she’d never been adept
at hanging lefthand curves;
hitting the apex just so,
leaning tight into the turn.
she’d fall out too soon,
or overshoot, rattling
her delicate equilibrium.
but let her lean right,
oh my! and the gods smiled
at the smooth transition,
steely nerves, graceful form.
she pondered a world of
only right hand curves
and ended up exactly
where her ride began.
Peace, people.
Written in response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt:
Remember the seven cardinal sins? You’re given the serious task of adding a new one to the list — another trait or behavior you find particularly unacceptable, for whatever reason. What’s sin #8 for you? Why?
First students, let’s review those pesky seven deadly sins:
My personal favorite–lust,
followed in order of the sins
to which I’ve succumbed
in order of frequency
from greatest to least:
sloth, (yes, i’m wicked lazy)
pride, (and darned proud of it,)
gluttony (i’ll toast again to that!)
with just a soupçon of
greed, wrath, and envy,
to make me truly interesting.
I nominate intolerance
to take its rightful
place among these
numbered transgressions.
Divisive and shaming,
a barrier to peace;
bigotry makes no
loving concessions.
Peace, people.
none of the cards on the stationery
aisle said exactly what needed saying.
they offered only sweet platitudes:
wishing you well,
sending our prayers,
hoping for a speedy recovery.
i wanted a card that named names and
kicked ass:
that sonofabitch needed hanging!
who the hell do you think you are?
you deserved that broken tibia!
with a picture of daisies on the front.
Peace, people.
left alone with
thoughts unwieldy
too intense for
this bright day
crushed beneath
thoughts of envy
will they always
hold this sway?
gathered close for
future’s telling
slowly ticking in
mad men’s hands
stop the clock and
start the living
mark the place
then heave the sand.
prayed, oh please
don’t let this nature,
keep me wrapped in
jealousies
sifting through grayed
grainy photos
begging for my
soul’s surcease.
Red,
Inhospitable,
Waterless,
Sand full,
Storm-ridden,
Planetary
Neighbor.
Visible,
Identifiable
Even to an
Untrained eye,
225 million
Kilometers
Distant.
Yes, I’d go
In a heartbeat.
Explore placid
Acidalia Planitia,
Marth Crater’s
Western edge, and
Ares Vallis.
Alas, I am
Old.
Not astronaut
Material.
Perhaps, though,
In twenty years
Or so,
Top-rate
Extended care
Facilities for
Elderly
Dreamers
Might open up
On distant
Mars.
Sign me up.
Peace, people!
the fetishists have cried,
“leave our guns alone!”
when no one has called
for their removal.
paranoid fools who fail
to see or care, cry time
and time again that any
move breeds futility
while still more innocents
die and we offer up only
thoughts and prayers.
Peace, people.
I fell into your poem sideways,
not top to bottom as you likely wrote
it about love, and loss, and maybe
the taste of food.
A word stood out, midway through
your second stanza, so my brain followed
my eyes and without thinking
i read horizontally backwards.
Oddly enough, it made perfect sense and
I wondered, did you intend for me to
explore your words this way;
did you create a new form?
Only on my second pass did I find your
opening line and its nuances. Beautiful
rightside up and inside out.
A masterpiece.
in shadowed spaces
stretching
look up into the gloom
listening
whales call sonorously
undulating
peripherally, fan blades
whirring
negative thoughts intrude
pushing
failures and regrets
begging
grant them pardons
releasing
mind making peace
accepting
body seeking balance
meditating
soul sighing gratefully
surrendering
She struggles with a lack of ambition
For her, a drug, a cold addiction.
Mistress of attempting little
Cancelled appointments
Vitae contentious
Lackadaisical,
Victimized,
Captive,
Lazy.
Heart to heart
Mind over matter
Shifted priorities
Discerned differences
Follow the heart’s desire
Listen to the mind’s measure
Balance perceived risks and rewards
Everything worthwhile is weighed
Even breaths and heartbeats
Register on life’s scales
Tipping is recommended
Just a thumb on hold
Changing outcomes
Praying for Eyebrowz 