I've learnt a few things day #30 PAD november chapbook challenge-lessons learned or not

My words sometimes flow in
perpendicular directions, so
hard to make a connection
At times my words offend someone,
with no means to explain,
I feel like burying
my head in the sand,
(that’ll be a long bus ride)

Instead I move along
Take what comes my way
I write because I love to
I feel the need to say,
what’s on my mind:
dark
depressing
ridiculous
Doesn’t mean I’m going over the edge

Lessons learnt are:
rewarding
perplexing
saddening …


Living in a world of high-technology
Placing ourselves out there to be seen
never knowing who’s behind,
a name that comes across the screen

my footsteps day #29 PAD november chapbook challenge-a step poem

I approach things,
in a structured fashion
One small increment at a time

Though I want to rush at life
In wide gaited strides
Reality keeps me
Reserved
Cautious
Poised

All the while,
I want to ramble
Whirl around
Fly off the mountain’s top
Dance in the streets in silly outfits
Sing on a bus going into town

It’s just not my style
So, I’ll continue on my path
Taking one step at a time

"mother" monday poetry potluck #12 - nature

Nature takes her course
Things are in place
She can be such a trickster
Cunning and deceptive
When you think everything is going well
Surprise …
People you love – die
Worse – forget that you exist
Friends turn their backs
Or stab you – never saw that coming
Your dog dies – your cat gets hit by a truck
Seems the joke is always on you
(I’m not trying to be negative)
It’s just the basic facts
Nature will always take her course
Without consulting first

a lonely feral horse poets united poetry pantry #19

(She dreams of companionship)
Sun shines on her mane
Butterflies surround her
A mustang neighs, wants
to rest – deeply
She must lie down


Alone – she cannot achieve this,
She must keep watch
A beautiful feral horse is left alone
While sleeping, standing up

A deadly visit day #28 PAD november chapbook challenge-what really happened

Headlights came up the drive,
she stepped out – slender
with long dark hair – Delilah
works in a club across the bridge.
Making a living with bumps and grinds.
(Existing on her esthetic looks)

Carrying a package,
especially made – for you.
Wrapped up nice and tight.
(deadly weapons are always concealed)

“Misfortune and sorrow why have you
come my way?”

Delilah returns to
bumps and grinds for stockbrokers,
whose wives wait at home.
Their babies – crying.
Watching the clock … the hours pass slowly.

“The sirens wail on this
foreboding night”

process notes:
This story needs some work.
But that is for the future, when I
feel I can approach it.

venom sunday scribblings #243 - antidote

I need an antidote for my pain,
that rises and causes me discomfort.
Aspirins don’t work … but I try.
The bittersweet is relevant.
You need an antidote for hatred,
that rises and causes you discomfort.
Kindness doesn’t work … but you try.
The sweetness is irrelevant.
Antidote and snake bites run together,
simultaneously … 

blame the moon day #27 november chapbook challenge-blame the ______

Blame the moon

Tides will rise to push
their way past the orifice
of ebb and flow.
With fury flooding saturated
land – soaked – waterleaf.
Sand-filled holes and rocks
will obstruct the onslaught.
The moon …
Has her own ideas.
Rising full – smiling.
While hiding other times,
looking at you from behind
dark clouds, all the while
she is plotting her next course.

Oh my beautiful companion
Guide me on the journey

gratitude writer's island #31- gratitude

Gratitude is thrown off sometimes like
Roasted peppers that burn the senses and
Ardent smells that enter pores from the fire to
The thicket covered with prickly thorns
Imbued with poisonous buds that roam from
Tension to relaxation, usurped we lose our
Understanding of what we care for, exaltation becomes
Descriptive of emotions, love and sympathy aren’t
Eluded, if we pay close attention to ourselves

homeless day #26 PAD november chapbook challenge

Shoes worn down to the soles of his feet,
his trousers threadbare
Everything he owns in a plastic bag,
from a supermarket down the street.
Nameless might as well be faceless.
But, I observe his movements,
does he run with no particular destination?
If we throw a coin in his direction,
will that make a difference?
He hops trains moving from town to town.
Sleeping on park benches,
pillows are old newspapers with the latest
Stockmarket news.

A scar runs along his shallow cheek
Marks the day that he began to run

Where will we go now big tent poetry #30 wordle

I cupped lush flowers that were passed
around the room.
My hand worn with callouses — time
I touch the roughness of the skin …
discoloured from now on.
Awake now —
Wander through clunks and clinks.
Like chains suspended from creaky rafters.
Putting us in jounces too small — contain.
Hung upside down in an ash-pit.
Forklifted to our destination.
Resurfaced only to realize,
the nib of the falcon has sent
you to the boiler to burn on open flames.

