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How Laura met her HusbandHey kids!
“Yes, Aunt AdriAnna?”
Do you want to know the story of how your mommy and daddy first met and fell in love?
“Shut up, Tone-tone. You don’t count.”
Be nice, mini-me. So here’s the story:
I knew your Mommy Laura for a few years, and so I happened to be there when she and your Daddy met. Actually, it was partly because of me that they met at all.
It was during my boxing days, and the alter-reality days, when Laura and I were gallivanting across the country selling clothes, jewelry and other handmade things. Good times. While in New York she was showing me the family property. This led to an impromptu skinny-dipping session and…
Shut up, Tone-tone. So we were swimming, and splashing, and all-around just having fun when suddenly we heard a man’s voice. ‘Doth mine eyes deceive me? Yon maidenly nymphs cavorting as free s
Becoming Someone Else"How," she asked, "Could I be anyone else?"
So honestly puzzled,
I didn't have the heart to break
To the ease of switching personas
like parasitic plants.
Each lashing its roots into the skin
until bare nudity
as well as impossible.
What is Blood?Acrid copper coats my senses
with a hint of iron for flavor.
Once again my white skin
is awash with my red flowing blood.
It spreads like a stain,
an unwashable blot
forming an 'I' on my face
rather than a scarlet 'A'.
My blood must hate me.
It's so eager to escape
that it bursts out at every opportunity,
even flooding my throat at night,
until I awake choking and gasping -
spreading red droplets everywhere.
Unless this is a birth?
My drops like seeds or fish eggs
sent out into the cruel world?
Life and death in crimson flows
and it alone knows the difference.
Mrs Mcrady and Mr PeabodyMrs. Mcrady was secretly a murderer. "As you are in your heart, so you are in truth," and nothing enthralled her grandmotherly heart so much as the notion of doing off with Mr. Peabody, the family chicken.
Mr. Peabody was, technically, a Miss, but just try to convince a set of four-year olds to change a name. Little minds can be the most determined. And once they become a set of five-year olds and continue to seven-year olds...old habits die harder than a smugly vengeful red hen.
From the moment Mrs. Mcrady stole Mr. Peabody's first egg, enmity flourished. Unlike other chickens who drop their eggs thither and yon with no more thought than molting, Mr. Peabody took a certain pride in ownership. The eggs would never hatch - there being no rooster to coax things together - but that did not matter. Those eggs did NOT belong to Mrs. Mcrady!
So it was not quite the innocent mistake it seemed when Mrs. Mcrady's best shawl was f
Healthy DichotomyMy new favorite visual poem
also my definition of 'dichotomy'
My mother walking in the night field
service poodle in one hand
guiding her careful steps
Right hand holding
the skinning knife and
the fresh and bleeding heart
All the quarter-mile home.
The Moose is LooseSo this moose walks into a bar in the middle December and just before opening time. The front door had been left open for carrying boxes in, and then with customers walking up there was no point closing it in their faces. The bartender figured shoveling the back door would have prevented the whole problem, but not even customers cared what he thought.
Since he was the one plugging in the ancient jukebox by the doorway, he was the one the moose saw when it sauntered in. It looked at him with big brown eyes, like those of his dog or first girlfriend.
He stepped aside and with dainty steps it declared itself a patron. It looked around, bemusedly, like any other first-time customer without friends. There was something appropriate about the brown fuzzy animal and the stained wooden boards.
"What's that thing doing here?" His boss tried to whisper but from across the room it became more of a loud croak.
Larimara and PrincipeThe third night, after she finished her dance, he lay her down flat on the mattress and gently covered her with the sleeping bag. He lay down beside her on top of the overhang and smiled.
It was a surprisingly gentle smile.
His face was scrawny, his beard was straggly and there was a gap where a front tooth should have been, but he looked like a little boy on Christmas morning hoping against hope that somebody remembered him.
"Do you like stories, Larimara? I bet you know lots after being around so long. But you can't talk." This made him frown a little. He stroked her hair wistfully. "No new stories." He repeated this, then suddenly loomed over her. "But you can listen! I'll tell you a new story. And you'll always remember it."
He settled back down, with his right arm under her neck and his left resting on the sleeping bag above her stomach.
"There was a little bab
Captured AngelHe sat her upon the unsupported mattress and faced her cross-legged on the bare floor. The zealous reverence in his eyes made the dingy bed with its sleeping-bag blankets on par with alabaster pedestals carved with angels.
She sat still and silent, hands clasped in her lap and eyes staring into the unfocused distance. Even when he got up and arranged dresses and frills around her, tributes spread like flowers, she did not move.
He sat again to stare at her like a miner seeing the sun; hesitant, wondering, pained yet pleased. "You're my angel," he said. "I've always wanted one, so I could leave. You're going to take me out of here, and you'll never leave me, just like I'll never leave you. Right?"
He paused and then continued as if she had spoken.
