Tag: poetry

I’m Really Pissed Off at Death

I’ve railed at the heavens,

Cursed and cried,

Tried to rip out that cold, grey stone that’s lodged itself between my fourth and fifth ribs.

When confronted, Death shrugged and smiled a sad smile,

Like, “What did you expect? You know I’m at the end of every rainbow, the finale to every concert, the resolution of every song.”

So I hauled off and punched him. Right in his smug face.

He acted as if it hurt him more than he’d hurt me.

Part of me appreciated that, but I’m still pissed.

And so very sad.

In the past week I’ve lost three friends–two from my childhood and one I’ve known only a precious few years. Death can go suck eggs. This rant is for Mike, McArthur, and Julie.

Parade (Throwback)

Still one of my favorite blog posts. I wrote it my first year as a blogger, and I love it because it paints me as I wish I’d been in high school–the cool chick who did her own thing during the big parade. Instead, I was a band geek afraid to rebel. Oh, to have a few do overs.

https://nananoyz5forme.com/2015/07/26/parade/

Snapshot #243

I’m on a pub crawl in downtown Bristol, Tennessee. This sign outside the State Street brewery made me laugh.

I think I’ll call this photo “Poet Laureate a la Beer.”

Peace, people!

Storm Approaches; Storm Recedes, and a Turtle Trudges On

The leading edge would

Have us jumping at each flash

Of tensile lightning

Flinching at thunder

Cowering ‘neath the covers

Yearning for a pause

Rumbles grow distant

Downpour tapers to sprinkles

This storm fades away

(Found all the photos on Pinterest)

I’m always fascinated by the flow and rhythm of a storm–The light and sound parade that precedes the rainfall, the tapering off of rain followed by an encore of the opening chorus. I get chills when I get to be a witness to the greatest concert on earth.

During an intermission of the storm I’m watching a small turtle make its way across my yard.

Looks like he/she has an appointment.

Peace, people

Empty Promises

Clouds gathered today

Promised rain, then they scattered

Vandals on the lam

Gardeners’ hopes dashed

As wisteria wilted

And daisies declined

No apology

From the clearing azure sky

Only empty vows

(All photos found on Pinterest.)

River Bed

These slippery stones

One, overturned, upended

Victim of the rush

Unimpeded stream

Gallivanting riverward

Leaves casualties

Whoever names them

Will placate the roiling rocks

Calm the water’s roar

A Word of Caution

Do not marry an impatient man

Consider all the ways he’ll make your life hell

Driving you to distraction

Making you forget how to remember

Gaslighting in double time

Afraid to take a breath

Or a break

Or a good cry

Kiss him, if you must,

But let someone else take his last name.

Rhumba in the Jungle

I embraced the rain

From the safety of my den

Felt the thunder shake the house

Watched the lightning scorch the sky

Saw saplings swaying

To the rhythm of the storm

Such a dance within the forest

A rhumba in the jungle, if you please

Reservations

Discarded baby

Doll’s kewpie mouth serenely

Smiles while cars drive by

Note: I was driving down the busy interstate yesterday and noticed a vintage style doll sprawled carelessly on the shoulder of the road. No other detritus surrounded the discarded doll. Weird, right? I’d have gone back to retrieve her, but I-10 isn’t all that conducive to stopping.

Cinderella, Dressed in Yellow

Sketch a girl in black and white,

Pigtails flying, slapping against a plaid shirtwaist

Skinny sun browned legs skip-hopping to a rhythmic chant

Cinderella, dressed in yellow,

Went upstairs to kiss a fellow.

Made a mistake and kissed a snake,

How many doctors did it take?

Rope twirls ’round, up, then down, over and over again.

All in the wrist, she thinks as she counts, “One, two…twenty…ninety,” and beyond.

So many doctors! She can jump all day, or at least until recess ends.