no designer clothes who am I? POW # 9

In this land Infallible and uncouth

Shirts no-shirts determine

Who’s the enemy take pride in infiltrating

Aisles of people who serve their god

We decide who to kill more bombings

Causalities rise under me no one wins

But I am the victor fix me with an IED

Go to Paris I hate Gucci jack-in-the-box suits me best

I can take my pistol and blow you away and no one

Would suspect me I am the victor I have lost

Me sunday scribblings #221 life swap

Fasten me with a safety pin

to the bed while I sleep

so that I may not drift too far

When I walk tie a rope round

my waist so that I don’t get lost

Search for me when I am missing

Remember me when I am gone

Look up in the sky and read the stars

As they spell out my name

In the ward writers island #9 imagine

I was walking down the street chewing bubble gum

That day I was wearing a red shirt
I really love how that shirt looks with my blonde hair

Sometimes I’m very vain but if I don’t praise myself who will

I often visit the geriatrics in the nursing home hoping I can find my mom

Oh how I loved her, we used to sit and eat manna together talking about the antichrist

How her words resonate in my brain as I see her image

She loved to play board games and she was always quick with a joke

I sometimes wondered was she my natural mother because she was so lovely and healthy

I remember the day she told me about the Brownshirts drinking grape juice

I said to her “Do they smoke opium, too?”
If they drink grape juice they must smoke opium

I would like to go back in a time machine when people were sincere

Just like my mom I am so sorry that she is gone

I have made my fortune in timetables since she left me

I have many interests some untried and others unfounded

I will remain the underdog until the tidal wave comes to take me away

”arctic never” big tent poetry #8

“I want to write about crack babies, but I don’t know how.”

incubators crying

from every corridor

to hold and feed

shaking and screaming

no comfort to be found

hearts beat an extra rhythm

too fast to contain

eyes unfocused

eyes untamed

West Side Story 1961 - "I feel pretty"

I dedicate this to you, Mr. General

Good going Obama!

My life we write poems wordle #7

A drought has come

I won’t drown

I obsess

I am happy

nervous

mad

Sorrow circles in a bad carbon sea

Glacial winds blow in on your birthday

Gerry Rafferty - Baker Street (HQ Original Video)

this is pop but it could be Summer for me
great memories!
Pamela

not nearly carry on tuesday #58

“Well, nobody's perfect,"

Isn’t that what you told her

As you walked down the lane

Fist in hand

So profound this feeling

I am nobody you told her

My heart is under three locks

Without a key

What did you expect?

I have no room for you

father monday poetry train #85

direct result of breathing

circumstances of death

years of breathing

took his life

father's story

a sympathetic figure

emotional furious spinning

father's death.

so disturbing

he suffered

I am born Sunday Scribblings Birth #220

As I fly through the open field

My feathers disintegrate

Turning to ash

I perch myself on a wire

Trying to regain my composure

I look out at the apocalyptic land

How did it come to this?

I attempt to take off

Only to find I can no longer fly

I have grown limbs . . .

So I must walk

Billy Idol - White Wedding Official videoclip

June POW twilight in summer #8

reflections gleam
I lie there disgusted
this isn't your dream
my saber unrusted

her summer gown lay there
in blood encrusted
in fetid air
a way to preclude

she was not aware
her life had been rude
yet in her dream
of her festering brood

wakened only by scream
as she hung from her beam

atmospheric writer's island #8 change

You sit there wrapped up in furs

While I look at the sun

And wait for the showers

That cool the air

Change makes this happen

It spins round this world

Without end

And we say when will it end

As I sit here on the shore

Where air stings my eyes into yours

The heart knows no other way

imagine this big tent poetry #7 wordle

Don’t resent me I praise you

left hungry in a dangerous

dark part of the city

diseased chest cavities

cough releasing filth

Don’t resent me I praise you

pieces of falling stars

from a milky sky

comfort is an alley

memory is dull

you keep saying

Don’t resent me because I praise you

broken laces a personal poem

I have gone thru eyelets

I have met assholes

I feel

my life is like tying my fancy shoes

Laces broken and frayed

abuse we write poems #6 contempt

Dan Rako wanted us to write about something or someone we may hold in contempt.
For me people that abuse other people or any living creature are the ones I hold contempt for in my heart.
I do at some level have pity on them but I do not condone
their behavior . . .