"The other angels left me. I wasn't good enough. Or they weren't strong enough. Just like mother. She didn't want to leave but she di
The Crane's DaughterThe crane's daughter loved to dance. She would step lightly, fanning her sandy-white wings counterpoint to her slender legs and red-tipped crown. In the fields and upon the marshes, she stepped and stretched and danced.
In the fall the flock decided to leave for the winter grounds. But the crane's daughter swayed among the frosting grass and refused to leave.
Set after set departed, but the crane's daughter stepped through crinkling water and would not fly.
Her mother and father pleaded, red feathered crowns bent in supplication, but their daughter would not stop dancing.
The flock leader came and heard them. He told the daughter to fly. She danced.
So he plunged his beak into her heart and freed her parents to at last take wing to the winter grounds, leaving their red-tipped daughter posed flat in the summer lands.
Nature's TranquilityYou hear the shore
As waves crash onto the sand
Imagining being immersed in the blue world
Free from restraints of daily life
Gentle winds carry salt air to your nose
As you breathe in you take the essence of the ocean
The maiden is calling for you to join
Silence is the virtue here
Letting the mind wander with no ridicule
Its almost as if you don't exist
On this beach you are just one of the grains of gold
Running your hands through the sand
Rubbing them between your fingers
Letting it all fall back down to be collected once again
Peace and serenity
Nothing in between
Light cradles you in its arms
Bathes you in heat
As the love is felt between you and the illuminated one
The perfect reality, the perfect escape.
Drops of WaterThousands fall upon a field
Saturating the surface it's on
It's as unpredictable as it is mysterious
Raging one second and dying the next
It has friends join in it's company
A loud mouth
And a bright star
Each adding it's own flair to the concoction
As time goes on the size changes from small to large
Pounding into any surface even it's very own
Birthed from the sun and raised by the mist above
It returns to it's embryonic form only to be reborn again
Like a phoenix from the ashes
Delicate and powerful it does a beautiful job of combining both
While still being the beauty it is
Conforming to anything and everything it goes through
Letting nothing stand in it's path
Obstacles will dissolve into the one thing it's trying to hold back
Truly something to cherish and respect
It is so vital to us we don't even give it a second thought
The almighty power circulates around us everyday
Waiting to be birthed into the world again
All it needs is a little push from the radiating light above
a mother's love is boundlessi sat outside and i heard the crickets chirp
i sat outside and smoked a cigarette and listened to the sounds of space, the whir of neptune's rings in my ears
i sat outside and thought that if i died nothing would matter and that the world is pseudoscience and the stars are dying just as we are, every time someone dies a star does too and when they are forgotten the stars light stops reaching us
what if the trees know who we are and they are afraid of us
what if they hate us, senseless killers and energy consumers
what if the earth is living and we are the maggots gnawing away at her skin and her insides and sometimes she tries to stop us with hurricanes and tidal waves and sometimes she just lets us be because she's come to love us. like stockholm syndrome
what if that's what karma is
she sees us hurt each other and disciplines us like the mother she is
she wants us to love but we do not love
father space cradles her in his arms because she cries, she paved the way for us to live when
Once before...Once before
This planet was blue and green
But now I only see
Remains and memories-
Of a long forgotten evergreen.
Disappointed I walk between
No one in sight
But only greed
Where did the old Love
And smile go?
This planet was blue and green
Now even the skies ceased to shade-
Now even the Sun turned its back-
Yet we ask
Why should we care
If others feel this way
But we are not others
We are us
But we like it when others-
Are in control
But we like it when others-
Are the puppeteers
And we like it when others-
Tell us what to do
We like to be controlled
Yes, we like nature
Without trees, leaves
Die Weidehelle Seufzer steigen bar
wo Sehnsucht haust in Zweigen
stets ermutigende Winde
das lange Haar reicht tief hinab
wo Sternenlichter zeigen
nur Nachts den Grund
im Auge reifer Seen
von Angesicht zu Angesicht
sich Häupter traurig neigen
und Tränen schmieden Wellen
die immerfort vergehen
an Ufern blühen Weiden
sie träumen tief im Stehen
Colorful CoinsColorful Coins
by Tricia Pattinson
From Spring to Summer
Light enters life
Seen at bounty time
Every which way
Troves of treasures
My name isHello, my name is regret.
I'm the one thing that no
one lives without. Hello
my name is defeat. You look
into my eyes everyday. Hello
my name is oblivion everything,
down to your your fears up to
the one thing that keeps you alive.
cat eyes on me
as i sought a peace for myself
at three before witching hour;
smoke rings flirt with a burning mouth
then dance towards an altitude
which i do not care for
How I was BornTake a muddy handful of dreams
and mold them into bones.
Tie them together with sinews of love
taken from roots underground.
For nerves take fine spider-silk
and lay it with the muscles
which were formed out of tireless hope.
Cover them all with heartwood
letting the inside of trees
be the outside of me.
Robin's eggs make fine eyes
full of hopeful happy light blue skies
And river reeds for tangled hair.
Color my lips with cranberries
And lastly: a breath of poetry
to awaken me and serve as my soul.
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