Italian Plum

Small and perfect
Italian Plum
Almost black
Your purple is so deep.

Yellow flesh
Fiberous veins
under dark skin
a center like a brown blind eye.

Cape Disapointment

In the joyous morning
Bird song and laughter fills the air
Children scattered, pine scents

Whomphhh breaks the noisy silence.
I swallow my heart.

Screams - my own echoing my mother's senseless siren tones
"Get her out...get her out" a mantra streaming from my screaming lips
directed at the sharp orange flames that fill my entire vision.

Running the steps to her flaming tomb my father a moment ahead.
Heat ripping the air around my face
for one breathless second before they appear.

Aflame and shocked.
I stike them to the ground.
Instinct takes over in frantic effort
Remove the blue flames.

They flee seeking healing and safety.
What next?
Remove explosives, remove the children,
minimize damage, sooth the family,
carry on, carry on, carry on,
then sleep.

Months later when I least expect it,
my mind hears it and I swallow my heart again.
An echo of a defining moment
heard only by myself-

Whomphh. The world flashes orange.

Blood on Butter

Crisp jewel-like days
shimmering and spicy

Deep red and pear yellow
Blood on butter

Richer, clearer, dramatic
is Autumn

Auga

Clear perfection
Wonder of the Universe
Flowing freely from my tap.

Many fight for you
Many die for you
Many die without you.

You propel us
illuminate us
drown us
cleanse us of filth

You flow from the mountains
to the streams, joyful
to the rivers, swift
to the lakes, serene
to me

Smug Teen

Arms crossed
to keep me out

Hell bent
to deny the obvious

Absolutely positive
but oh so wrong

Totally oblivious
of anyone but self

Ready for adulthood
acting like a child

Smugly self-satisfied
while still insecure

sixteen.

Imaginary Garden

Dreaming of August
in the torrential rains of March
Seeing my harvest
with snow on the ground.

Lack not imagination
for without we're doomed
with nothing ever dreamed of
thought of ... wished for

No joyous bird song
No garden in bloom.

Lament of a High School Teacher

Horrible movies,
slutty styles,
cringe at the language,
thier driving a trial.

Can no longer remember,
my own wild ways.
Growing old is a drag,
when around teens all day.

I took this job,
For the long summer breaks.
Now the stress just causes,
distressed head aches

Death to Chocolate

Die -
sticky sweet brown fingers
that leave prints on the keyboard

Perish -
fructose laden haven.

You have ravenged my self control
evilly enslaving me over the batter bowl
laden with browie mix or cookie dough.

You're addictive -no doubt -
but what you "add" one can do without!

My tastebuds mourn your absence
so my waistline might celebrate.

Because when the pleasure of coacoa is gone
It's trace lingers ever round me.

Married to a Homebrewer

He sits by the hour - stiring his pot
the steam rising wildly around him.

The smell of the hops
permeates the shop.
Oh how I wish he'd come inside then!

The batch must be right
a Brewers delight
before his focus will wane.

Who ever thought
my attentions be naught.
At brew time, my husband's a pain!

The Formal Dance

She paces the floor in the dress we picked out
White cotton, red trim and some lace
Cheeks flush and heels click,
Hair bounceing quick.
Excitement and youth radiates.

Rite of passage so serious, she- most delirious.
Her anxiety an atmospheric strain.
The time has come to go,
She has no boy in tow.
Dad drives her down the lane.

A woman just left, familiar but not
Footfalls pattering like rain.
The girl slowly replaced,
Lost amongst lace,
I hope to see her again.

Spun Crust

(I was sick when I wrote this and felt entombed in my room)

As I craze
in my solitary room

remind me of your existance
outside my spun crust.

Tap and chisle me out
so I may see the sun again.

Bird of Paridise

Bird of Paradise

Old man,
riding on the bus
his wife's coat buttoned
taunt over his paunch.

Bird of Paradise glittering on his lapel
sparkeling as a dare to your eye

furtively glance his way
skimming the stern face
under the greasy black combover
to rest on the gem below

(OK, on the bus in Seattle I actually saw this man and I knew what the pin was called because my MOM has one. It drew my eyes like a magnetic pull!!)

For Aunt Lorinda on her Birthday

I wrote this when a group birthday announcement was posted honoring my late aunt's birthday. She passed away when I was 20 of cancer leaving behind her two teenage children. She was loved very much - not just by me but by everyone. Aunt Lorinda was a bit of a free spirit.

For Aunt Lorinda on her birthday

I'll see you behind the curtian -
across the great divide -
past the last bend in the road -
amounst the hosts you'll hide -

Where souls take breathless flight
and love envelopes all who travel there.
Where ended is life's hardscrabble fight,
with sorrows you no longer bear.

Freedom from pain and misery,
Cherish the incredible mystery,
God forgives with new life divine,
across the great divide.

Bread Winner

How I miss you -
miss you
miss you.

How you were -
before the cares of creation
became your imagined burden.

Change is not always good.
Poverty is not always bad.

The price is not worth a broken product -
Beyond repair
Beyond care

Oh, how I miss you.

Early Spring

Small buds
of green birth
seedlings popping
in window sill earth.

Bird party
in softened air
workable ground
sky blue and fair.

Woke up this morning
and what da ya know...
.
.
.
Snow.