jornales

for a moment of joy or moments no one pays for, i give myself a ‘jornal’. this makes me rich. try it.

I was once her (for one Shot Wednesday)

who sits on the couch in the music room
lost in autumn hair, violins on a CD player
wafting smiles not hers, smiles of a piquant woman
her lover lost on the river walk that evening
briar roses crumbled on their steps shredded
foliage cushioned.

She sits on vacant clouds, eyes
hinting wakefulness on pools
the sun once mirrored
then drowned. The geese left no sign
that evening of the walk not even a note
to hold up to a sun sinking on the barge:
logs swayed on the water, old men rasped
scraping brawns the tide whittled,

bumping to the rhythm. She hears
her lover hum the tune,
a river whistling in the runes, flowing
infinitely like words in
a vow: in this and that state
no breath in between
but death. Not geese but iron flies
buzzing into her heart shattered

the pool that afternoon, shards of water
blinding her her lover saying good-bye, to fly
on blades that whirl not wings that beat
on air, to return an angel, breast beribboned
to preen to count those fallen
from his fingers.
She peers through her cloud this afternoon:
a river ebbing at her feet, touching

her wiggling toes, she giggles over
silly notes as violins rise, twirling
allegro on the river bank where she once sat
mourning over geese that afternoon
her lover returned a name
in a note unsigned, the lover

who once was mine.

Posted for One Shot Wednesday at One Stop Poetry, the gathering place of poets and artists yet unmatched in calibre and talent. I’m a follower here. Do check us out!

June 15, 2011 Posted by | free verse, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

simple truths (for One Shot Wednesday)

simple truths rest
on stamens those succulent fibers
engorged by tears
the taste of sea spray

the sense of touch
defines homo sapiens on cheeks
the sweetness anthers hold the pollens
grow filaments on nose tips

smell to beasts like men feeds power
sniffing a cluster of lilacs
the mind sees indigo
the dye of death reeks of weakness

only a distanced eye
sharpens the heels of Lady’s Slippers
only fingertips fit the godhead’s
vacant smile

blistered palms could crack the lightning
break a thunder into a storm
but tongues roll clouds into balls
pelt the lips of magnolias

distend the petals
hold
let shatter into a mesh
of distracted grace

our reasoning
corroded

Posted for One Shot Wednesday at One Stop Poetry, winner of the 2011 Shorty Award for the Arts, a gathering of poets and artists sharing their art, nurturing each other. Check us out.

May 10, 2011 Posted by | free verse, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments