After Many Anniversaries

I have no need for mirrors
or overly affective words.
Aging is reality.
I need not be reminded
of it stealing time
elasticity and
dew-fresh skin.

But you, my love,
wrap me as if in gold,
caress my heart.
You hold my hand
and walk with me,
as if we are young love
now as then.

Gustav_Klimt_016

Wrapping up our dVerse 7th anniversary week, Frank asks us to write a septet. It can be a single 7-line stanza or a poem with two or more 7-line stanzas. Image is one of my favorite Gustav Klimt works, The Kiss (from Wikipedia Commons). 

Scattergory Me . . .

. . . solitudinous people person
purposely pollyannish
collector of dear days
one man woman
circle of love rippled wide.

Color me
a waving turning sunflower
old-fashioned holly hock
dancing daffodil
never lily of the valley down.

Find me next season
on your darkest nights.
I shall be the newest star
east of that famous north one
or west . . .

you’ll find me
because you’ll understand,
even in death
my geography skills
will still be severely lacking

. . . but I promise,
I’ll be there.

hand-2586638_1920

Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where Amaya reminds us that last Thursday was the 199th anniversary of Walt Whitman’s birth. She asks us to write a poem somewhat in the spirit of Whitman’s Song of Myself….something personal as in an ad to someone who knows us well…to meet us perhaps, at a later date. I should add, after rereading my poem here, I am healthy, well, happy and expect to live for many many more years! 

Love Despoiled

Oh, Henry! You’ve caught me
be-twix and be-tween.
Passion whet by champagne,
and Kit Kat Club ambience.
Desire kindled by kindness.
Your patience to consummate
pledge your troth, to wed
and only then to bed.

Until my evening gown mishap.
Bared breast revealed,
milky way to pale mounds
meant to share in nuptial bliss.
When moonlight shafts
soften look of aging skin,
light passion’s fire,
scorch through satin linens.

But shocked I am.
Your snickers, chuckles,
leering eyes, pupils wide.
Your lust apparent, unleashed.
Tongue swiftly swipes your lips
sweat beads drip down furrowed brow.
You, most definitely,
are not my Mr. Good Bar.

Fifth Avenue class and demeanor
slipped away as if a mask.
I see you now, the real you.
As far out of possibilities
as aliens from planet Mars.
Bar or not, I sand beside this stool,
proud woman, intelligent,
genteel and steeled.

Beware sir, I am not
a pay day or pay by night
loose female, giving on demand.
I am not that kind.
I thought you were different.
And so I leave you sir,
clutching cloth to breast
virture intact.

Self respect intact,
yesterday, today,
and through many morrows.
Until some partner shall appear,
unconditional love apparent.
And we shall reveal to one another
our feelings, wishes, and regrets.
Our every view into our very souls.

2011_05_11_11_23_14

I’m hosting Tuesday Poetics at dVerse today, the virtual pub for poets, and we’re brand name noodling! I’ve given folks three categories: candy bars, cereals, and perfumes. I’ve listed at least sixteen products in each category. Folks are to choose ONE category, and write a poem that includes at least TWO of the product names within that category. . . using them as just words in the poem. 

I’ve chosen to used the candy bar list: Oh, Henry!, Chuckles, Kit-Kat, Snickers, Milky Way, Mr. Goodbar, Mars Bar, 5th Avenue, Pay Day, Mounds, Twix, Charleston Chew, Butterfinger, Baby Ruth, Krackle, and 3 Muskateers. I used the first 11 in this poem.

AND HERE’s MY POST ON THE CEREAL LIST!

Midnight Lovers

Lips pressed to lips
hips to hips divinely so,
curtains flung wide.

Clouds pressed to moon,
beams flicker upon their bed.
Passion illuminated,
bodies melding move
like strobe light scene.

Muddled love,
pressed thru paroxysm
finally splays itself.
Breathing deeply,
hands clasped,
they sleep.

illustration-1948905_1920

It’s Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. De is hosting and asks us to include the word “muddle” in our quadrille (poem of exactly 44 words, sans title). From the kitchen.com “Many warm weather cocktails us fresh ingredients such as herbs and fruit, and often muddling is reuired. To muddle means to press the ingredients agains the side of the glass. Muddling helps to release the flavors of the fresh ingredients so they bind with the alcohol.”

For George

Travelers
in our speck of time.
Daily steps
in mnemonic state.
Treks by car
and plane
and train
to wander
in some different space.

The longest path
shadows behind us.
Still we seek the sun
match our steps
slower stride
hand clasping hand.

Lessons learned
span cities large
cities small.
One constant
across them all.
You have always been
my home.

 

With Apologies to Pablo Neruda

Tus Manos (Part I)                          Your Image (Part I)

Cuando tus manos salen,               Your image curls within my being,
armor, hacia las mias,                    love, unyielding tenant,
que me traen volando?                   will you test my volition?
Por que se detuvieron                     Why is there denial
en mi boca, de pronto,                    as if my time is unhurried,
por que las reconozco                    why is this revealing
como si entonces, antes,                how essential you are to me,
las hubriero tocado,                       like a harbor to the sails,
como si antes de ser                       how is this so hard
hubieran recorrido                        harboring releasing
mi frente mi centura?                    my feelings, my confession?

Pablo-Picasso-Sleeping-woman-Meditation-

This was the most difficult prompt I’ve ever responded to! Day 4 of NaPoWriMo: choose a poem in another language; do not look at the translation. Also choose a photograph (this is a photo of Pablo Picasso’s Meditation). Now, “translate” the foreign language poem into a poem applicable to your photo. Use the “look and the feel” of the words in the original poem but do not look up a translation of the words. I have no idea what Neruda’s original poem says…….so as the title of my post says, “With Apologies to Pablo Neruda”. His words are on the left; mine are on the right. Also posting for dVerse Open Link Night.

Revelation

Bermuda mesmerizes.
Breeze ruffles tall grass,
erases footsteps.

Timeworn calcarenites protrude,
seaside sentinels
revealed in low tide glory.

I stand gazing.
And somehow
in this raw natural place,

understanding dawns.
You are with me,
my forever love.

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where today it’s OLN….Open Link Night. Post any one poem of your choice. Yes, we are in Bermuda, until April 6th. Photos from Tobacco Bay, one of our favorite places here, about a 10 minute walk from our rental in St. George. Bermuda never disappoints!

Happiness is . . .

when you marry your best friend
knowing he is the love of your life. . .

when your heart expands
as your family does the same. . .

when your love is so strong
that together, you could travel

to the end of the earth
and back . . .

and you do.

Photo from Antarctica. Days before we rounded Cape Horn and ferried to the last light house on the earth. An amazing journey – through the last almost 48 years with this man . . . and to the end of the earth!

Velveteen Love

Magic is very strange and wonderful.
The moon had risen,
the fronds of the bracken
shone like frosted silver.

The windows stood wide open.
The loveliest fairy
went swooping about like a great wind
amongst the flowers and the butterflies.

At Last! At Last!
When all the house was silent,
love stirred.
To be loved
forever and ever.

woman-2124050_1920

Victoria is tending bar at dVerse today, the virtual pub for poets. She asks us to do some Erasure Poetry. A new form for me. We choose a book or text and by “erasing words” from it (or an alternative way to say it is by choosing words from it), make up a poem of our own. We may only use words as they appear in the book/text. We cannot add any of our own words.  Each line in Velveteen Love is an exact phrase from Margery Williams The Velveteen Rabbit. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!