writing live

[butters]

#8


wind's stripped the skin off the greenhouse
plants don't care–it's 75 out there and tropical
here comes the rain

blocky clouds unable to hold their load
welcome in the new year with tantrums
backlit by flashing sky-expletives

attenuated, near dead old peach tree
season-trimmed in palest lichen
looks bone white in stray, sallow rays

ham and dressing, ochra & green beans
black-eyed peas look forward, optimists to the end
even if they'll never taste that cherry pie

 

[Winter_Fare]

#2

It's too much work to turn and watch you go
When up ahead the sunrise lights the sky
If I hold on to those we used to know
They fall away like water from my eye
In choosing you, the better part of us
They pity me, I'm fucked if I know why
As though my heart were thrown under the bus
Instead of feeling lighter without lies
So light that I could touch the golden clouds
And weep my tears like softly falling rain
And call my thunder, shout my joy out loud
And never see your fucking face again

But for our children, I will hold my peace
And write a bitter sonnet for release

 

[butters]

#9

the grey and glooming day has lost its song
the birds–both red and blue–are hid from sight
though sun's unseen its light will not last long
it slowly bleeds away into the night

this no-man's land between two sets of storms
has wildlife bunkered down and even grass
though green is still as if caught in mid-yawn
and I'm compelled to stay stuck on my arse

the christmas lights are stripped and packed away
just when the darkest days on doorsteps land
and we could use some new year cheer come stay
so dawdle days away–sea-dreams and sand

yet nature will enlighten jaded senses
as honeysuckle shares its wintry presence

 

[Winter_Fare]

#3

Horses don't need shoes you know
And flowers don't need food to grow
But I need something more than this
Self destructive silent kiss
I see the mirror mirror black
And want the hour and minutes back
I wasted
I tasted something in the back
Of my remembering an attack
Of bitter words I came to miss
Tell me that there's more than this
An answer for my wandering soul
The flowers don't want me to know

 

[Winter_Fare]

#4

Four corners on the crib
On the bedroom floor
Four corners on the door
For counting up
Four steps up the garden path
Four years pass
Pushing up the stakes
Four brave words
I can't do this
Anymore

 

[cascadiabound]

20 1/3/22

Pandemic purgatory
An apt description
Of this never-ending cycle
Infections, hospitalizations
Tests, vaccines, masks, quarantines
A constant remaking of our reality
Reassessing risks
And wondering
Is it safe to get groceries today?
The weight of this unceasing pandemic
Even disturbs my sleep
Awaking with a start
The memory of a positive test
Imprinted on my anxious brain

Pandemic purgatory
Every call is about covid now
There is nothing untouched by it
My decades of nursing work
Is inadequate to address
The worry
The questions
The unknowns
My heart aching
As I lament just how little
I have to offer in terms of real help
Leaning hard on empathy
And a shared sense of helplessness
I pray again and again
For good outcomes

Pandemic purgatory
thirty days of exile
our aged and infirm friends
endure isolation and loneliness
such dire precautions
for an invisible foe
no shared meals
no morale boosting activities
moon- suited caregivers
shuffle in and out
struggling to connect
smiling eyes peek out
above muffling masks
the struggle is real
as one by one
and now in droves
my coworkers leave medicine
forever

 

[Winter_Fare]

#5

Hold the door
Step aside
Lend a hand
What you see
In my eye
Pass me ny
If you don't
Then who knows
Maybe ire
Or ennui
Fill your heart
In a rush
To move on
Disconnect
Reach the end
Of the road
I don't mind
All the same
It's the old
Twist or stick
Twenty one

 

[Angeline]

6

Six swirls per nostril. I swiped
once extra for a lucky thirteen
because I'm mired in gallows humor
as a shield against all the angst
and depression of this unending night-
mare, entering year three

Don't ask me how often I've seen
my family, Zooming is fine but I need
to hold my dear girls, brush back
their hair, caress their sweet faces.

My life has become microscopic,
tubes and trays, wheels, another
lockdown on the way. I dive
into books for respite, historical fiction
where even great tragedies
have predictable outcomes and where I am
through them all a ghostly omniscient
observer.

