just paisley….

ky marina is a layin’
at the foot of the bed
her old bones
on the cool tile floor
moo moo’s outside
somewhere’s
a layin’ in the shade
and the breeze
is a blowin’ in,,
my open front door

some wicked
old monarch is
a prissin’ it up
in some movie
playin’ on the tv
as i engage myself
in deep,, meaningful
conversation
about my fa-vor-ite
subject, me..

as much as i
would like to think
that i,, got way
more important
things to do
the truth of the matter
is that i am
totally content
just settin’ here
and thinkin’ like i do

so if your a callin’
i probably won’t
be answerin’
and if your mailin’
chances are
i won’t respond
as i’m just a sittin’ here
waitin’,, ever so
contentedly,
on the taxi
come to take me
to the great beyond..

photo:

http://fc02.deviantart.com/fs8/i/2005/289/e/3/

Hey_Taxi____GOOMV____by_infernall.jpg

photo of me on my parents wedding day, april 6, 1963

There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good,
She was very good indeed,
But when she was bad she was horrid.

                                 by: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

how was i to know
i would so literally
become the “little girl”
in longfellow’s poem

and had i known-
what,, if anything
would i have done
differently??

to that-
i still answer
“i just don’t know…”

this was inspired, by a poem written by linda, entitled the game ,, and posted on the new collaborative site, your poems. your stories….

someone asked
me today, what i
would do if i knew
i had only a short time
left to live..
and with a leap of joy
my heart answered
“exactly what i am doing..”

pouring out
my heart
and my head
and my soul…
writing down
the emotions
the moments
and the people
that so deserve to be
the reminiscent icing
on a life,
i was only too fortunate
to have lived..

a life that
has taken me places
most people
will never go.
a life that has
allowed me
to live out my every
dream, whim, and desire,
and left me
breathlessly fulfilled,,
and ready to move on…

i am so ready
to die.. not because
i am unhappy
or morose
or depressed
i am just done here…
i have had a wonderful life..

i would just like
to be released before
my most treasured memories
have been made to
linger too long,
and i am forced
to watch,, as they fade-
and slip behind the veil
of old age…

photo:

http://volentivince.deviantart.com/art/Not-ready-to-die-65617982

for those of you that do not frequent anna’s blog, free poems on a regular basis,, (and shame on you,, you know who you are……) i want to let you know that she has added a new duet of blogs that i am really in favor of supporting..

first of all,, and my favorite,, is your poems. your stories. it is a collaborative project on which we,, authors and poets alike can actually post our work (prose and/or poetry) directly to the blog,, thus making our work available to a larger audience,, and supporting the writer/poet community here on the web…

so if you are interested in a new venue for some of your work,, i would suggest you stop on over and have a read,, and feel free to register with the site,, and add your work.. (and yes, of course you can link to your own blog!!!) wouldn’t it be wonderful,, if we could combine our audiences??? what a readership we could boast then!!!!

i have offered up my first piece for publication over there,, entitled, as the dust swirled,, and would really appreciate it if you clicked thru to have a read…

please feel free to contact anna either by email at anna (at) poempoempoem.com,, or thru a comment on either of her blogs if you need further information….

secondly,, its sister blog, poem poem poem is a poets resource blog.. it offers information such as:

1. an up to date listing of the working online poets.
2. a resource for finding “free poetry”. both individual poems and books of poetry
3. a direct link to purchase published works of poetry.
4. a link providing publisher information, for both in print and internet publications.
5. as well as an huge listing of poetry workshops available,, on a variety of subjects.

i have had the honor today of publishing one of anna’s poems, the mermaid poem over on the ink pot,, so if you would enjoy seeing a sample of her excellent work,, you can drop on over and have a read….

the site is brand spanking new,, and is still in its infancy,, so your contributions, comments, and patience would be greatly appreciated…i just cannot help but feel it has the potential to be a really great place to bring together our creative efforts…

the feed options for both poem poem poem and your poems. your stories. are available in the side bar, for those of you that would like to keep an eye on it’s progress,, and see if it appeals to you….

thank you in advance for your participation…

photo:

http://www.reproarte.com/picture/Carl_Spitzweg/

The+poor+Poet+/10591.html

this weekend, jane’s inspirations put this picture up as the prompt,, and this is what it said to me…..

creepy girl with skull by Faythalie

now i lay me down to sleep
my daddy’s skull i always keep
beside me on a little chair
remembering when he sat there…

and how he touched me when he did.
when i was just a little kid
too young to know, it wasn’t right
too small, to put up a big fight

he told me it would be alright
when he touched me, in the dark of night
but i was smarter, than he thought
and could not wait, till he got caught

i poisoned him with powder that
had killed the mice and then the cat
i fed it to him every day
and waited for him to go away

i was right,, it didn’t take long
and quickly he was too far gone
to stave it off,, to save himself
i killed him dead.. all by my self…

amen…

as the result of a little exercise we did earlier this month on poefusion,, i am mesmerised by this short sweet form of poetry.. it is a mimic of Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird by Wallace Stevens

the subject was suggested on by linda,, in her piece entitled, These are the Things Women Know About Love

these are the ten things (this) woman knows about love:

I.

they say there is a thin line between love and hate,, but what they don’t tell you,, is the name of that line is expectation.

