Love Poem

She pulls petals
off a daisy
and still has
no answers.

_____________________________________________

PAD 5 November

Waiting . . .

On edge.
A slight breeze
will topple me.
Toads in the tummy
and
acid rising.
Deep breath.
Hold it together.
And
pray.

_____________________________________________
PAD 4 November

Not a Threat

Dear Don,
Knock it off
right now!
I mean it.
Signed,
You Know Who

________________________________________________________-

PAD 3 November

Heartsore

She hid the hole in her heart
darning it
in burgundy floss
with a circular blanket stitch,
then embroidering it
with flowers and stars.
Each pierce of the needle
made her flinch
but she persevered,
patiently positioning each careful suture
until at last it was compete,
a masterpiece.

Now she carries a beautiful
impenetrable core
which still aches
with each beat.

___________________________________________

PAD 2 November

Before You Leave

Before you leave,
tell me how much you’ll miss me.
Before you leave,
give me a Denver hug.
Before you leave,
pick up the wet towel on the bathroom floor.
Before you leave,
tell me again why I can’t go.

___________________________________________

PAD 1 November

Foggy Days

Page
after
page
of spaces
coloured in tones of grey.

Sometimes
pressure
leaves the leaden wax
murky and congealed.

Others,
hastily applied,
transcend outlines
and
surrender splotchy, spiritless soot.

This world around me
is murky.
I crave the sharp-edged darkness
which accompanies
true light.

*****************************************************************
Punam is today’s host for Quadrille Monday over at dVerse.
The challenge: write a quadrille (44 word poem, not including the title) using the word darkness.

Missing

Lately

I’ve been misplacing myself.

I check pockets

but they’re empty.

Under couch cushions,

on bedside tables,

in the car.

Nothing.

I’m lost.

Panic creeps in.

Maybe no one will notice.

Then I remember:

I am found in you.

I will

never

be lost.

**************************************

Over at d’Verse, De challenges us to pen a Quadrille (a poem of exactly 44 words, not counting the title), including some literal form of the word place. Come play! 😊

Sleepless Nights

The minutes tick by

in unparalleled lines of confusion

as I lie in the dark and

count breaths,

count calls of the barred owlet,

count beats of my heart.

I envy your snores in oblivion.

It takes so much longer for reentry these days

and I see the confusion in your eyes

as you wonder

who the hell is this alien in your airspace?

I want to apologise,

to reach out and stroke those ruffled feathers,

but I don’t recognise these fingers

or trust this foreign tongue.

So I keep quiet

in the still darkness,

waiting for my heart’s beat

to slow to the rhythm

of yours.

Dry Spell

The rain comes in tantrum spurts —
blowing up a fury
then lying still.
The clouds tease,
spattering the hard earth
with a dusting of spit
before roaring with laughter.

My pen is hollow,
my well is parched.
Time to let the field lie fallow.

**************************************************

April has come and gone, and with it the crazy splashing of words across a page.
“If April showers bring May flowers” then perhaps the poems will continue to bloom.
Hmmm . . . watch this space. (LOL)

Cyparissus

The words
(supposedly for me)
which fly incessantly out of their mouths
comfort
only them.
Time heals nothing.
It changes things —
sometimes beyond recognition.

We played the odds.
I knew
but not this way —
always someone else,
not us.

And here we are —
I am —
one pair of eyes
gazing at the rising sun
over the ocean,
your voice
fading
under the waves,
my tears carried away
by the wind.

***********************************************************************

GloPoWriMo Day Thirty Prompt: Write a poem in which the speaker is identified with, or compared to, a character from myth or legend.