My scholars day #25 november PAD chapbook challenge

All my dogs wear sweaters.
One is an Oxford scholar,
from Scotland or so they say.
We have a Harvard tramp.
He ran with a wild bunch in his day.
The girls:
A Berkeley bitch
Don’t know why, she’s not liberal,
hates everyone (except me).
At last we come to
“The Tribeca tart” the cutest of the
bunch .. She says “New York rules!”
I guess she’s right.

Johnny Cash - Thanksgiving Prayer

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone!
pjs

Time has come today - Sheryl Crow.mp4

Love this!

spaces day #24 PAD november PAD chapbook challenge-space

Time we share in small spaces,
become vast areas of discontent.
Gazes are now glares like death,
sitting on my armchair as the quilted
patterns turn moldy with the years.

Distance is essential frozen in a cave.
Like the fossil of a trilobite squirming,
to be released in the future.

Changing the floral wallpaper into
bricks, piled one by one,
with mortar that sloshes from side
to side when touched by a razor.

Smoothness captures radiance
and sadness and flings it back
in your direction,
Space is wasted on anguish.

swimming with my sister we write poems #29 swimming

Currents push me hard against
barnacles on the post.
My sister said:
“Like in thick lava I swim
with nothing to grip”
Wide hips and plaintive smile.
A pool of ash and molten
rock — we’re stuck.
No way to navigate
this viscid cycle — with the
darkness in our hearts.
We try to be ambiguous and
righteous, but that twists
my brain.
And all the while I swim …
In a beautiful blue lake where
snakes won’t grab my ankles.

magic dreams day #23 november PAD chapbook challenge-poetic form/magic

Reverse, reverse, reverse, people.
Move in a wild que and put feathers in your hats.
So you can pick up coins off the cellar floor.
Swept up by magic brooms.
Long ago the script was thrown into the fire,
only ashes remain.
Illegible as if scrawled with ancient words.

Forward, forward, forward, children.
Run in an crooked file and place sequins on your cheeks.
Remove gems from rusted mounts,
set by fairies with silver wings.
Who cast spells while you sleep

Tiny, little shoes
Dance around the attic eves
Broken, frayed, twisted

what I think day #22 PAD november chapbook challenge-stand

If I were to tell you my views,
firmly gripped in my hands.
Would you take the time
to listen to my speech —
so carefully rehearsed in front of mirrors.
Or would you close your
mind and refuse to hear.
Should I sit on my hands,
and not do a damn thing.
unsaid — in time all words
fall on empty ground.
With no-one to pick them up
and dust them off.

"he travels alone" poets united poetry pantry #18

He walked miles …
never reaching his objective.
Waving arms and cheering smiles,
waiting on the other side.
No place to call home.
Waiting in the coldness.
Icicles forming on the trees.
The bitterness within him,
substituting warmth in his heart
Explosions all around …
As the moon begged him to
forgive with the stars guiding him
like fireworks bursting.
Over the mountains … he climbed

Asking for a seat on a bus day #21 november PAD chapbook challenge-permission

“How far to your destination?”
“Can I give you a hand when you
arrive?”
“dame un mano, por favor”
Arriving at the bus stop.
“Could you help me with
my bags?”
For hours we travel on the
rough back roads.
Sweat forming on our brows,
“Could you open up the windows?”
Please.
It is much too hot, hoping
for rain, to take away this stifling
heat.
You turned to me and said,
“Do you mind if I leave you
at the next stop?”
You never needed my permission
Adios
You decided to take your life
Goodbye

"knowing no more or less" day #20 PAD november chapbook challenge

Smoke curls round my eyes,
choking me —
Wrong is on the right
Right is on the left
Remaining in between lines

As cancer consumes
Blindness helps us see
Silence wants to talk
Desperation heals the sick
— hopefulness watches death

From a tower of inlaid ivory with
Crimson flowers blooming in the
darkness …

Placing meanings on the wrong side

your house writer's island #30 peerless

Eminent…
Façades built by you.
Nothing equal to what you,
say or do.
To be perfect like that in
all aspects, trying to fit
boulders through the eye
of a newt.
Never happens …
Attempting to catch
sand that flows in an hourglass.
With filters in fingers.
Pouring through small openings.
Beyond, above comparisons
you fascinate me,
Watching you twirl the world round
a room in perfect
unison never missing a step.
Peerless, my heart flows freely,
to the melodic tunes.

