A Game: Make Me See It!

[WickedEve]

we held our breath almost as tight as the corpse
I hesitate to call it father, father was always so animated
a hidden smile underneath whatever mood he held

so I understood why mom had insisted
that the undertaker pin his lips back into a smile
but the reality of the request was not real

a sibling on each arm we looked into the box
we held our breath as tight as the corpse
and shook with a macabre tide of humor

The pinning of the lips into a smile is such a dark little detail.

 

[WickedEve]

"Let me squirt your hands with my water gun to help you clean them faster"

Love the way your mind works and thanks for starting a new one. I'll get to work on it.
And glad to have you on the forum, dear doc!

 

[DocktorWu]

Glad to be here

It was time to feed the muse something different. Your Bob to my Betty has always stayed with me. I 'm working on a "water gun" piece can't decide whether to go sexual or straight with that line.

 

[WickedEve]

It was time to feed the muse something different. Your Bob to my Betty has always stayed with me. I 'm working on a "water gun" piece can't decide whether to go sexual or straight with that line.

Oh, Betty! I remember something about Betty. And you remember my bob poems? Oh, my! lol Hey, I saved your poem about dead things. It's somewhere. I'm sure it was yours. You described things like chairs and whatever was around you as being dead things. Anyway, that poem really helped me to move into the direction I wanted to be with my writing.
I'm just so excited to have you back!

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Love the way your mind works and thanks for starting a new one. I'll get to work on it.
And glad to have you on the forum, dear doc!

Oooooooops is that what it was I thought he was being rude lol BTW Nice facial Eve

 

[unpredictablebijou]

I haven't come up with anything worthwhile for this thread yet but I am absolutely loving reading the work in here! Keep it up, folks.

bj

 

[DocktorWu]

Laurent's Watergun

kneeled and kneading a final time
oblivious to autumns last smile
or the wind that plays at my hem
or Laurent that plays at my hem

now angelically menacing
above me in the blue and brass
of a Paris gendarme

“tout de suite mama,
let me shoot you!
let me shoot you!
let me squirt your hands
with my water gun
to help you clean them faster”

hands up i turn
he gives me all he’s got
the rich soil is stubborn
Laurent is stubborn

the last bits won’t fade
some pretend a home in my lifeline
others lounge spiral on a finger tip
his small hands pump the trigger

ricocheted droplets reflect
refracted amber light
until I am born in a mist
that glows with the sun

the last bit won’t fade
i look into the shimmer
trapped on the water
trapped on my hand

i am
an oracle
on this last day of autumn
as we walk from the garden