Tag: free verse

The Dark Places

Everyone knows the dark places, those that linger on the edge of consciousness like a Neil Young song. 

Down by the River, why’d you shoot your baby? Did you go into that dark place and become so 

Disoriented that there was no return? I watched myself in a mirror once. Got lost in my own eyes,

And almost drowned in a river of madness before clawing my way back to the other side. 

But no one even knew I’d ventured over. I washed my hands and splashed water on my face

Before going to prepare a simple beef casserole for dinner. The onions made my eyes water.

“Woman Looking at Herself in Mirror,” artist Katsushika Hokusai (1760-1849)

Just Words

Those words,
Punitive
Words.
Wishing violence
On her
Future self.

Cringe worthy,
Words.
Cruel,
Hateful,
Damaging,
Shaming.
From your
Grown-up mouth.
The balance of
Power,
Unequal.
Her heart,
Broken.

Choose your
Words more
Wisely
She won’t be a
Child forever.
Her damage
Traced
Right back
To your words.
And will you feel
Justified
When she
Fulfills the
Bad girl
Schema?
You told her
She deserved
Only the
Worst.

Time (A Collaboration with Julie Powell)

Be sure to click on Julie’s link (below) to get the big picture. It’s gorgeous!

Time

Time doesn’t count,
Unless you’re counting on time
To heal a broken heart or
Comfort the mourning soul.

Feel the watch’s weight,
Note the imprint in the pocket.
Time waits for no one,
Yet claims everyone.

This fob in my hand
Its heft, the smooth silver
A metronome in the round
Time’s own keeper.

https://spark.adobe.com/page/dUW54CQw6nZvJ/

Call Me

Call me, she urged, then felt her skin flush red. Had she really batted her eyelashes coquettishly?

Out of character, out of her league, but her outrageously raging hormones won the day. Even now, 

Decades later, she cringes at the memory. Hoping at least that he’s forgotten her flirtatious 

Demeanor. Maybe someday she can laugh at her fumbling, mumbling attempt at seduction. 

Oh girl, she laments, Whatever possessed you? Age brings wisdom, but ponders regrets.

Ludwig Stutz, “Flirtation in the Garden.”

A House with no Doors

“Twenty-four!”

Drawn by the sound of non-rhythmic counting we approached a house. At least it appeared 

to be a house–four sides, a peaked roof, an old stone porch. Even so the roughly cubed structure 

was devoid of doors, and on further investigation presented no windows. 

“Twenty-five,” 

intoned a disembodied voice. What manner of edifice, we wondered, looked like a family 

dwelling, yet gave no opportunity for entry or exit? 

“Twenty-six.” 

After circling the structure three full times, I banged my fist against the place where the front door 

logically should be situated, just up the three stone steps, centered on the building’s apparent 

Anterior surface. “Puzzling,” my partner ventured, his antennae twitching, when no response 

resulted from my knocking. Suddenly, the house lifted and came crashing brutally down on him. 

“Twenty-seven!” 

I scampered away across the sand as quickly as my six legs could carry me, thinking, “What madness?!”

 Author’s note: This tale came to me at 2 a.m. I’m not sure what it means, but it insisted on being written.

Flawed Logic

In his search for the moon, he discarded the sun, then wondered why he floundered in the dark.

He cursed as his shins cracked against the base of an antique bureau, and he was heard to mutter,

“I swear, it was right here. Big, and round, and full.” 

His lady tsked, “Come back to bed, love. All will be well come the morning.”

Stolen

Moments taken, undulating, slipping through the fingers of my mind. Slowly marking 

Time when all we had was time. Permanent markers. Red and black indelible print on soft

Surfaces. Everyone could see that you belonged to me. Except for you. And her. Thieves.

Mourning 

Come, bring your flowers,
Your condolences, the
Awkward and the eloquent.

Bring offerings of food,
And sincere expressions
Of loving concern.

Those I love have lost
A husband, a father,
Grandfather, and friend.

A life well lived,
A loss deeply mourned
With grace and faith.

Early on Friday morning our son, Jason, texted us the sad news that his father-in-law had passed away. We’d known that “Jamie” had been battling terminal cancer, yet the news still hit us hard.

We never had the opportunity to meet Jamie, but Jason loved him, so as soon as we heard of Jamie’s passing I hurriedly packed a bag and headed west towards the town of Hemphill, Texas. 

Even in the midst of her grief Jamie’s wife, Fran welcomed me into their home. She and her daughters, Pam and Liz (our daughter-in-law) are, separately, forces of nature–strong, beautiful, and independent. Together they are the best kind of formidable. I went thinking I could be of some help, but soon learned that these ladies had everything in hand.

I know they will have hurdles to overcome in the days ahead, and they are in my prayers. But I won’t waste any time worrying about their coping abilities. 

My brain keeps trying to formulate a tale around Jamie. While I didn’t know him I feel like I have an idea of the kind of man he must’ve been. Maybe one day I’ll have the right words. He deserves the right words.

Peace, people. 

Justify

Justify your greed
Your corruption
Thinly veiled
Aid for the wealthy,
The young and the
Healthy.
Screw the poor and the
elderly.
Dine out on
Their misfortune,
Throw kickbacks to
The CEOs.
Surely foulness and
guilt will follow
You all the days
Of your rotten
Existence.

Fan Base

Surreal,
Pre-apocalyptic,
Post-industrial,
Oscillating fan,
Occupying the
Passing lane
Midway
Between Biloxi and
Baton Rouge.
A swerve and a miss.
Batting a thousand.
The crowd went wild!