I've Got Your Number

it’s a numbers game
as the calendar pages
flutter and fall to the ground

paint by the numbers
craft your work of art
display it for others to see

pick a number any number
get her number
and make it yours as well

stop wishing you had
Jenny’s number 867-5309
trust me and thank me later

you’d change yours
to an unlisted number
before the month was out

Confucius say
your lucky numbers
are hidden inside a cookie

so, take a number
make it so, Number One
your life is your final frontier

live your life
play the numbers
maybe you’ll win today

when your number’s up
you’ll be number than numb
so, enjoy each one until then

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written in response to Robert Brewer's Wednesday Poetry Prompt #61, Poetic Asides

Storyteller

ancient ritual
carried forward
in the eyes
in the voice
of the storyteller
children circle
squirming bodies
pounding hearts
racing chills
plot and drama
conflict and surprise
twilight stage
fireside or bedside
stories unwind
breathless voices beg
just one more

Wind

you can hold a breath
you can let it out slow
exhale, oh so slowly
you can well imagine
that you have control

you can fan yourself
scrap of folded paper
swishing to and fro
a flick of your wrist
an artificial breeze

you can stand atop
the highest hill
turn your face to
the driving storm
and beat your breast

you can open your throat
pull air into your lungs
and use it to power
your passionate cries
shouting your pain aloud

yet you cannot tame it
this wild, unruly stallion
you cannot break it
as it goes galloping
over the endless earth

better to surrender yourself
throw open all your curtains
unlock and raise your windows
spread wide your arms
let down your tangled hair

embrace the feral wind
and surrender your will
to it’s untamed fury
embrace its true nature
and you will surely fly


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Prompted by the following last line:

“For now she knew what Shalimar knew: If you surrendered to the air you could ride it.” ~Toni Morrison, Song of Solomon (1977)

Insult to Injury

gaping wound in me
invisible seeping blood
pain so constant seems
normal, easy to forget
this is the real reason
I have no more strength
why I cannot breathe
carrying it for so long
I don’t recall the blade
or hand, the original cut

I neglect to bandage it
no time to heal no caution
no protection in the storm
until one careless word
a strike that bites and cuts
I can’t even discern intent
awash in pain, defenseless
I curl, drenched in blood
can’t stem the flow how
can a heart bleed so much

will no one notice this
bleeding broken piece
of me spilling out?
must every one smile
and blink and nod
and keep walking past?
will you ask whether
you slipped and cut with
your sharp edged words
perhaps even apologize?

Waiting for Rain

I sat on the porch last
night for an hour watching
the lightning chase itself
across the sky.

The sticky heat clung to
me like a bed sheet
the strong storm
creeping over the
horizon toward me.

Promising rain and
coolness it lingered
long before it ever
delivered too long
as a trickle of sweat
slithered down the
back of my knee.

I watched and waited,
and longed for you.

Occasionally a breeze
would tousle the tops
of the trees, and tease
the flag on the flagpole
but it would peter out
before reaching my skin
and I'd beg in a whisper
"Come on... rain!"

The wind grew stronger
tangling my hair against
my shoulder lifting the
heat from my skin
before letting it settle
again like a blanket.

On the edge of my chair
face toward the sky
I waited impatiently
for the first cooling drops.

As the first one struck
the ground at my feet
I stepped into the yard
raising my arms
to embrace you.

Faster, harder they fell
splashing against my
skin like kisses, on my
arms, neck, cheeks, eyes.

Open mouthed I caught
them on my tongue while
the wind whispered in my
ears, your voice, your words.

I stood this way until the rain
soaked through my clothes
and drenched my skin
damp hair clinging to me
the wind making me shiver
with your delicious touch.

I watched the clouds blow
slowly past, thunder rumbling
in the distance and whispered
a request to this wind and rain
to this storm on it's way to
where you are---please carry
messages of love from me.

