughts

There is twisted comfort in well-known angst
and converse dread in foreign joy
Bottom assures, I can fall no further
Below sea level, achingly, I reside

I have been here and worn these scars before
I dress my own wounds and relieve my pain
with expert first aid, of paper and pen
I know the storyline by heart

 

[sassynyc]

4-3

Luna y Sol

I am cool rock, his eternal mirror
He is raw energy wrapped in flames
We live suspended in time and space
nowhere and everywhere at once

Ours is the first affair, a story for the ages
We define discretion, never for the world to see
We rendezvous in the galaxy
our secrets kept by stars

Day must never meet night, is the cardinal rule
The blue marble lies between us
and hers is a green eyed love

 

[sassynyc]

4-4

I am wasted on the living
The departed know this
They have trudged through my tunnels, in search
of meaning
of purpose
of self
Only to find the A to all Q’s
in blinding illumination on the other side
A light most would shun, for one more dance
with me, is the decryption of time
and it's promise to tell
Dharma is uttered at decibels
heard by those who’ve crossed Jordan
where lies, the answer to
What’s the meaning?

 

[sassynyc]

4-5

Mutiny

Echoes were the only ones to show today
Words would not come. They are soldiers
on the cutting room floor, laying
in eerie silence

Ingrates and deserters, the whole lot of them
awaiting marching orders from Muse, they claim
An alphabet army playing possum
They have me convinced

I am left with a sword that spills
not blood, but ink
and nary a comrade in sight

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

1-5

These are the days
when we hold our breath
as leaves turn on their sun
and the earth folds in
quiet in its slumber.
Bitter days await us
long nights of cold knives
biting winds that creak our bones
and slam smoke back into our eyes.
But we are patient knowing
the snow will fly away
and dormant buds will swell
pregnant with hope.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

2-5

Jazzy

At the shelter
they did not tell us her age,
a tiny thing with black fur
so hoarse from crying she could only croak.
She was all ears and eyes
and never did learn the art
of purring.

We took her from the din of dogs
and her two boisterous brothers,
lifting her from the food bowl
where she fiercely protected her share
and brought Jazzy home.

She repaid that deed a thousand fold
an ebony beauty
sensitive to our every mood,
a gentle companion at the foot of the bed.

Now her sleekness is disheveled,
her gait distorted by arthritis
which she vainly tries to lick away
and yet she springs up on laps
and hurries, tottering slightly, to greet.

Her amber eyes are dimmer
and her face hollow-cheeked
but her heart is strong and love
is in her unflinching gaze.
How does one gauge
the quality of a cat’s life?

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

3-5

Out of the Blue

“Wait for me” he’d said and I would have
but time moved on sweeping him away.
Distance dimmed our passion,
he wrote books that sold,
I recognized myself always alone
and waiting, just as he’d asked.

Today he called and my heart leapt
at his voice.
There were unspoken things to say
but he just said, “I have cancer.”
The room spun, the world slowed,
I could not speak so he said ‘It’s OK”
knowing I was crying.
I could hear the smile in his voice.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

4-5

Return Journey

One day, often after noon,
the air changes.

We hear them faintly
and stop what we are doing,
raking awake the dead lawn,
searching for our car
in the barren parking lot
or just breathing in spring
and raise our heads.

It takes a while
to see them pressed hard
against the new blue, a fine line
drawn forward by an ancient urge,
calling,
calling,
constant clamour of encouragement.

Wings weary from the journey
are refreshed by the scent
of familiar wet lands
and the memory of sweet grass.

 

[loststar]

1

i took your pictures out of mine today
packed my books
what do i do with your gifts
opened a bank account
deposited my hope

cleansing as much as i can
preparing for the unknown
picked up your mail
let you dump your mess
that i helped you create

called on a bluff
i screamed today
for walls that have heard worse
i need to let you hate me
i am strong enough now

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

5-5

On The Street Where I Lived

A cul-de-sac in England,
no brick wall ending
but an elegant wrought iron gate.
Behind it paradise for a teenage girl,
a private boy's school,
fee paying, rugby playing,
science fair winners,
brainy jocks. Who
could ask for more?

