This Poet's Dream

These are the fluid lines that spill forth…

Month: April, 2012

Work Begins

Amethyst eyes
Peer from beneath
Kohl-rimmed lids
I clasp my fingers
About the comb
and set to work
Untangling, smoothing
Strands
Clumped from
Too many days of oils
Applied generously
Fragrant scents
To mask what might
Singe the air
I run the teeth
In slow strokes
Morning ritual
For the lady
Waiting for the sun
As it begins to rise
Boiling over the sharp
Crests of sands

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New Waves

Newsprint is fading
E-books are on the rise
Waves of digital resources
Infinite particles
Carrying words
Images
Thoughts
Instructions
Through the ether
I write my poems now
On my portable magic internet box
What will happen
If the sun flares?
What will happen
When the lights go out?
Will the information
Be stored in enough places?
Will it be saved
Or will it burn
As the great library?

Haiku #8

This entrance is closed
You dropped the ball on this one
No detour allowed

Haiku #7

Hours of the night
Pass slowly when we’re apart
Sun gives no relief

First Dance

Smothering the stars
Clouds are forming again
Waiting to catch
Just a glimpse of the
Rusty crescent
Low in the western sky
I walk home
From an evening of fun
Dress up clothes
Dinner
And video games
3 faces sharing smiles, laughter
And a secret knowing
A new light sparks this darkness
And she has the eyes of a tigress
Today we pored over fabrics
Dresses
Corsets
Ribbons
Underthings…
Finally assembled
We made our way into the night
Foraging for more than a meal
We are entering new territory
The heart says open
And indeed I find
That many of my desires
Are being fulfilled
Before the true dance
Has even begun

Art Haus Haircut

Scissors snip and fly
About the edge of his neck
Smoothing the lines
They are chatting
Small talk
And he is having, finally
A moment to be pampered
To de-stress
I enjoy the observance

I have cut my own hair
For so many years now
That I do not remember
The feeling of the comb
In someone else’s hands
Smoothing out my strands
Taming the waves
Creating form and style
Out of my mess of tangles

Evening Hour Thoughts

A traveler’s dream seems much different
Than the mother of four
A grand escape is always on the mind

While miles pass by
Making the best of the bonus scores of the day
The traveler waits for night

Mother waits though, too
For those precious moments
Of quiet time after the children are at rest

I suppose, then
There are few differences
After all

The traveler’s body is tired
After constant motion
And so the mother’s body is the same

They both crave those flashes
Of a stillness only known
On rare and secret occasions

A stillness that stops the world from moving around them
As they plunge into an inner world
That matches the external view

They dream of brief interludes
Between the constant dances
Of form in motion

Rest from bodies requiring attention
Just a small moment of respite
Short lived, yet necessary

These opportunities often reveal
New levels joy that can come
Through simply being alive

And so we find
A connective thread
Again

Haiku #6

I fight no small flame
Now find arrival of sun
My shield withstands it

4.2.0.

Eight foot toke
Times the moment of exhale
Moving into the realm of all time
Blessings attract blessings
Tears rain down upon tears
Tonight
We live as V.I.P.
Making the best of the beats
Smooth skin
Slides in strides
A dance party in my lap

Haiku #5

Sometimes too many
I’m just dancing after all
Spring rides high this year