Tag: free verse

Patriotism

We used to wait for full darkness to light our sparklers, better, daddy said, to see them

Sizzle against the velvety night sky. Little hands clutched fiery sticks, frantically spouting

Brilliant illuminations of red, white, and blue in a dangerously fun display of patriotic

Zeal. The big fireworks followed: bottle rockets, Roman candles, fountains and snakes.

Daddy always lit the firecrackers. Bundled black cats rat-a-tat-tatting like Al Capone’s

Mob kicked off the show. Momma clutched me close, but she didn’t have to fret. My natural

Self-preservation instincts won the night. I was happy to watch the show within her grasp.

  

Collusion

scam the man
deliver the bribe
cheat and lie and steal,
work in secret
pull it off
master the art of the deal.

forget the cost
trust that’s lost
with every lie that’s told,
what matters most
is what you boast
and the power that you hold.

demean women
mock the disabled
embrace the KKK,
erase the years
of calm diplomacy
make bigotry all the rage.

invoke violence
strut and posture
that wall is gonna be “yuge,”
run us into the ground
like your casinos
we have everything to lose.
Lest we forget statements Trump has made or his lack of common human decency:

 
  
  

Practice Made Perfect

He began preparing for her death years before the actual event; his shocked expression;

A hand clasped to his chest. Practiced repeatedly asking what had happened followed

By a stumbling pause. When the time came, though, he found himself genuinely grieved;

Motions more than mere pantomimes of loss. Maybe, he thought, I’d actually loved her.

Reflecting on this he realized he’d never fully appreciated her. Their home became mausoleum-like,

Every photo of her, just her, now papered the walls. His own visage cut away, often raggedly.

His guilt lurked in every corner, yet no one ever looked. Rehearsal had been his undoing.

Motion Giddiness

we tickety clicked to the top of the drop, anticipation taking hold in the pit of my chest.

too late now, wheels set in motion, arms raised high in jubilation as we slowly straddled the crest.

music raced, strobing lights outlined faces, speed as distance divided by time enhanced fear of falling.

we’ve got this, plummeting only to soar upward again, no tickety clicking only whoosh, loop calling.

spiraling up in tight circles winding apogean, then back to perigee with a stomach dropping lunge.

giggling uncontrollably, swiftly closing into denouement, a calculated hitch before taking the plunge.

  

Meditation Song

I am the tuning fork, a shimmering frisson of vibration calling the heart to harmony

I am also the rock, though, throwing ripples concentrically across once calmed waters

Peace and chaos vie for my soul, my meditation song pulled from the place of light

Spilling haphardly across the courtyard where I tend tightly ordered rows of flowers

Regimental form forced on blood red roses contrary to their petals’ better nature,

Never certain which will win the day, tranquility or turmoil, I toil with hope and a smidgen of fear.

Color Me Lonely

Once the sun sets over Lake Yvette the sky takes on a subdued tint, filtered through a green

Glass, vintage Coke bottle. Stillness supersedes movement in the magic time between 

Day and night. No leaves rustle. No animals stir. Deep silence permeates until broken

By the trill of a lone bird. Here I am, he calls. I rule the evening. Hear my plea, oh Lord.

I try to answer him, but we speak different dialects of the same language. Hear me, I cry. Nothing more.


Outrageous

I couldn’t help but notice that 2nd Amendment bumper sticker next to the

Confederate flag emblem and the Trump for President sign on your white pickup

Truck. I raised my hand to wave my middle finger, but was afraid you’d take it as an

Invitation, so instead I mustered a smile and entertained happy thoughts of the 

Donald being dissolved in a vat of acid while wrapped in the stars and bars of a 

Symbol from America’s racist past. My momma always told me that ladies don’t

Flip the bird, but she said nothing about imagining the gruesome end of a would-be

Tyrant and his dangerous rhetoric. Being ladylike never felt so good.

  

Words

She thinks she’s done

Nothing left to say

Then words like salmon

Swim into her brain

“Write me,” they cry

“We need to be heard!”

So she writes with abandon

Every single word.

Upstream swimming

Struggling for life, though

Some are better left 

Engaged in cold strife.

Again, Dammit

Again Americans
mourn the deaths of
those lost to
gun violence.

Again politicians
offer their thoughts
and prayers and
meaningless
platitudes
whilst simultaneously
pocketing what can only be
described as
blood money
courtesy of the
National Rifle
Association.

Again mothers mourn
the loss of children
and children mourn
the loss of parents
while those
lacking in
humanity worry that
Obama’s gonna
confiscate their
fucking
guns.

Don’t talk to
me of prayers on
one hand
and praise
guns on the
other.
Your hypocrisy
is exceeded
only by your
utter lack of
compassion.

Poured

POURED

poured the cabernet then poured out my heart
tongue loosened by a crush of grapes
uncorked, unbottled, unstoppered
all the metaphors for letting go

once begun there was no cessation
only an endless stream of oak-tinted red fueling grief-stricken confidences

three glasses in, laughter trickles from somewhere
i never knew there was a spider’s web in the lower left chamber of my heart, but hilarity precedes sadness and another pour goes ’round

spin little spider, spin.