Garden

frightened flower in the dark,

silent, cold, and trembling,

feeling every bite and bark,

each angry word, dissembling.

the glare of disapproval, shame,

searing unprotected skin,

a creature formed of guilt and pain,

that burns and burrows deep within.

fragile flower, tender child,

know the world is bright, and wide,

come out, come out, to gardens, wild,

and taste the sunlight deep inside!

Mother

Swelling, growing, life within,

Kicking thrusting hidden limb,

Tracings under rounded middle,

Madonna, smiling, just a little.

 

In potentia, the child,

Soft and sweet or bright and wild,

Rough and tumble, party dress,

Peaceful time to sit and guess.

 

Knowledge gained, the plans begin,

Dream the life so deep within,

Dream the hearts that pulse as one,

And yearn toward tomorrows sun.

For Rowan, on her Fourth birthday

“…and though she be but little, she is fierce.”  William Shakespeare, “Midsummer Nights Dream”

little wonder, precious child,

tiny princess, sweet and wild,

silly angel, rainbow pearl,

oldest sister, great big girl,

all these are the things you are,

but not all that you will, by far,

for as you grow and reach so high,

one day you will reach the sky,

and spread your branches over all,

my Rowan tree, so strong and tall.

I love you, baby-girl…

 

A River flows

mind of diamond, sharp as sin, secrets held so deep within,
not my secrets, not my war, still I wonder what they made me for.

hunted, broken, lost and found, she knows the ways to go to ground,
she steps outside her minds embrace, to hide from the eternal chase.

she speaks as one, and sometimes two, she hears them speak, the loyal crew,
without words she sees their thoughts, the yes and no, the shouldn’ts and ought’s.

I am she, and sometimes me, and sometimes someone else beside,
my brother and my new family, they don’t know where I go to hide.
I can rove through future, past, the trappings of the worlds embrace,
and hide myself in deepest dark, in endless light and lightless Space.

they chase and hound her, hands of blue, but with her, come her family/crew,
daring both the dark and light, to keep her from their evil sight.

they chase her for the gift they gave, the torment locked so deep inside,
but safe now in the ships soft womb, she knows full well the winning side.
the captain brave, so strong and tall, her brother with his quick sure hands,
who left his life to give her hers, although he seldom understands.

the pilot with his ready laugh, who keeps the ship so straight and true,
the warrior woman, dark and tall, the lovely lady, heart of the crew,
the fixer, sweet as apple pie, the shepherd with his own dark past,
the mercenary, tough and gruff. among them, she belongs, at last.

Wings

why am I still swimming? why do I stay in this stagnant pool,
this stinking morass of blood and bone and soul?
is it because I wish it so? I who once so boldly owned the sky?
Est-ce que…it is because…I have grown old, and can no longer fly.

once were my wings of silk and satin made,
the pearly hues of heaven in their shade.
now they are torn and ripped and ragged things,
I drown in their embrace, my salt tears sting.

no longer can I do more than glimpse the sky so far above,
a bit of cloud, a hint of blue, a memory of long forgotten love.
once begotten love, long gone rotten love, love that was my all…until I found it,
until I felt the work and pain, the desperate loss, the many sharpened edges which surround it.

once were my wings of silk and satin made,
the pearly hues of heaven in their shade.
now they are torn and ripped and ragged things,
I drown in their embrace, my salt tears sting.

the sky is gone, I still swim on, despite my raddled hearts most fervent wish,
I circle the eternal drain, consuming only tasteless pain, sorrow in a cracked ceramic dish.
seasoned with guilt, served by my own hand, a VIP in a restaurant of one,
the body survives, worse, it dares to thrive, a rotting corpse beneath the poisonous sun.

once were my wings of silk and satin made,
the pearly hues of heaven in their shade.
now they are torn and ripped and ragged things,
I drown in their embrace, my salt tears sting.

will you follow me down, will you watch as I drown,
will you witness the wreckage of what once was fine?
in the depths of the well, this secret I tell…
I drown in the stinking sewer of my own mind.

Amber

eyes of amber pull me in, with crooked nose and wicked grin,
small and slender, sleek and fair, coffee skin and midnight hair,
fingers quick to pull and tease, but quicker still to pet and please,
running wild through moonlit night, eyes alert and glowing bright,
ears uplifted, tail erect, my guardian that I protect,
beneath the stars, with yipping bay, we sing the moon and call the day,
then curl in close in hidden den, until the sun is gone again.

Mistake

the wheel of fortune spins and reels,
the stuff of dreams it costs to play,
no one misses what it steals,
until that one memorable day.

the day that dreamstuff turns to smoke,
and vanishes into thin air,
they laugh about it, even joke,
but soon enough, comes the despair.

for not a dream can they sustain,
imagination turns to clay,
a previously unknown pain,
that sits upon them, day by day.

it whispers chill into their ears,
and freezes hard the loving heart,
it causes disregard of tears,
till finally, they stand apart.

oh, wealth aplenty they may gain,
power, playthings and much more,
but nothing satisfies the pain,
life simply an unending chore.

until their deathbed, old and gray,
where waits for them the final breath,
forgotten music starts to play,
as the wheel spins once…and comes up “Death”.

the wheel of fortune spins and reels,
the stuff of dreams it costs to play,
no one misses what it steals,
until that one memorable day.

Love Notes

I thought “I love you” meant forever…not until.

She could never forgive him for what he didn’t say.

A Door…A Wall…or A Window.  In the end, which will you have been?

Masks like Bartholomews Hats…but in the end, was there anything there at all?

Love is a meal best eaten with chopsticks, not spoons.

New love is bells and whistles…settled love is silence over tea.  

Beware how far you rise in that first dance…the farther you go, the farther it is to fall.

When you throw your heart to a strange dog, don’t be surprised if it comes back mangled

And last but far from least, beware of flying babies with bows and arrows.  If you -must- get shot, try to take it in the head.

Cards

Pasteboard prophets,
painted seers,
predictors of laughter
and journeys and tears,
tell me what you
see in my eyes,
mysteries held behind
your mystic guise,
a tall dark stranger,
riches or fate,
tell me now, wise ones,
will I come too late?
will I forever be
one step behind,
tied to the doubt
within my own mind?
sadness or fortune,
love, loss and more,
are waiting for me
behind that cloth door,
do I dare enter,
or will I remain
forever a stranger
to that magic plain?

I promise

what did i do, what did i say,
what can i fix to make it ok?
i want to do better, i swear that i’ll try,
i won’t act too crazy, i won’t tell a lie,
i’ll do all my homework, every last bit,
so there’s no need to yell, and no need to hit,
i’m sorry i’m clumsy and lazy and loud,
i’m sorry i’m naughty and evil and proud,
i won’t think i’m smart, and i won’t act too dumb,
whenever you call me I’ll be sure to come,
i won’t get too dirty, i’ll wash my own clothes,
i’ll take my own bath and wipe my own nose,
i’ll wash all the dishes, and make you some tea,
i promise i love you…please, mommy, love me!