The nurse practitioner puts my swab
in a tube. She says it's spreading
like wildfire. I shush my worries, tell
my bleak expectations to vamoose
for now and pick up my book.

 

[butters]

#10

the sum is greater than its components

freezer's overflowing
time to make some room
so dig out those talentless squash
frozen two years back–
zukes, crooknecks, pattypan, immature dragons–
mixed bags of onion,'maters, peppers
nibs of corn
more squash

raid the fridge
those ugly carrots
wilting celery, dregs of cream
& left-over gravy
can of condensed chicken soup
more onion
toss in some dill weed, celery seed, salt, lemon pepper
those last-in-the-jar broken bay leaves
a pack of maricopa beans for body

mingle well
turn up the heat till they're steaming hot
let them sweat out their grievances
issues reduce, concentrate, promote focus

now i could worry about outcomes
like...will the cream split?
will the clash of natures ruin the results?
will the beans cling to their independence,
to their refusal to soften?
but i trust in experience
stir the pot now and then to prevent sticking
taste how things are coming along

then, at the optimum moment
remove from heat
allow to cool a little
run through the blender
so everything works together
as one

so many +'s
= 1

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

# 1 1/4/22

Unexpected

An invitation
to a quiet dinner
at a restaurant
of his choice.

It is out of the way,
off the tourist beaten track,
quietly discrete where
intimate couples often meet.

He did not suggest
it should lead to anything
more than good food
and pleasant conversation
but, as I watch him sip wine,
break the bread roll and
take the first buttery bite,
I find myself hoping.

 

[HarryHill]

..
The hickory tree points a shadowy finger,
across green lawn, soggy with melt,
pokes the sagging snowman,
bent over under the suns glare.
...

 

[champagne1982]

5/30 January 4, 2022

Do You Want To?

Let me lick my reply
to the question
that twisted my insides
with a grip designed

to squeeze every drop
of honeyed fluid
from my most secret places
and drown you in my scent.

I want to drag my tongue
over the swollen response
you show me when my answer
shimmers on my thighs.

Those muscles challenged
to tighten and squeeze
so that your release
does not come before mine.

That flesh taut and deep pink
as blood engorges the hollow
cells and forces the folds
and wrinkles to stretch;

plunges through my warm recesses
probes damp creases to fill
and touch the most intimate
and hidden end to me.

 

[Piscator]

sans nombre: 1

Stochastic

Been with good people in bad times
and with bad people in good times
and much preferred the latter.

Voted left and voted right
It really didn’t matter.

Those pain management pills
lead only to more pain
been there, done that
won’t go there again.

Roll the dice
ride the wave
be brave
soul save?

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

# 2 1/5/22

An Inconvenient Truth

It was supposed to be a special day
The Women’s Institute was holding sway.
It fell to Gwen to have them all to tea
but little did she know what was to be.

The sandwiches and cakes were set about,
in came the ladies, tall, short, thin and stout.
I had no hand at all in what took place
but got a buzz when I saw her shocked face.

The ladies gathered there for tea were hushed,
poor Gwendolyn sat there and beetroot-blushed.
Her son, Nathanial, sometimes known as Nate,
had found me in her drawer and couldn’t wait.

He hurried down to show his newfound toy,
remember he was just a little boy.
He only wanted them to share the fun
and did not realize what he had done.

He turned me on, I hummed like a bee,
the imp then waved me round his head with glee.
His mother swept him up and cried “My sweet!
Now my humiliation is complete.”

But then the vicar’s wife Mrs. Redruth
Said “We’ve all got one, dearie, that’s the truth.
If any of you ladies dare deny
then I am here to tell you that you lie.”

This inconvenient truth made faces red
and Nate was hustled quickly off to bed.
And what of me, was I to blame for this?
Gwen knew I’d give her many nights of bliss.

Now I am hidden in a safer place
and Gwendolyn is over her disgrace.​

 

[Winter_Fare]

#6

I'm still in love with the way you held your spoon
First born
You show me you neat little stories
There I go again
You're standing tall as I am
Bitter sweet
My heart swells for all your achievements
And breaks for the baby you were
I wish I could hold you both

Still Life

 

[champagne1982]

Influenza Blues

Head achey nausea seems not so much covid but sweaty and restless flu.