"doors open for us" thursday poets rally week #33

All things turn into windows
As doors open to separate
Sections on the highway
If closed shutters are rusted,
then we must use
Inner-strength to open them,
with care
Winds blow ...
Beckoning to be released
Through open
Doors, windows and shutters

hole in your soul day #19 november PAD chapbook challenge-a hole

A gaping hole which once contained
your soul, you try to fill the void with
whiskey, wine and sleazy partners

Squatting in a disheveled room
Grey, tattered curtains — once white
Cigarettes butts spilling from a chipped ashtray
Empty food containers rotting in the heat
Dirty linens splattered with stains
From your empty life

The stench is overpowering —
Sweaty bodies, unbathed, filthy
A life of degradation
A gaping hole of life

My queen #29 big tent poetry — a cascade poem

“Shine your divine light
So we may flourish”



From your mighty throne you rule
Watching all your lowly subjects
As they scramble for a lifeline
You may toss in their direction

Your kingdom is sacred and powerful
As you soil in your brocaded robes
The stench never reaching below
From your mighty throne you rule

A sceptre is held high, always piercing
And ready to strike those of a lesser
class, but never as filthy as you. Forever.
Watching all your lowly subjects

Pigs on oaken tables with apples
stuffed in their snouts. Royalty
at your side gorging on the feast, observing,
As they scramble for a lifeline

You lay your head at night on a bed
of satin — silk, dreaming privileged
cerebration, paupers waiting for
Something …
You may toss in their direction

"lost love" day #18 november PAD chapbook challenge-lost or found

Two lovers meet on clouds,
Iridescent moonbeams
Forever lost ...
Blinded by the twinkling,
of the stars
Fantasizing about love.

Two lovers part on barren soil,
a rugged terrain.
Saturated with heartaches.
As the sun is cast in shadows,
the coldness fills the air.
Forever lost ...

We are lost, only to be found

"wishing to fly" poets united thursday think tank #24 wings

From deep within the chasm,
of her eternal sleep
A nymph child awakens,
nightmares have interrupted
peacefulness

A satyr whispers in her ear
“your wings for immortality”
While his flute vibrates
within her

Carefully,
Unfolding her tiny extensions,
examining their details,
crying for release,
wishing she could fly,
with undeveloped wings

Words day #17 PAD november chapbook challenge—tell me why ...

Tell me why …
Is the depression I feel,
ever increasing with each,
move I make.

I pick up a pen, when I should
use a pencil.
Erasers are invaluable, at times
like these.

Each key I strike creates a paradox,
that only I can read.
Its meaning left misunderstood.
Its contents pushed to the boundary.

Words smear across pages and
the screen becomes mixed up,
as the words fall off, onto the floor.

I bend and flex,
attempting to pick them up,
So they make some sense.

No place to run we write poems #28 color me a wordle

Wisdom is forgotten,

while ancient blood wine,

is spilt at the hour of death.

I grab my handbag and run …

Trying to catch little monkeys,

along the way.

As trails of frivolous ants follow.

I am resident in a mockery,

you give within life.

The divine becoming night.

Knowing I have sprouted wings

 with nowhere to go …

 *(changed know to knowing)

I built it myself day #16 november PAD chapbook challenge-stacking or unstacking

I place the pebbles on top of each other
alternating their colours.
Creating a mosaic pattern that becomes
pleasing to my eyes.
In my mind they form Sahara deserts,
Never visited
In my dreams they form hidden treasures,
Never gotten
My moat is well-formed and protective.
To keep the warriors at bay, as they
try to force their way in.
May they drown in the stinging waters
below …

No Shoes written by Paranoid Larry, Arranged by the Roches

Friend day #15 november PAD chapbook challenge-"just when you thought it was safe”

You brought me in — your kindness
My friend
I trusted you, told you secrets
Buried inside for many years

Then I set my armour down,
Forgetting to keep it near
You struck me hard,
Sent me tumbling

I tried to get up ...
You slashed me with your sword
Slicing me into belittled pieces,
Leaving me to bleed to death

she survives monday poetry potluck-moods,feelings,emotions

She walked in fields of broken glass
Shards grinding into old wounds
With scarves of fluorescent colours,
winding round her delicate neck

She swam in seas of ash and fire,
flames singeing her sunburst hair
With jewels radiant, twisting
round fine, boned extremities

She climbed treacherous mountains,
filled with man-eating creatures
Ripping her from limb to limb
Her spirit spiraled back for the
descent with scarves and jewels
Intact …

bilingual day#14 november PAD chapbook challenge/sunday scribblings #241-bright idea

To step over the slightest line,
now familiar
Ideas seem vague
Less than brilliant
Every once in a while a light,
in the dimness
Mundane becoming exhilarating
One language crosses over to another
pronunciation,
enunciation,
comprehension
Formed and cohesive

Why? day #13 PAD november chapbook challenge-question

Why is life so unfair?

