Tuesday February 1, 2011 Big Tent Poetry/ Small Stone/ Magpie February #1

Small Stone February #1
White, cold
Covering
Changes everything
During the night.
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http://bigtentpoetry.org/

Big Tent Poetry

To ☛ float or not to sink
We teach our children to swim
For fear they will all sink like rocks
Lived all your life in water
Knew it better than anyone

Your gentle touch lost to sea
No longer you will ☛ handle me
Nor use the sand paper
To ☛grind to your pleasing
I was ☛resistant
I stayed ☛remote
For fear I would lose myself

I crawled into the ☛ cabinet
Into the ☛darkened space
Positioned alongside
The salt and pepper
You said
For my own good,
Locked away
Collected
Put on a shelf
Lived all my life near water

I gave up the daily ☛grind
Remained totally myself
I ☛rotate the handle
Unwilling to complete
Your collection
You took the ☛blade to my person
I screamed into the ☛darkening night.
I knew better than anyone

I asked all that was holy,
Denied you my life
Stayed ☛alert,
Looked for another ☛angle
Slipped away into the ☛darkening night
Made a new life
So I could ☛function
Without drowning
I knew this better than anyone
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Magpie #51
http://magpietales.blogspot.com/
I placed the pavers
To create a path
From front door to drive
So you could find
Your way back

Old, worn
You might swear
They had been there forever
Chipped and cracked
Like you and me

We took a step back
Then walked the foot path
Promised forever
Did not realize
You were leaving
You had already packed

What we had together
Was old, worn out
Chipped and cracked
Set on the curb
Could only be seen
When you looked back

Old, worn out
And useless
Now a memory
Unlike the pathway
I created
From front door to drive
Old and worn
Chipped and cracked
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My friend Jim Clark has started a new blog, I think you will like it.http://jclarkart.blogspot.com/2011/01/introduction-to-dioramic-painting.html?spref=fb

Sunday December 11, 2010/ I saw Sunday/Sunday Scribbling/ Carry on Tuesday/Writers Island

http://carryontuesdayprompt.blogspot.com

Prompt: Title Not Waving But Drowning, of the poem by Stevie Smith.

NOT WAVING BUT DROWNING
On the boat or on shore,
I saw you waving,
A greeting,
A farewell,
But of the drowning,
I know little.
It was a tale told,
Hardly made sense,
I didn't know,
When you said goodbye,
It would be the last,
And then your life was over,
The door closed,
The sea was the same,
The waves rolled in,
The tides continued to change,
But the world was not the same.
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http://writersisland.wordpress.com/
Writer's Island
Prompt #33: Wonderous.

WONDROUS
I first heard the word whispered,
And I wondered,
I pushed ahead to see.
Later, I pulled the book from the shelf,
The word was written on every page.
Each word was a different color,
And all the pictures were of you.

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Image from the Gorilla Girls Website.

Sunday Scribblings Prompt #245: Limits
http://sundayscribblings.blogspot.com/

LIMITS
What are my limits?
I don't mean to whine,
But there are limits,
Placed because of gender,
Yes, times have changed,
And somethings are better,
But the more things change,
The more they stay the same.

There are limits placed because of age,
Each day that passes,
That pile grow larger,
And limits of location.
When one lives on the outer limits,
She must find ways to stay in contact,
With the center of the Universe,
If she can figure out where that is?
I don't like to focus on limits,
But to know they exist,
Is probably helpful.
Then remember the advantages,
This is helpful, too.
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Image from internet, roadside shrines, in New Mexico.

http://isawsunday.blogspot.com

I Saw Sunday

THE CROSSING
Today we counted,
The roadside shrines,
Constructed and decorated,
Some crosses,
Glitter fringe flies,
Flowers and ribbons.

At the very spot a person,
Crossed over,
Alcohol is the killer,
Your feet stagger in,
Soft deerskin moccasins,
Or heavy work boots,
On and off the highway,
You dance.
In New Mexico,
The tradition of,
Poverty and hopelessness,
Are alive and well