Requiem for a Rainy Day
The rain cascades down the window
flooding me with want
of you
of a quilt
of the feeling of safety and peace so easily found in the crook of your arm
Fat Bottom Girl Said What
When my ass talks, people listen.
Archive for the category “Poetry & Prose”
Morning Coffee
And all I want right now is to be sitting
Here
In this chair
With you across from me
Watching the sun rise
Talking about everything and nothing
As the cool breeze wafts the scent of the neighbor’s honeysuckle past us
Knowing that love is in the little things
Can’t You Smell That Smell?
And the shortest distance between two points
is as the crow flies
so I wait for wings to form
make me a bird and let me fly
far, far away
but no amount of pleading with a non-existent god or goddess
can make it happen
so I’m leaving on a jet plane
to get a rocky mountain high, the rocky mountain way
I couldn’t get much higher
if I was huffing the scent of your excellence
while standing 40 feet in the air with you
The Breath of Life
“And can you handle that which you’ve awakened in me? All the passion, the inspiration, the love?” she asked him. “All those things I feared dead, you have breathed life into.”
A Letter to my Grandma
Tric over at My Thoughts on a Page, recently asked for letter submissions. The letter could be written to anyone and about anything. I took the opportunity to write a letter to my grandmother. I miss her and think of her often on days like today, when the weather begins to turn warm and my thoughts drift to planting flowers and I hear the birds singing.
Sometimes writing a letter to loved ones who are gone gives us a chance to tell them things we never did while they were still of this earth., and can be quite therapeutic. Who would you write to if you had the chance?
Hazardous Waste
Photo Credit: nutracenter.com
like a broken thermometer
so many tiny balls of poison(my insecurities)
scattering
rolling
hither and yon
hurry
gather them before anyone sees
the malignancy
dividing
growing
it seems impossible to contain them
just when I think I’ve got them all gathered
the pieces shatter
into more pieces
the number seems. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . infinite. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
hurry
run and fetch the eyedropper
to suck up the toxic little balls
before they infiltrate
what’s good
sprinkle the sulfur and contain
every minute trace of the
contamination
seal them all up in a bag
dispose of them
properly
like the hazardous waste
that they are
distance
and the shortest distance
between our two points
is my mind
you meet me there
with open arms and a smile
so real at times
I feel your lips brushing my cheek
or feel your hand in mine
or hear your heart beating as I curl against you and lay my head on your chest
Photo Credit: cuddlecomfort.com
The Story of My Body
Photo Credit: absolutearts.com
My body tells a story.
Every scar, every wrinkle, every stretch mark, every tattoo, every gray hair,
Reminds me of who I am and where I have come from.
It tells me that once I was a daredevil on roller skates and a bike,
That I have laughed millions of times, and that my face has been salted by tears.
It shows the marks of a mother’s love;
one whom I have had the pleasure of loving intensely and close-up,
and another from far away who will never understand the limits of my love.
See my love for nature, and my birthplace, and one of the most beautiful flowers I know because of its wildness and simplicity?
And my longing for water because it soothes the turbulence in me?
See my desire for flight from all that binds my soul? My longing to cast off others’ ideas about me and my quest to be beautiful in my own right and to love freely?
My need to feel balance in my life which seems so off-kilter at times because of my intense passions?
Oh, and there’s that graying hair,
Peeking through the fiery red I have applied which represents my personality so well.
I will never let the world see my true age, at least in my hair, because I feel younger than my 43 years.
Do you see my story?
Look closely.
My body?
It sings my song. . . .
**I came across this while I was digging through files in my computer today in search of tax information. In another month I will be 45. I have more wrinkles. I have more scars. I have more gray hair; which I now attempt to cover with something besides the fiery red. My body still sings my song. Nothing will silence it, but in the end it’s just a house. A house for my soul, which is the most beautiful part of me.
Welcome To The Big Top
Desperately, she wanted to know how much he cared, because at times, her insecurities drove her to doubt everything.
Patiently, as always,
He replied thus,
My dear, if the circus came to town, I would don tights and a cape and climb the ladder all the way up to the tiny platform where I would then walk the tightrope without a net just for you.
To which she replied,
My dear, there would be no need to fear a fall, as I would be there to catch you.
He replied thus,
My dear, I would climb inside the cage with a lion and stick my head inside the fierce beast’s jaws whilst holding a greasy double cheeseburger between my teeth!
To which she replied,
My dear, after you removed your head from the lion’s jaws I would wipe the beast’s slobber from your pate, and kiss you on it.
He replied thus,
My dear, I would recite dirty limericks and sing you bawdy love songs whilst riding a unicycle and juggling knives.
To which she replied,
My dear, if you happened to drop a knife and cut yourself after hitting a bump, I would doctor your wounds with Batman band-aids and balance the unicycle while you got back on for another go.
He replied thus,
My dear, as you sit in your special reserved front row seat with the velvet cushion, I would have a corn dog and a funnel cake delivered to you so you could snack on them while watching me put on this show for you, my biggest fan.
To which she replied,
My dear, I would clap and wolf-whistle and cheer loudly, because I will always be the president of your fan club, and will be the first in line to buy a ticket to any of your performances, and always hand you a Route 44 Cherry Limeade when you are done.
He replied thus,
So, my dear, if you don’t now know how much I care, I might as well tear down the big top.
To which she replied,
Don’t you dare! It’s clear you adore me and my quirky ways, as I adore you and your quirky ways, and we have years of performances ahead of us!
Fat Bottom Girl Said What 