Don't ask me

Don’t ask me where it is I am going
Tonight. Some things go best without knowing
Every detail. I am a small shell
Whispering the waves, wishing I could tell
You who I am. The surf song is calling

Me inexorably, its tide writing
My name on some distant shore. This gnawing
Sense of being “not-from-here” I know so well.
     Don’t ask me

How, but it has always been there, lying
Nautilus-curled within my stumbling
Soul. I want to love this red land as well
As you do, but I cannot fall under its spell.
Someday I’ll say, but for now I’m begging,
     Don’t ask me.

Rules

A honeymoon poem, to share with friends over at the marvelous dVerse community.

This house is smaller than the brochure made
It look. There is barely room for our bags
In the front hall as we sign the guestbook.

Breakfast is between eight and eight thirty
We are informed, and would we prefer
A fry-up or just the continental?

Our hostess has a typewriter. The walls
Are filled with neat signs telling us things like
When we may use the bathroom (no long baths)

And that the lounge is open after six
For us to watch the TV or peruse
The two shelves of Mills and Boone romances.

But this is our first night, and thus we have
A romance of our own to consummate.
Pinned above our bed is a note that reads:

Guests are requested not to talk after
Ten p.m. We obey, shyly, taking
Our time, trying not to break any rules.

Walking

I

Love

Walking

On the sand

Watching the water

Extend to the blue horizon,

The awesome sense of infinite possibility

That descends when I am barefoot

Tracing a fresh path

As the waves

Wash my

Steps
New

Late afternoon in my room

Why is it so sensual
To wash a lover’s hair?

Is it the scent of blossoms
Borne away on fingertips,
Or the gentle lapping of
Small waves at the water’s edge?

Is it the deep stillness that
Descends slowly on the heart,
Or the final yielding
Of control, the gift of trust?

Perhaps it is all of these
But this much I remember:

She bowed her head at the sink,
Letting the warm water run
And when she looked back at me
I knew I could not refuse.


Posted for the weekly Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub.

You took a risk

(a monchielle)

You took a risk last night
Standing up there alone
Where you slowly allowed
Your pure voice to strip bare
Defenseless to the crowd.

You took a risk last night
Wearing that shining dress
That caught each colored glint.
You could not help but shine
In that dim firmament.

You took a risk last night
Turning your face to us
As your soul fell apart.
You became translucent
Singing your broken heart.

You took a risk last night
And we loved you the more
For letting us hold you
Even for a moment
As a lover would do.

Beautiful women make me nervous

It was a great pickup line, if I say so myself:

     What a fabulous feeling!
     You’re too lovely for my eyesight.
     But tonight, I’d say my love is big enough to handle it.

Unfortunately, I got flustered:

     My, my, I say! What a lovely sight.
     Your fabulous feeling butt is big enough for two.
     I’d love to handle it tonight.

Damn.

Laundry day

A simple laundry-day sonnet, to share with friends over at the wonderful dVerse community.  Welcome, and enjoy!

A line of laundry baskets snakes around
The living room, as if about to shed
Its skin of cotton blends, in sleek casts found
By herpetologists beneath the bed.
Some days this house is full of mystery,
The mundane rendered beautiful, each small
Activity transformed for eyes that see
But do not judge too rapidly. I call
This attitude a discipline of grace,
Embracing imperfection with a smile
That lets me love the serpents I must face
In every daily task. For all the while
I long for past success, I must confess
There’s much to learn in cleaning up a mess.

Thank you for calling

What pain I endure every time that I say,
“We apologize unreservedly:
Thank you so much for calling; have a nice day.”

Your son cut his hand when he started to play
With the chainsaw you bought? Well, duh! You see
What pain I endure every time that I say

We’re sorry to losers like you, sharks who prey
On flesh like lawyers? When I gush brightly,
“Thank you so much for calling; have a nice day,”

What I mean is, “Get lost, you leech-head, and stay
Out of my way or I’ll show you clearly
What pain I endure!” Every time that I say

How I feel to my boss, he turns me away
With, “The customer’s right, just make them happy.
Thank you so much for calling; have a nice day!”

Well, he’s wrong – there’s no way we should have to pay
For your stupidity. It’s killing me
What pain I endure every time that I say,
“Thank you so much for calling; have a nice day.”

Passion wagon

(Hey, the lockout is over - here's a villanelle for the NFL - for friends over at dVerse, a great site to check out if you haven't already.)

You wonder what it is I’m thinking of
As we are locking lips here in the car?
I have to say my heart is filled with love

For all creation – the bee, the wood dove
And giant men in spandex near and far.
You wonder what it is I’m thinking of

As you fumble with the seatbelt and shove
Me backwards, inflicting the biggest scar
I have? To say my heart is filled with love

For you is true, but it is not enough.
You know how my libido seems sub-par?
You wonder what it is? I’m thinking of

Owners and players standing hand in glove
Proclaiming peace like buddies in a bar.
I have to say my heart is filled with love

For you, but mostly ‘cause you’re splayed above
Me like you caught a touchdown from Bart Starr.
You wonder what it is I’m thinking of?
I have to say, my heart is filled with love.

The world without coffee

(a rather loosely-informed sestina on my second-favourite vice)

According to my newspaper the time
Of greatest flowering in European cultural life
Coincided with the advent of the coffee
House in cities like Vienna. Poets lost love,
Philosophers thought deeply, Shrinks shrank, and great new
Symphonies soared above the pervading creative buzz.

Surely it was not always so. The buzz
More generally heard before that time
Was the gentle snore of citizens tanked up on new
Wine or local ale. Such widespread alcohol slowed life
To a crawl beyond mid-morning, for who does not love
To lie down when half drunk anyway? Imagine, then, coffee,

On its introduction from the east. A single cup of coffee
Could rouse a person with its distinctive buzz
To new heights of creativity. Quite soon, the love
Affair with this dark stranger from the shores that time
Forgot had spread from cup to saucer, transforming life
For the noveau-jazzed across the continent. The New

World, similarly, benefitted from the new
Caffeinated order. The Thirteen Colonies made coffee
A staple to accompany the westward spread of white-faced life
Swarming native land like a great cloud of queenless bees, their buzz
Stinging like a pickaxe blow in railroads and then in factories, where time
Triumphed over human scale, and simple love

Disintegrated into commerce. The love
Of money, wide-eyed, unblinking, brought a new
And harsh reality to bear – a far cry from the time
When agriculture and its rhythms reigned. Now coffee
Represented all that served to amplify avarice, that buzz-
Cut every wayward tree, and scythed through individual life.

It seems there is a rule in life
That we must pay the price for all we love,
And surely we have paid in full for the buzz
First tasted many centuries ago. Those pioneers knew
Not what they were playing with, and their coffee
Dalliance has robbed us all of a simpler time.

But then again, with the buzz of life I get each time I grab a venti toffee nut caramel white mocha frappuccino double blended with no whip cream and extra caramel drizzle, my love for this beautiful drug is brewed anew – The world would be so much less poetic without coffee.