Winter Sleep

coldness of silence
without a coat
wind gusting wildly
skin stinging icy red
with every breath
my chest cries out
in agonized protest

curled into a tight ball
I shiver, shudder wait
tempted to let winter
lull me to sleep, escape
trying to convince self
it is short term, temporary
soon the sun will come

aching for the drip, drip
thaw of springtime light
and the growing warmth
of morning when I hear
the voice of truth whisper
that the ice is gone and
winter just a nightmare

----------

Won third place in the Facebook poetry contest hosted by The Facebooker's Guide to the Poetry Universe. Awarded 10.4.2009.

Raw, Unedited, Incomplete

from my lonely seat in the corner
through the coffee shop window
the outside feels like, looks like rain
the sun is there still shimmering
summer heat dancing on the pavement
but shadows loom darker than before
brooding and restless, the atmosphere
is weighted with leaden anticipation
my sanguine half wishes the warm wind
would scatter the clouds and usher blue
back into to the sky but I’m conflicted
my melancholy half hopes heaven will split
and the winds will rage, grant permission
to the storm and to me, to shout at
the top of my lungs with the thunder,
release my storm instead of pretending
all clear and sunny, in this hour alone
I sit and imagine a violent storm would be
preferable to forced cheer I don’t feel

New Angle

the world around me
wants to tilt and
coffee cups and keys
chairs and shoes
and ideas set in stone
want to slide off
their firm foundations
want to slip into a void
of confusing questions
darkness beyond black
I cannot ignore it now
this shaking up of
all I thought I knew
I cannot curl into myself
hide inside imagination
I need a rope a lifeline
someone’s hand to hold
someone who recognizes
a bit of me in their self
sees their self in me
while the world around me
shifts and sets it all awry

Nightmare

Woke from a nightmare
Unable to find sleep
Staring back into the face
Of arrogant silent darkness

My heart pounds in my
Chest a hundred questions
Refusing to release me
Back to resting quiet peace

The tannic acid taste of
Fear fills my mouth like
Coppery pennies sucked
By a childish tongue, bitter

Can't shake this feeling of
Dread, of loss, of absence
abcess something missing
in myself, was it ever there?

Walking Wounded

life is having
his way with me
while I tend wounds
and pray for rest
this game is no fun
hands tied this way
behind my back

my world is spinning
out of my control
I am defeated by
not a full frontal
attack I can defend
a team of snipers
at every new turn
unexpected angles

life thrusts and parries
taunts me with laughter
I am weary to the bone
Tired of waiting for
the next advance

I have no strength
to lift or hold these
weapons any longer
as this legion tramples
me an army of one

I cannot breathe
or hear the sounds
of coming rescue
I have hoped will echo
rising over the hill
they may be too late

I face these demons
life has assigned me
on my own clinging
to the hope they will
at least leave me
to rise once again
after he’s had his fun

Thirteen

thirteen March
and the days
march on
moving toward
the ides of
ancient history
toward infamy
betrayal of one
who believed
himself beloved

and you my friend
loved companion
will you conceal
your heinous intent
will you injure in
the coming hours?
I mark the calendar
pages as they turn
ever nearer the
ides of yore – do you?

Constraint

dark and crimson wine
washes my tongue
soothes the tattered
edge of my nerves
left by the tearing
dispute, misunderstanding

words ricochet against
the walls in my head
untamed, scattered, tangled
I fight to sort them
press them to make sense

they refuse.

in this teeming place
cigarette smoke gathers
overhead like the fog
clouding my heart
choking me, making it
difficult to breathe

questions that resist answers
fill my mouth, barricaded
at my lips by fear and disbelief
I sway unintentionally
in time with the music
I’m not really listening
still it moves me subliminally
fuels this restless anxiety

deep in my body I discern
a longing to break free
make a break for the door
escape into icy winter night
where the wind will rake
against my chest, grip my heart
with its bony fingers, forcing
me to feel raw, sensate reality
to loose the emotional flood
dammed inside my walled heart
burst the walls, let questions
escape in a torrent

but fear sits on my lap
weights me to my seat
if not for this pen, I would be
totally silent, avoiding chaos
that threatens to spill
from my weary heart