The world needs more poetry! Feel free to use these for your own purposes – just give me a byline or a link back here.
Sky Blue
I really do insist you try
to see the colour of the sky.
We call it blue but more than blue –
a vivid, clear, exciting hue –
a joyful laugh, a happy shout
would more describe the air without.
A blue, some green,
A scrap of white,
A rush and tumble taste of light;
A slap of sound, a hint of bright –
A fast and fearless try at flight.
What a sky – fit to fall through!
Small Talk
Here in the purple of
cold mountain dusk,
in the swell of the
lake and the loon,
I wear my face for a
talkative stranger –
“And how did you like
Saskatoon?”
A pattern of thought
Many twisting corridors
and question marks
and turns –
a maze that refuses to unwind.
Wide open spaces, and
dead ends
and faces:
the original paisley mind.
Hitchhiking
The drizzle dark surrounds us
coldly.
Headlights fast approach.
We press together,
raise our thumbs and
try
to look like
anybody’s children
out on a night like this.
Word Play
Words with a blonde rinse
sentences that smile
playing with phrases for a literary while
Inner connotations
that no one else knows
leaving just illusion
in the part that shows
Whitewater
And we came upon our place –
a lace
of tender branches
leafy
over massive heated rocks
resting trembling
near the rapids
of a water spinning froth
And we stayed
And played
within the cold
and lay upon the heat
And we ached from too much happiness
And laughed to hear our hearts beat.
Breaker
An old lady
scowling
puts foot on the pavement;
a truck driver
honks his horn.
She glares at him
angrily,
puts out the other foot;
truck driver stops,
full of scorn.
Old lady smiles
a victorious smile
and marches across the street.
Truck driver quiets the
protest and roars
of the monster
beneath his feet.
Flight
As the crow flies,
that’s how I rise,
soaring and climbing
in pumping beats of wing
my heart and feather
twisting as I fly.
I ride a warm cocoon of air,
a womb
until I curl a wing
beneath my breast and
plummet like a rock
a threatening shade
a whispered wind shear
has swept me from my course
and spins me tumbling to
another draft
a cloud to light upon
and catch my breath
oh give me haven
solitude
this scattered bird and I.
Tin Grin
Standing at the mirror,
looking at my face,
I noticed that my front teeth
were sort of out of place.
I called up Dr. Hargadon
who said, ”Of course, come in!”
And so I did, and we discussed
the ways to fix my grin.
First they took the pictures, then
they measured out my smile.
Then began the treatments with
the wires, drill, and file.
For months and months I went downtown
and slowly shuffled in.
For months and months I never smiled,
trying to hide the tin.
Until at last the job was done,
and I could hardly wait –
I raced off to the mirror to
make sure my teeth were straight.
I smiled wide and looked right in
but quickly screamed and froze –
For there above my perfect teeth,
I have a crooked nose.
Voice Mail from Mom
Just called to say I love you,
fill you in on all the news –
Joe and Lisa are divorcing
and it’s getting pretty ugly;
it’s a blessing that they never came to blows.
Julie and the baby
were in hospital and maybe
it was kidneys or the liver
something awful
I suppose.
Betty Ann and Joanie
will be coming out to see you.
Betty’s had a bout with shingles
Joanie’s clinically depressed,
and if the medicine is working
no one knows.
Anyhoo…
Just called to say I love you,
fill you in on all the news,
cheer you up so far away
and why you moved across the country
is beyond me, anyway;
but with kids today
that’s just the way it goes.
Ode to Dad
Daddy, daddy, you’re our man –
if you can’t do it, no one can!
Pilot, general, husband, dad –
what a great career you’ve had.
Poignant memories come to mind
of a father strong and kind.
Well, maybe not as strong as Mom
with biceps mighty as they come
but fleet of foot and high of jump –
our dad, the King of Belly Bump.
Father snoozing, taking naps,
catching ‘z’ees while Mother flaps;
being witty, trading quips
hogging all the chocolate chips.
Dad the nature lover, too –
wheezing, sneezing, ah- ah- CHOO!
Mr. Fix-it every time,
connoisseur of jazz and wine;
all of this and smart to boot,
no wonder common men salute!
Now it’s time to turn the page –
become an elder – nay, a sage!
Sleep till noon and eat your fill,
Read the paper, fart at will.
Happy retirement, raise a cheer –
We salute you, daddy dear!
Onset
He touched my hand, I flushed and burned,
And thence for further touch I yearned.
I couldn’t sleep, I tossed in bed,
bewitched by thoughts of him, instead.
I wept by day, undone by stress,
my heart, my mind, my soul a mess.
A great relief to find the cause
Was not the man, but menopause
Shhh…
Tall
pale-pretty
with a driftwood voice
and trembling fingers and lips
She speaks very softly
but everyone hears and
she giggles in a whisper
Protest
I care nothing for you.
Well,
maybe a teardrop
or two.
Questions
Tell me,
does the wrinkle on your brow
belong to me?
Do I intrude in thoughts mundane
and coax a private smile
to your lips?
And in the night
if you should dream,
do I appear?
Say yes!
Still
When I think of us together, you are motionless;
smiling and still, and leaning back to watch me
as I twine around your shoulders and
press warm along your neck and cheek and
kiss your eyes closed and your ears
and slide inside a tenderness of holding.
When you think of us together, I am motionless;
watchful and still, and seeming far away
without a sound that might betray me
when you touch the smile, taste the tear,
you’re close to breaking through, and yet –
And yet, when we’re together, we are motionless.
Body Language
My movement in bed is now
fraught with significance,
shift to the left is affection.
I love you, I want you, I’m ready to talk.
But a roll in the other direction?
Rejection.
Pavlov's Girl
Suddenly I lose my balance.
Gravity becomes oppressive, pulls me down
and makes my every breath an effort.
I am going under, slowly, heart too dull to beat
and lungs too listless to respire.
My eyes are full of unshed tears
my cheeks are heavy, face is stone;
to smile would be an act of heroism.
Some cruel Pavlovian virus
has knocked me sideways
off my feet and left me reeling
from the shock of seeing you.
And feeling
heartsick, lovesick, mortally wounded.
Do you remember…? Did you ever…?
Whatever happened…? Do you still…?
Ring the bell and see the dog's saliva flow.
Speak the name and watch the girl's composure go.
I thought we'd be on even ground
I thought we'd meet like strangers now, but I am
heartsick, lovesick, mortally wounded.
Dug
I dig you.
I dig your light warm soil,
Your thick deep earth,
And your hard strong rock.