RSS Feed

Monthly Archives: March 2012

“Arriving Home”

arms and hands reach high
naked feet dance funny jigs
screams ring out: “Daddy!”

written for Sensational Haiku Wednesday (theme: excitement)

Advertisements

“Still Standing”

 
Feeling that tingle again, she shifted her feet—
feet that screamed for her to flee, running fast from
whomever, whatever was watching.
 
But acorns don’t choose where they fall, and
trees spring up growing tall. No matter how
chaotic their branches bend, they simply stand.
 
Still.
 
So she stood, gingerly
twirling too-short-cropped-hair,
eight inches cut off, no longer there.
 
Ponytail gone; no string to hang on.
Leaves loudly scraped pavement,
driven by winds that could not move this
Little Red Riding Hood, who simply stood.
 
Still.
 
 
written for Magpie Tales #108, Monday Melting #8, Real Toads “Open-Link Monday,” and dverse poets “Open-Link Night”
 
image by Uzengia Aleksander Nedic

Oh No You Didn’t!

So you had an idea that I kind of liked;
Can’t remember why now, but I really was psyched.
“Let’s get married ‘fore the end of the century!
And give up your sports; can’t risk an injury.” 

“Two become one.”
Signed. Sealed. Done!
And while it was still ’99,
you showed yours and I showed mine.
 
“Two become one.” Could we have known what it means?
In-over-heads, newlyweds, barely out of our teens.
Love. Honor. Cherish. It would have been so awesome.
Had you only liked me and your mother-in-law some.
 
“Two become one.” Let’s get started!
Wedded bliss ruined? Just ’cause I farted?
I was such a good spouse, as everyone knew.
I’d have been completely selfless—had it not been for you!
 
So you had an idea that I (secretly) approved of;
let’s move on with our lives, find us some new loves.
Turned math upside down—that was so you!
Hired lawyers and judges, turned one into two.
 
 
 
written for Poetics “1999”

“Insomnia”

 
Sleep was my mistress; how I loved her embrace.
She held me all night, made me feel so grand.
But lately, she makes excuses, won’t come by my place—
Sleep was my mistress; how I loved her embrace.
 
Tonight she refuses to meet face-to-face;
at this point I’d settle for a one-night-stand.
 
Sleep was my mistress; how I loved her embrace.
She held me all night, made me feel so grand.
 
 
 
This triolet was written for dverse poets “Form for All

“Across the Street”

 
 
Woman unknown, I
saw you cry for the man you
love. I know plenty.
 

Looking at the Flip Side of Love

Looking at the Flip Side of Love.

If you click on the link above you will find a bit of explanation about this thought-provoking piece written by Linda Krushchke.

Hate Is . . .

Hate is impatient,
toe tapping, eye-rolling,
in a hurry for instant gratification

Hate is mean,
treating others unkindly,
bullying, and insulting

Hate is envious,
not happy for others’ prosperity,
wanting what others have,
and for them not to have it

Hate is boastful,
puffed up, pointing to self-accomplishments,
not recognizing contributions of others

Hate is not humble,
but is arrogant, filled with hubris
proudly thinking oneself better than all,
pretentious and vain, always vain

Hate is rude,
abusive and insulting, vulgar,
disrespectful, and never caring for others

Hate is self-seeking,
it’s-all-about-me attitude,
selfish and egotistical, self-important

Hate is easily angered,
irritated by the slightest mistake,
hot-headed, unwilling to forgive

Hate keeps a record of wrongs,
every little sin catalogued and indexed,
ready as part of its arsenal of hostility

Hate delights in evil,
revels in rebelling against authority,
is pleased to go its own way

Hate despises truth,
closes its ears to teaching,
refuses instruction and correction

Hate attacks,
harms loved ones and strangers alike,
injures all in its way without care

Hate distrusts,
lacks faith in God or anything,
doubts there is anything good

Hate despairs,
has no hope for a future,
lives in misery and sorrow

Hate gives up,
at the smallest obstacle it gives in,
is defeated by the tiniest tribulation

Hate never wins

Written by: Linda Kruschke

“Turn the Page”

Signs all around;
change is upon us.

The flower—freshly picked—
beauty pressed upon beauty.
Barren trees,
soon to be cloaked with lively leaves,
jealously watch
as lucky clovers brilliantly bloom—
dancing at your feet.

You take it all in, excited
at the thought of new days and new seasons,
ready to join in with a spicy two-step.
And me?
I lean into your shoulder, content.
Spring spores give rise to more than flora;
hope springs eternal. At least today.

I read the signs;
change is upon us.