 

[4degrees]

I told him, i whispered at him
Half awake in no pajamas
Check out the snew
'What's snew' croaked out
From his sleepy mouth
My lips to his ear, I say,
Not much, what's new with you baby

A lazy tussle begins and
Ends in the warm sheets
Fabric and flesh all warm together
The bright white breaking through
The mini blinds

I stay blind, for a time
My inner eye seeing these
Sweet daydreams that sometimes
Materialize like ghosts
The particles of energy
Glowing like uranium glass
Finding a way through
This Maze
Takes my whole life
And I thank you still and forever

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

# 3 6/1/22

Only You

Your quirky verse tickled my fancy
Just as it tangled my tongue.
Efforts you made, certainly chancy,
Always, I feel, quite unsung.

Do you still take long bike rides alone,
Carefully plotted and planned,
Visiting places and parts unknown
Cities, forests and farmland.

It’s a thrill when I see you appear
But then you’re gone in a flash.
Why you don’t stay is unclear
Have you decided it’s all balderdash?

 

[Winter_Fare]

#7

You might not believe it
But I'm still going to tell you
That I think no prayer is wasted

The unanswered ones
The uncanny ones
The desperate ones
And the joyful

That the act of submission
Has meaning in itself

 

[Angeline]

7

Let me float upon the sea
dreaming of what comes back to me
The child-woman is no more
She waited on a distant shore
Said her prayers, tossed yarrow sticks

And doted on the Moon's pale eyes
Forgot what falls twixt truth and lies
Forgot that Moon and sea play tricks
And gentle waves are not a home
But floating older and alone

thought here at last I'm free.

 

[Winter_Fare]

#8

Floating up to my neck
In over my head
Til the edges of me
Become ill defined

And the whole of my mind
Is conjoined to the sea
I'm awake and I'm dead
An infinite speck

Mortality wrecked
And it's just like you said
Ride the wave and be free
Then erase and rewind

 

[Lyricalli]

9

Savoring plump, green olives
briny as tears
and I suddenly slip into reveries
about groves and sunnd afternoons
the warmth of your voice
salt on your lips

It seems impossible
that one day I may not long
at least a little
for those moments
when we belonged only to one another
somwhere between right and wrong
the unique freedom found in that bond
solid as the ground under my feet
yet delicate
disappearing into the air
a sigh after a kiss

I struggle sometimes to put words
on this figurative paper
and wonder if I'm even a writer
if you're not reading them
as nonsensical as that is
it plays on repeat in my head
with the songs, the ones that end up in heavy rotation
when I need something
to break the silence
in the hollow

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

# 4 1/7/22

Sisters and Strangers

As a child
I often wondered
how it must have felt when
I came along in the midst
of singular turmoil,
as if she’d remember.

Perhaps, quite unconsciously,
she resented this usurper,
the dilution of her mother’s
total absorption,
a bald, squalling doll-thing.

Growing up to love-hate,
a complicated rivalry where she
always won, leaving me seething
and deflated. Now,
a million miles divide us
and we correspond coolly.

 

[champagne1982]

#7 January 7. 2022

I don't know why I started this,
my guts a re churning still
I hope my brain produces better\
than my digestion.

When you start to type, howerver
nonsensical it seems something
anything happens

A chronicle of a lucid dream
while lying saking with fever
and ague, only pausing
to drag your aches from a sour
bed full of fever sweat
and self. I'm so glad it's mostly done

 

[butters]

#11

thermometer fell last night
around 10 degrees F with freezing rain
not heavy
just enough to coat and lace
each upper branch and serried twig

after yesterday's solid greys, winter's sun
skies daubed in uncompromised blue
grass and shrub rendered
in a child's unblended paintbox-hues
snow's all gone

looking for the yellow cats
out back to the south
still-sleepy eyes fly open wide
unexpected joy bursting my chest
stealing breath:
there, transformed, the hill–
foot to crest ablaze with crystal lights–
a frozen tsunami of pinpoint white-fire
sets my whole being alight

yellow cat nudges my leg
purrs to remind me breakfast