beat, shoot, stab

abuse

animals

Bundy

Berkowitz

Dahmer

started

with animals

at home

Uno Fortunato I am Casanova POW #7 language sprinkle series--Italian

Fellini's 'Casanova'

(Italian (Petrarchan) sonnet)

In a white uniform and blue vested

Shouldered knots of silver and gold

Riflettere in your boudoir does unfold

Adjacent to a bedroom you requested

Uncorrupted heart of mine attested

Coltivare pleasures to be foretold

Sentendo of my charm-behold

As I stare at my beauty divested

I am pleased as I look upon

Your delightful female form

Conquistare I do dare desire

Mutual consent you urge on

Amante I am loved. Conform

This our time together acquire


Italian translations:

uno fortunato - fortunate one
riflettere - reflecting
coltivare - cultivating
sentendo - to hear, sense, taste or feel
conquistare - conquer
amante - lover

"alone" carry on tuesday #57

This week our prompt is the title and opening line of a William Butler Yeats’s poem

"When you are old and grey and full of sleep”

will I leave you to die in an armchair

decayed

without love

flesh falling from your bones

will I let your bones crumble

and blow away

trying not to catch them

stand and watch without

Sorrow

Pity

Shame

Would I do that to you?

open spaces monday poetry train #84

Stretch me down a long narrow road

Of desire, passion and belief

Let me drown in the flood

Reach up and touch what you

feel with all your strength

Throw away old desires

Recoil inside a shell with limits

Feel the restrictions in a

pain of no release as it

pushes against the sides

Stretch me down a long narrow road

Mother of mine (a submission for black flood online publishing)

here to bring pleasure

to sustain and nourish

embodiment of life

vessel of fortune

rise and dip with every cycle

a moon guides me on my voyage

you have littered my dwelling

stolen my treasures

shattered my dignity

still you want more blood

cast me aside

with no thoughts of my feelings

'a different kind of hero' sunday scribblings #219 superhero(ine)

when they scrambled

looking for cover

equals were never round

to save them from mad dog

credible though with flippers

only serving pop-tarts and iced tea

a buckshot rang out in the distance

yuppies running to the sound

screaming 'truly scrumptious'


process notes:
my husband gave me a list of words to use
here is the list:

scrambled
pop-tarts
equals
scrumptious
mad dog
credible
flippers
iced tea
yuppies
buckshot

heart of a prisoner osi #120 oubliette

 

dark lanes lead to me

unlit halls hark back

musty stone walls

line my heart

torture me

fortifications preserved

in a forgotten place

oubliette free me

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

Life writer's island #7 the gift

If something is given

Then something must be taken

Gesture of abhorrence is

The abuse that forms from within



Remember the day of feeling

Given to extent of capability

Reach the corridor of sensitivity

If something is given



Look deep within your shoes

Feel inside your gloves

Check your pockets carefully

Then something must be taken



A blind man on the street

Looks for sight from a tin cup

Cardboard boxes line the alley

Gesture of abhorrence is



Broken bones and bruised limbs

Crippled and invalid in your mind

Recalling that life is for living

The abuse that forms from within

it was never about you big tent poetry #6 anger

My uncontrollable urge to smack you

It has been replaced with pity

Now I understand what it is you do

May you move to Guatemala City



It has been replaced with pity

I remember your snarling face

May you move to Guatemala City

You are an inhuman disgrace



Remembering your snarling face

Sometimes I can’t sleep at night

Are you an inhuman disgrace

I break out in a sweat from the fright



Sometimes I don’t sleep at night

What was it you said to me

I am soaked in sweat from the fright

Your words were never easy to flee



What was that you said to me

Oh as always, something rude

Your words are never easy to flee

I find you to be very crude



Oh it's always, something rude

But when I wake up missing

I know you to be very crude

It is never you I am kissing

"Eyes" carry on Tuesday #56

This week our prompt is the opening words from Salman Rushdie’s book The Enchantress of Florence