Poor struggle to survive
Scraping the ground for morsels
To feed their hungry babies

Some say “life is what we make of it”
If never given the alternative,
perplexing questions,
no answers

Can the arrogant feed the homeless man,
sitting on the corner
He’s humbled beyond what we see or feel
Looking for dinner in a dumpster, fetid with disease
As cockroaches crawl across him while he sleeps,
rats his mascots in the alley way

While we take another sip of wine,
and wonder what shoes to wear

U-MV021 - Sam Phillips - I Need Love

Like a scorpion,
poisoning me, paralyzing me,
With every sneaky movement
Oh, clever you
I didn’t see it coming
So tell me now, what is it
that you don’t understand
about people.

life's answers writer's island #29 quandary

A state of difficulty, perplexity,
uncertainty, hesitation or puzzlement
Never able to decide

A predicament; dilemma,
a difficult decision or choice
If you don’t make the right move
Will you fall? Into the deep pit,
never being able to climb out

The decision is already made
It was settled long ago, fate
gives us the cards played out
by the stars in the sky, as a
comet sweeps them off course
And changes things forever …

Tom Russell--Crosses of San Carlos

Tom Russell talks about the Mexican jaguar and their extinction,
beautiful song

what happened? day #12 november PAD chapbook challenge-forget what they say

I’ve already forgotten
everything told to me
when I was young

Seeing the world as a different place
Hatred, cheating, lying
How is it in the heart
that deception seems to rule?

Like stones worn by corroding
acid with grooves wide enough
to swallow you and burn the skin
We need to smooth the surface
clean with something more beneficial:

Like caring and compassion

"Dragons Fly" big tent poetry #28 NYT best sellers list

Hiding in unlit alleys, behind seedy bars
Red Stilettos, fishnet hose
A bowie tucked between her breasts
Concealed … she waits

In a subway tunnel: as the clock strikes
midnight, she is watching you
Stalking and plotting
As her stare draws you in,
Is your fear palpable as the sweat,
on your brow

Her hostage now,
clutched in her webbed arms
Carrying you to the highest ledge of a building
Placing a slender foot over the edge
She tells you she can fly …
The girl with the dragon tattoo

Afraid of the dark day #11 november PAD chapbook challenge-no one wants___

No one wants to be filled with fear
Needlessly worrying,
what happens next,
Clinging to something that has no substance
Waiting, trying to see …
Hyperventilating you can’t breathe or think
Darkness surrounds you …

Not really love day #10 november PAD chapbook challenge-love or anti-love

Across the room they seem to beguile
With cheap plastic eyes and their fake smile
Let’s raise a glass to wish you good cheer
Pinkies extend … so fancy my dear
They seem to beguile

We move to dances, an elegant file
Rubbing our cheeks with those we deem vile
To give my heart to someone I fear
Who seems to beguile

Wicked dresses on crystalline tile
Looking to trap my soul for awhile
There is no escape as they draw near
In the corner of my eye … a tear
Wanting to run far away for miles
They seem to beguile


process notes:
I am not very good with sonnets.
But I wrote this the other day and
thought I might submit it for this
prompt. It certainly needs some work.

starting over we write poems #27 healing

On the mending side of time …
All passes through glances
of sincerity - smooth voices
are captured with tone

Balanced:
Felt by some of those
looking for solace,
Healing areas once open,
maturating with rage

A tender hand comes across
to touch the injured soul
Kindness to one wronged
Healing has begun

while we catch our breath day #9 november PAD chapbook challenge-slow down

Catch your breath while leaning on the post
Having run for miles with nowhere to go
Circles never seem to end

As in a nightmare where a tiger chases
you down the city sidewalk
Never quite catching up — out of breath
Slow down … with no place to be …

In such a hurry … you race along the widest,
lane in life with no apparent destination
In time the bones will grow weary looking,
for some rest … take a deep breath

I simply can't agree day #8 november PAD chapbook challenge-agree

Like the sandpaper
of your bleeding tongue
You expect me to agree

Words rehearsed to hurt,
chafed raw as joy escapes your ritual
You want them to agree

Laid upon me …
Envy, anger, sarcasm
Wretched friction that abides in
one with a loathful heart

Agree: If I succumb to the inflictions
you have so carefully placed on others
I simply can’t agree

existence day #7 november PAD chapbook challenge

Lying side by side
Along a slightest filament
Reason …
Pros …
In life it’s essential,
examine what holds true
for you, it is like the patterns
Created:

Wars, injustice, people
hunger for more power

If peace would prevail
What would it look like?
Would we recognize it?