II.

it is indeed possible to love more than one person over the course of a lifetime,, but in the end,, there can always be,, only one true love…

III.

when the flames of passion have been reduced to smoldering embers,, the smoke of indifference is very likely to asphyxiate you.

IV.

you can spend eternity searching for unconditional love,, but you will not find it,, until you get a dog….

V.

whereas sex may not always be indicative of love,, a lack of it is almost always indicative of marriage.

VI.

just as faith, without works is dead,, so love without sex, is family…

VII.

the world is filled with people searching for love,, but most of them are really only looking for validation.

VIII.

if i thought for one moment you could love me for who i really am,, i would probably lose all respect for you.

XI.

think of love as a cocktail,, even a blend of the finest ingredients, will more often than not,, end up on the rocks…

X.

love is like the wind,, try as you might,, you cannot harness it,, and if you do,, the chances are very good it will never blow you again……

photo:

http://azzriel666.deviantart.com/art/Love-32586824

courtesy of, mad kane’s humor blog,, and a line from leonard cohen via PWB

unmistakable
his scent overpowered her,,
like a dog in heat

i’ve got two dogs,, a red and a rott
they are really all the family i’ve got
but i wouldn’t trade ‘em in
for some human next of kin
cuz they love me like humans can not..

photo:

http://studiozus.deviantart.com/art/Doggy-Style-37697059

yet another piece inspired by the awesome artwork of rick mobbs… i have incorporated the words from friday five at poefusion into this tale….. and seeing as how sunday scribblings prompt this week is family,, i guess i will submit it there as well…..

loopy heart by: rick mobbs

“it won’t be long,, my dear one
till you can sleep every day in the sun
we will settle you down
in your own plot of ground
go,, there’s no more work to be done….”

she was born in the town of gravelines
on the northern coast of france
and it was there she learned
how a pigeon flew
and to count on an abacus

didn’t take her long to figure out
two rabbits would soon become ten
and the longings of a young girls heart
could take her far from home
and never bring her back again

with yet another war on the horizon
they said good bye to their home
and sailed away
to what?? no one knew,,
off to america indeed they did roam

they had bid adieu to the tovarich
the nazi’s and the ss
and with in the first year they said hello
to my father,, the first son
of four, with which they were blessed

too soon the boys grew tall and strong
and each one took a wife
when grandfather went off
to be with god
nanna’s grandchildren became her life

she taught us life,, from the kitchen table
oft’ times a hint of whiskey on her breath
as she recounted her life
one lesson at a time
i never dreamed,, she would teach me death

yet, as i sit here now,, at her bedside
her frail, cool hand in mine
i whisper to her
all the lessons i learned
from the young girl, who grew up in gravelines

“it wont be long,, my dear one
till you can sleep every day in the sun
we will settle you down
in your own plot of ground
go,, there’s no more work to be done….”

the words “teach me death” i found in a post entitled so this is recovery, you claim (unfinished business) also by rick mobbs

the inspiration here can be credited once again to michelle at poefusion

bring me the sunset in a cup*
make it strong,,
and black,,
and bitter
as the sunshine today
could not burn away
the black cloud
that’s enveloped my soul

bring me the sunset in a cup*
or a tumbler,,
a mug,,
or a snifter
as i can’t decide
if i am born again,
or i’ve died
and i’m afraid
to find out the answer

bring me the sunset in a cup*
then pour it slowly
in the sink,,
on the counter,,
or the floor
and as i clean it up-
this sunset in a cup,,
may it’s sweet
wash away all my bitter…

*this line is from emily dickenson’s Bring me the sunset in a cup

photo:

http://balchphoto.deviantart.com/art/Dusk-46188823

this one was inspired by a line i found in a poem called counting tills, by noah the great….. that line was “with the stench of alcohol mating.”

there he stood, hands over head
in the doorway
holding himself upright
fingers clenched tight
on the jamb
he was wearing his head
for a necklace
more baby right now,,
than a man…

it had to have been
at least three thirty
and bars had all
closed long ago
with a tilt of his head
and that little boy smile
he made sure
i wouldn’t ask him to go…

we were sepreated now
he no longer lived here
but he knew that
i was powerless
to resist
the stench of
alcohol mating
that brought him home
in weak moments
like this….

photo:

http://kimballgray.deviantart.com/art/The-Bed-79922484