"In the day’s last light......"

pic by findstuff22

The sun in my eyes

Irises blinded

Pupils contract

Lashes veil haze from within

Orbs see strange shapes

Take form

Expansion

The light closes

flight otherwise #83 monday poetry train-revisited

one light to the next

on the chandelier

visit the moon before you’re through

nothing lasts

fall into hell with the fire

wings that hiss when rubbed together

loath in the ailment

filled with toxin

the accolade of demise

Swimming on linoleum POW prompt #6 a cento

We had goldfish and they circled around and around

and when my father got home he threw them to the cat

Whereon the thought might think sometime it saw

The carcase of a beauty spent and done

To give life you must take life,

and as our grief falls flat and hollow


Swifter than the moon's sphere;

And I serve the Fairy Queen

then somebody behind you laughs.

it's a cork laugh filled with sand and

broken glass.

Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me

But hope of orphans, and unfather'd fruit;


I sit in the room

with them

and they taunt me

with their agony;

TELL me where is Fancy bred,

Or in the heart or in the head?

How begot, how nourished?

reply, reply.

 
Process notes:
William Shakespeare

A lover's complaint
A fairy song
Love
How like a winter hath my absence been

Charles Bukowski

2 flies
Another day
A smile to remember
As the sparrow

laughter comes from ... we write poems #5 Erasures (found poetry) taken from Pointed Roofs by Dorothy Miller Richardson

high, bright mirrors sweep many faces

scattered and collected misery

nervous thought of dreadful experiences

people running melody

swollen loud, louder movements

elbowed nothing

loud minims till the end

dizzily touch

angry red-hot mass of fire

and the bottle of green Chartreuse

warming people with trembling limbs and burning eyes

fumbled and slurred soundlessly until afresh

too miserable to be nervous

astonished and thrilled

the wall behind . . .

a heart without wings osi #119 Icarus

It melted away

As I fall without a parachute

The heat is undeniable

The soar is unmistakable

I ascend and plummet all at once

the gods know writers island #6 unforgettable

sitting at a café

cappuccino

cool breeze

coming from the ocean

a voice that is undeniable

music in every syllable

Narcissus drawn from the center

Aphrodite and pulled in dissimilar directions

Pluto surrounds us

beams of light around your face

Thanatos death of a loved one

once again it happens ... big tent poetry # 5

It rose and I to reach

the dead love I once longed for

As I snuck behind the psychedelic curtains

swinging in the breeze

To enter into a strange and different time

and space

The forbidden chamber of temptation

In the years to come I will be accused of many

indiscretions

but as it rises I am lured once again

poets for living waters

I submitted this as part of our disaster in the Gulf Coast which going to affect all of us.

copper mines stripped so long ago

volcanoes erupt so long ago

ice caps melting, polar bears and seals need to live

emissions spewing gases so long ago

we have not been aware at all

death toll rises not so long ago

we think of one more visit to the beach

a refreshing dip in the ocean in our not so long ago

A tale poetic asides #091 use the words coldhopper-flash-satellite

The clodhopper stood on the river’s edge

a flash across the water

trout looking for a hiding place

thinking of time

before satellite and television

time to sail away

like the fish

springtime we write poems #4 doors

Luekemia destripar cancer

occurs

Strap on your best face

and put forth

some integrity

Find a shadow to veil in

Put on a robe and let go

an excruciating pain exists inside

So walk through the door

of hysteria and joy

bombing the factory POW prompt #5

' The Dresden clock continued ticking on the mantepiece

And the footman sat upon the dining-table

Holding the second housemaid on his knees--

Who had always been so careful while her mistress lived '



From ' Aunt Helen' by T.S. Eliot

The bombs fell as they continued to embrace

Their secret tryst was so delightful

What would come of this once the bombing ceased

Looking for loved ones lost or dead

Clocks keep ticking while 18th century ladies and gentlemen

Continue their motionless dance

Porcelain-dipped lace and cherubs surround them

In this winter's cold as the fire shines bright

Forever the embrace lingers . . .