Archive for Poetry

Dogs with Mohawks

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 20, 2010 by 1writegirl

My love and I
With nothing better to do
One rainy winter day
Took a look at my shaggy canine
And decided he needed a trim

We started slow
With a pair of shears
Behind the ears
Under the chin

And as we trimmed
We talked as always
About whatever came to mind

And the conversation turned
To the subject of what we’d imagined,
In the glory of dewy youth,
Our lives would look like today

I thought I’d be married, I said
As I swiped at Mugsy’s tail
Be grateful you didn’t go there
He grimaced
Believe me, it’s misery ad infinitum
Compounded by devastation

I should be teaching poetry,
He mused
At some prestigious, west coast college
Off came the left side of Mugsy’s beard

With co-eds hanging on my every word
Gone was his moustache too

I expected to be a famous writer
I exclaimed with an air of whimsy
As the clippers zoomed over Mugsy’s back
And flew up under his stomach
With at least one bestseller, I added
He nodded, I know, huh? he said
Then shaking his head in a daze of wonder
Started in with the scissors in earnest

I’d have a mansion by the sea
He explained with a faraway look
With servants to do my bidding
And an agent, an editor,
Stupendous advances

Fur was flying in all directions
Frenetic buzzing filled the air

And so it went for quite some time
With every word, another cut
For every lost dream
Another lock shorn
Until at last we were out of shouldve’s
And before us quaking in forlorn regret
Stood the product of our mutual despair

There was nothing left of him to speak of
He was half the size he’d started
And the only hair remaining
Was a strip from head to toe
A Mohawk of black and white
From his forehead straight up and spiking
Down his back to the tip of his tail

We put down the scissors, dropped the shears
And swept up the pile of fur
Thinking perhaps we’d made a mistake
Gotten too carried away
Until Mugsy stood up and shook himself
Then pranced up and down the room

Showing off his brand new do

Unencumbered, with nothing to block his view
Of cats and cars, food and chew-toys
And laps to settle into

I think he likes it, I gasped in amazement
He seems to feel freer, he agreed
Go figure, we said in unison
Then sighed and settled back down
To the one thing we both can’t not do for long

The process of writing our hearts out
To the tune of the pouring rain

I dig my new Do!

Shedding

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 7, 2009 by 1writegirl

Walking
For hours
Shedding
Along the way

Old memories
Old pains
Old lies

Like diamonds
Once valued
Now
Meaningless

In the context
Of today

Left behind
On the ground

Faded sentiment
Useless trappings

Withered leaves
To scatter
In the wind

Leaving room
For
Truth

Leaving room
For
Redemption

The opening
The changing

Of a soul

Blue-collar Rorschach?

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on November 2, 2009 by 1writegirl

If they were making
A movie
He asked me

In a recent
Job interview

Who would you want
To play you?

If you could be any
Car
Any make and model

What kind of car
Would you be?

I paused for a moment
And stared at him
Wondering
What the fuck?

Then smiling
My most diplomatic
Smile
I said
Please tell me
This

If I say I want
Demi to play me
Or Charlize Theron
Or Drew Barrymore

Are you more likely
To hire me than
If I say
Maggie Smith
Or Kathy Bates?

If I say I’d like to
Be a Jag
Is that better
Than a
Volkswagen Bus?

Is a Lamborghini
Somehow more apt
Than a fifties
Pick-up truck?

I’ll admit
Your psychological
Profile questions
Throw me into
A tizzy

Cause I SO want this job

I’ve always dreamed

Of cashiering at
A mini-mart

Just a Job

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 1, 2009 by 1writegirl

Cleaning houses
Not what I saw
Myself doing

In college…
Ten years ago…
Six months ago

But the need for
Money
Is ever-present
And sometimes
You can’t be picky

It was a mobile home
2 bedroom 2 bath
Shag carpet
Greasy stove
Stained floor
Brown toilets

It had clearly
NEVER
Been cleaned

I toiled away for hours
Till everything
Sparkled and shone

No cobwebs
No dust
No grime
No spots
Splatter or
Splooge

Every muscle hurt
Every bone ached
My finger tips
Were blistered
My knees bruised
A knuckle bleeding
Mindlessly cut as I labored

Yet I still had
The front porch to do
Christ! Where the seven
Cats lived…

I’ll come back tomorrow
I whispered
And thought
If I’m still alive

I’ll finish the job
Bright and early
I didn’t realize
How long it would take

The next morning
I was there at eight
Finished up in
Two hours and ten

Alice paid me in full
Plus twenty-five tip
You did such a good job
She smiled

Pressing the money into
My hand
She said
And you came back!