But we moved away
and I left crushed crushes
in the bike sheds.
No memory of me remains;
ivy covers childhood crimes
and the swimming pool,
scene of secret midnight swims,
is gone making way
for computer labs.

Girls mingle legally
with boys at Assembly now
voices sing no hymns,
the thrill of illicit exploration gone.
You can't go back.

 

[loststar]

2

hope

durable
survives pain
my pain
even yours

hope

elastic
stretching dreams
to fit
my life

hope

strong
shaping me
gently teaching
with love

 

[loststar]

3

cobra strike

thought you could charm me
but magic only entrances for so long
the hood is up
the loud hiss beginning to charm you
the sway drawing your eye
in this moment, this dance
we hold
one
another

then it is I that strikes
and you that is wounded

 

[PandoraGlitters]

one

soft

soft

hands like whispers
soothe and teach

the way wind
teaches wheat

to dance

so you have smoothed
the rip left
by the rat's long
yellow
teeth

so you have brought
the little song
that pulls my toes
to point
at yours

as I face my sister
my kindest mirror

leaning in to kiss

softly

softly

 

[zack_constantine]

Sonnets for Barbara, 1/5

It’s not just that I am mesmerized
By all those swells and folds:
Her flesh, the wave of hip,
That long, white slide of thigh. There is
The faint scent of ginger blooming
On the red table of her lips, the break
In her eager voice, the tap and click
Of heels over terra cotta tile
As she meets me at the Tuscany for lunch.
There is all of this, and yet somehow
When submerged beneath the growl and wash
Of uncontrol over her body, no love
Abounds. For I am ever only ravenous
And one must always starve alone.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

two

Curse of the Pregnant Teen


Perhaps it is kindness
to think it was only their distance
from the precocious Madonna
that kept them from seeing
her truth

but they jeered Hey baby
wooo so sexy, want to come
to our barbecue? Laughter
as she waddled, eight months
along. The men jeered, You could be
the pig. Congratulatory guffaws.
Probably they expected
her to keep walking, the shafts
of their arrows sticking
out of her back as she walked
silent in her suffering
however

she turned. I hope none of your mothers
were treated this way when you
three were in their bellies. I hope
your future wives will see your snouts
and will leave you before they become
infected by your hatred. I hope
one day you are fat as Falstaffs
but never funnier than this
moment.

They sobered
grumbled, could you tell
that bitch was pregnant?
Me either.

 

[zack_constantine]

Sonnets for Barbara, 2/5

She calls it play, this fight,
This frantic clash and race
To our two alien orgasms. I play
Because her sighs and humbled moans
Drag me from my own redoubt,
To which a long, stuttering fall
Into the dark release of Thanatos,
The confluence of Styx and Lethe,
Is where I don’t want to yet want to go.
In this emptiness, this waste,
We call each other’s name
In the Old Tongue, that ancient
Language of imperative, of need,
For that’s the one speech we both know.

 

[loststar]

4

Throw the dishes
porcelain basket weave
shatter against the wall
perfect wine goblets
shards
mug, saucer, cream and sugar
on the floor
the best china
sails with magistracy
performance art
that leaves
a beautiful mosaic of destruction

 

[zack_constantine]

Sonnets for Barbara, 3/5

Over the rockfall of desire
Runs no clear path. One must leap
From boulder to wobbly boulder,
Taking care not to dislodge
Another stream of stone.
Occasionally, one finds a cairn
Or trace of laser-lifted tattoo that marks
The passage of an earlier traveler
Over the nervous talus and scree
Of her imperfect body. With luck,
These are the enigmatic runes
Left by some predecessor Saknussemm
That guide an intrepid Lidenbrock
Into the centre of her Earth.