remembrance
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Weave me a spellOf titan tresses and heaving bosoms,Of muscle laden bad boys with tender souls Bewitch me for awhileBetwixt misunderstandings ridiculousAnd entanglements easily untied Swaddled in shopworn cliches and shabby tropesEmbrace my tattered mind inside paperback coversEnchant me into happily ever after For a while
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Unraveled my day spills before meIn a long tangled cordMy needle slips down and underUp and throughPulling a loop of sleep Fingers flowRocked by rhythmic clicksThe cat is a crescent moon at my feetAs my needles grow heavy Rows and rows grow across my lapStitching myself togetherThrough the long night
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Bees offer honey far more than stings.Ginger green teaHot and bitingComfort to my raw throatI sip.Warmth pools in my chilled chestMy mug is not as heavy as I feelI’m no bee butI work and serveI hurt and stingI feed and provideI heal to be hurt againIn a tight frenetic circleIn a relentless loop I empty
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Doors slide open Rows of near empty shelvesForlorn packages sit vigil haphazard Bewildered and resignedMasked shoppers pushing desperate carts Round and roundIn an exhausted loop of higher prices and low expectations Milk egg and bread weatherHisses across the parking lot Another storm; another variantI raise my hood, square my shoulders Well-stocked but emptyReplenished and exhausted
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Regina, my name, is Latin for queenRelated to regal, regent, and regency. IRequested from my husband suggestions for my verse.“Red blood, red rum, red velvet lips,” he mused.“Reaction, reagent, retardant, reverse, Ricky Ricardo!”Rapid fire R wordsRolled from his brainRoiled from his mouthRidiculous R wordsReverberated and ricocheted inside my car as I drove.“Really,” I said laughing.
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There was a relief in feeling the storm’s approachA release of pressureThe dropping of the other shoe There was a relief in feeling the storm’s approachWith the smell of rain heavyAs the slam of a door, a suitcase, the trunk door There was a relief in feeling the storm’s approachThose first lazy drops of rain
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New homeThis lifeless sphereMade ours by blood, sweat, willOur children will range across the starsEndless “Today’s writing prompt was to write an American Cinquain, a five line poem with the syllable structure 2-4-6-8-2, on connections. I suck at poems. My mind is walking through my last piece, New Sheriff in Town. This poem written by
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Heavy unbearably heavy Weighing down your limbs Pressing down your lids Laying across your chest When you know you must to get up and do all the things that need to be done Light incredibly light Light as a sun faded photograph Light enough to slip into a pocket and be carried everywhere Light as
circular staircase 