As if I would leave it
Undone

I loaded my supplies
Into my car
Then headed to
Another
Smaller job

Helping Lola
Clean out her garage
And put together a bed

As I prepared to leave
She turned to me
Have you got a card?
She asked

I’ve got lots of friends
Like myself
Who could use
A hard worker
Like you

I thanked her and told her
I’d get some made
Then drove home
Thinking
If I did this often
My hands would toughen up
My muscles wouldn’t hurt
I’d be in fit shape
And my bank account…

A fast calculation said
6 houses a month
Would pay my rent
And then some

In the end, of course
Sprawled prostrate
On my bed
It felt the same
As any job
I might do
Or have already done

They all leave me
Moaning
Cursing
Pulling my hair
Telling myself

I’m too old for this
I’m not cut out for this
What’s the point of this
Oh god, why this?

It’s how I feel about all
Work for pay
And I’ve tried
My fair share
To be sure

It’s just a job
If it isn’t
Writing

Fuck, man
I’ve gotta
Sell that book…

An Honest Conversation

Posted in Meanderings, Poetry with tags , , , , , , on October 27, 2009 by 1writegirl

Sexual healing
Heat exchange

No need for words
Silent trust

Changing nothing
That’s been said
Replacing nothing
Missing

Natural
Comforting
Easy

In a world
Desperately
Lacking

Independent
Of thought
A fleeting
Reprieve

An honest conversation
Between two bodies

One By One

Posted in Meanderings, Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 26, 2009 by 1writegirl

One by one
I pull them out
Write them down

Dissect them

My fears that keep me
Prisoner

Some petty
Some deep seeded
Some uglier than others

Some caked in blood
Forty years old

Some small
I fear I’ll get a cavity
And not have the money
To fill it

Closest to the surface
Easiest to find

Some large
Not wanting
To see the light of day

I fear I’m not worth loving
If the one I want
Doesn’t want me

All of them need
Recognition

It’s slow
Tedious
Painful
Exhausting

They resist
They come out
Kicking and screaming
Comfortable
In their darkness
In my denial

They rejoice
In quietly
Consuming me
Like disease in a
Passive host

But I dig them out
One by one
And let them crawl
All over me
Call them by name
So I can see them
For what they really are
From whence they came

My only chance
At dissolution

My only chance
To find my
Peace
Within
Rather than without

To release them of
Their power over me
And set them free
Free to go

One by one

Haiku #28: Lone States

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , on October 11, 2009 by 1writegirl

Alone is a state
Of body, lonesome is found
In a state of heart

Meet me

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , on August 18, 2009 by 1writegirl

Meet me

In the hayloft of the old
abandoned barn…

On the corner of
5th and Elm…

Behind the shed
Down the alley
At the water’s edge

Under the railroad tracks
Over the bridge
Beyond the forest

Up the avocado tree
Past the highway
Across the meadow wide

After the sun sets
Before the moon rises
As the tide comes in

In front of ghosts, shadows
Memories and demons

Outside of the box…

Meet me

Impressions

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , on August 16, 2009 by 1writegirl

Palm trees and blue sky
A warm, transparent breeze
Embalming a silent walk
Down sidestreets

Untouched
Amazingly
By bustle
Commotion
Fracas…

Orange blossoms and jasmine

Waft

Caress

Tempt

Encourage

Comfort

Cleanse

Allay momentarily
Fears
Worries
What if’s

And give one
The impression

It’s all good

Tracking

Posted in Prose with tags , , , , , , , , , , on August 13, 2009 by 1writegirl

The night is still
Forceful in its silence
Withholding of anything

Generous
Anything soft

With promise

Shadows poke like branches
Into wanton flesh
Needing to be touched

But by degree
And only by one

Speed is of the essence
The chase begins within
There are no mileposts
No guiding stars

No shortcuts not laden with traps

And the only sound you hear
Are faint and
faltering footsteps

Tracking

In the dark