It has been written about
before and for many years
But do we understand
Perhaps not ….

Looking for forgiveness day #6 November PAD chapbook challenge-looking for

Looking for "forgiveness"

Is what he said to you,
As if the bruises given,
didn’t go below epidermal surfaces.

Where they nestled themselves,
like leeches looking for,
more blood and pain.

Burrowed in the years,
Contusions and scars,
visible on the surface

So broken underneath …
Forgiveness is looking,
for a warm place to hide

EST Day #5 November PAD chapbook challenge-metamorphosis

To shed the outer layer,
of devolving turbulence.
A mindful stance of the rotating
cogs in a filtered existence.
Wheels turn …
moving without lubrication
Being placed on a table.
Electrodes placed at tender temples,
sending fire throughout the body.
Altered for existence.

Process notes:
This prompt made think about ES therapy.
My mom worked as an RN supervisor.
In a psychiatric hospital for several years,
in a NY state institution. At that time
this form of therapy was legal. I am
quite mortified that it was ever legal.

"In a dream" big tent poetry #27 borrow a line from a fellow poet

I have experienced the
taste of sun silver rain,
with droplets as big as the stars.

In apocalyptic dreams,
mounds of goldenrod studded with ironweed,
climbed the walls looking for release.

I roamed the land for berries,
that were not poisoned.
Clawing and digging in dry earth,
my nails caked with the grime of passing years.

A rain of fire and ice has begun,
It wasn’t a sight anyone expected to see.


Process notes:
“taste of sun silver rain” Sherri
“mounds of goldenrod studded with ironweed” Barb
“It wasn’t a sight anyone expected to see” Nan

It is magic poets united #22 magic

It’s in the breeze that blows
through trees
and settles on the limbs
In the sky-birds in flight
Star filled nights-waiting for a wish
It is the laughter of the soul
Longing to be free

Magic of the universe …

A burial Day #4 November PAD chapbook challenge-Containment

I laid out the dress
While you picked out the jewels
On satin you place your head
A beauty in life-death
So cold to touch, now
Where has your spirit gone?
Is it roaming over open fields,
where flowers grow wild
In the fiery sun
Or soaring through the dark clouds,
looking for a place to rest
When I look up at the stars,
are you watching me?
As we put you in a final,
resting place beneath the tierra

“May you rest in peace”

The City November PAD chapbook challenge #3 location

Asphalt roads, steam rising from,
their steel covered eyes.
Grated sidewalks, sounds coming from within.
Exhaust fumes suffocating in summer,
inviting in the winter snow
Plated glass: reflections of ourselves
Concrete walls surround me,
I feel life from within them, alive
Birds fly high over head
I am once again amongst chatter,
laughter, cries and sorrow
That fill the city streets.

soul collector we write poems #26 collection

Little jars on a shelf,
high and out of reach
You place souls inside
Crystal walls
Sealed tightly, so they can’t escape

A beautiful array of colours
Purple, blue and gold
Hand carved with intricate designs
A monument created with everyone,
you've ever known

Every day you dust them off
And put them back so carefully
Avoiding that they touch each other
High and out of reach
Little jars on a shelf

Life day #2 November chapbook challenge (ready to start / never ready

To lose my mind
In this whirlwind,
of years

It seems life has laid,
its velvet cape on me
Smooth and seamless
Dark and concealing

All regrets flow in streams
Narrow and unrelenting
Movement of time,
pushing it forward

Until they begin to breach,
at the dam
I am never ready

Jethro Tull: Skating Away On The Thin Ice ... (02/10/1977)

Doors and Books Day #1 November PAD chapbook challenge (closing doors and turning pages)

Page upon page I have turned,
evolving into what I am now
Though some of the paper
has yellowed becoming
brittle with time

Closing thresholds on faces
that have spurned me
Laughter that I hear on days,
is your own self denial
While you try to tamper with my
hardback cover

Are you attempting to dismantle
me bit by bit …
When it is you who should consider
unfolding the shroud that you have
lamented so carefully shut