Tag: free verse

The Work of Being a Cat


I cannot imagine how difficult it must be, the work of being a cat. Between naps in the sun, one 

Must stalk every individual dust mote that filters through a ray of light on its way from window to rug.

Then there’s the bathing of fur, pink tongue seeking out any hint of dirt or foreign substance with

A rough lick and a promise to bathe again should something upset the delicate balance between 

Tidy and soiled, anxious and calm. Pleasured purring while kneading must be exhausting work 

And is often closely followed by head butting and a thrice circled snuggle into mom’s cozy lap. 

Scratching at posts, and pouncing on catnip-stuffed felt mice often induce wide yawns and paws

Covering eyes. A quick burst of energy when the word, treat, is uttered, even whispered, results in

A mad dash to the food bowl where petting is tolerated, but just barely. “Mom, petting just wears me out.”

Collapsing 

We were so naive before the fall, having watched distant states dissolving from the safety of our

Shores. We sent thoughts, and prayers, and dollar bills, tsk tsking all the while. Nothing, though prepared us

For the shattering collapse, the heads rolling through the hallowed halls, their whispered names

On everybody’s lips. Perhaps those far flung states will reciprocate and send their thoughts, and prayers,

Coins of all the realms, as we resist the tide of tyranny with voices and with votes. Maybe it’s not too late.

And When I Die

And When I Die
by Leslie Noyes

When I die I pray someone will mourn; that a song so achingly sweet will be offered up, and 

People will sob in response. I also want a celebration, though, a praise service with dancing in every aisle, 

Worshipful arms upstretched to the heavens. God only knows where I will turn up. I have not 

Lived a blameless life; how interminably boring that would be, But still, I think of the ecstasy of 

Being taken up by a heavenly host of angels, rising on wings of gossamer, when I die.

“Ascending Angels” by Steven Lavaggi

https://youtu.be/1BPoMIQHwpo

Dancing at the Mall

Dancing at the Mall
by Leslie Noyes

A song from my teens wafted down into the food court where I was engaged in a lackluster meal.

Putting a limp slice of pepperoni pizza aside, I rose from a red plastic bench and danced enthusiastically to

Twist and Shout, my Ferris Buehler moment, while lunch breaking students watched with open mouths,

Giggling and pointing at my intricate gyrations. I winked and smiled and reveled in the knowledge

That I’m alive and at sixty still capable of doing the audacious thing when the music hits me just right.

https://youtu.be/YXUjGftU7-k

Mark My Words

Take your big red pen and mark an x over the parts you find offensive. I guarantee you’ll cross out 

Obscenities right and left. But will you not obliviate the hunger of starving children? A curse word upsets

Your delicate sensibilities but the thought of a woman panhandling only causes disdain. Pull yourself up

By your bootstraps! you cry, without noticing she’s sold her boots to feed her children. You claim

To be pro-life, but in truth you are only pro-birth. Stop pretending you care when you voted for a heartless bastard.

Secret, Secret Agent

For this day I’ve decided to be a secret agent. I will be unobtrusive, nondescript, a silhouette of my usual self.

My cavalier demeanor will bely my purpose: to spy, observe, and report on my fellow citizens.

So far, I have noted one woman pushing a baby stroller. What nefarious plan might she be hatching?

I will hide in plain sight in hopes that her motives are revealed. Oh! Look! Starbucks on the right. Maybe another day.

Lost in Time

Lost in Time

by Leslie Noyes

We scarcely notice the low-flying pterodactyls skimming inches above the trees nowadays.

Likewise, the roar of Tyrannosaurus Rex barely registers in our collective consciousness.

But we’ve begun to feel a change in the climate, colder winters, hotter summers, raging storms year ’round,

And the drums of war are heard pounding across oceans, and from our own great shores destruction rains down.

What have we lost in time? Our connections were severed when we fell through this warp in the universe.

Survival first, right? Despite the despot in the tree fort, we will carry on, only later to discover what we’ve lost.

First Impressions

First Impressions 
by Leslie Noyes

He’d cultivated a gravelly voice, thinking it was sexy and maybe a bit authoritative. 

She’d perfected a killer walk, seductive and full of promise. 
Watching her closely he decided she was out of his league and never spoke a word within her hearing.

Thinking him aloof, she refused to take a single step, and simply ignored him.

The end.

“Passing Strangers,” by Jack Vettriano

What’s in Your Well?

What’s in Your Well 

Where do you go, storyteller?
The days are bright in your world.
Or dark.
Take us there.
Down endless flights of stairs with monsters lurking in the shadows underneath.
Or up to soaring heights filled with cumulonimbus clouds and rainbows around every corner.
Make us laugh.
Or cry.
Give us hopes.
Or dash them.
Throw stones against the barriers that separate man from God.
Hold a blanket close over our shared memories.
Don’t let us hide from the starkness of truth exposed by harsh sunlight.
Or from the shadowy world of imagination.
Illumination.
You draw from your well.
I can’t even find mine.

I Have Love

I Have Love

I have love, ill-defined and tenuous,
Hollowed out and scurrilous.
Jealous to a fault,
Impervious.

Brittle love, strained and anxious,
Stretched too thin, dangerous.
Pushed past the limit,
Hazardous.

Save me from love, rude and ridiculous,
Martyred and meticulous.
Grasping for straws,
Ludicrous.