Some yearn for sugar-spritzed marshmallows
So bright they seem ready to spring,
To caper and cavort across the plastic grass
Until, headless, they fall – or rise again,
Joined by dismembered cohorts of chocolate,
The wish of other hungry souls along with
Eggs and chicks – all the same rich confection.
Among them eggs that bleed rich cream,
Bought in handfuls and consumed to a coma
While the hunt continues through the yard
With rewards of bright-colored plastic (empty)
Or worse, a discarded craft project,
That holds only food – no candy or coins –
Unless, wait, yes, it could (oh please)
Contain a chorus of glitter awaiting its prey.
The shower of sparkles, the laughter, the chase and (eventually)
To sleep with a chocolate-smeared smile on your face.
Tag Archives: Poem
The Hunt
Fain to Fade
Do they walk?
Why would they walk?
These faded shades of legs,
Long crumbled, hidden away.
Is it memory?
Some distant longing
For what once was –
Before it wasn’t.
Is that why they stay?
That need to see – to be?
To walk, to sing, to hold, to touch –
Are those the draw that,
All unseen, hold them
Where they cannot be
But must remain –
A dream, now dust:
Fate fain to fade.
Dream While You Can
Dream while you can
Til it fades in the dawn:
The dawn of marriage,
The dawn of kids,
The uncountable dawns
Of the life that you live –
Look! There! Can you see
Responsibilities break
Through the clouds
Of dreams left behind:
Ambiguous, undefined, hidden
In the depths of your mind –
Taken over by dreams
Taken over in kind.
Be Still
Sometimes (thought too rarely, in truth),
I like to sit and be still, to
Listen to the world and
Empty my mind of thought, of plans –
No worries, no inner monologue: a
Calm, tranquil pool of water, too often too
Easily unsettled, unbalanced, or drained
Governed by a Fickle Director
Some ancient myth – No,
Propaganda proposed by
Rapacious clothing stores. Or
Ill-conceived set changes,
Not timed well, constantly re-ordered –
Governed by a fickle director.
Nearly Inconceivable
Impossibly
Major yet somehow
Possible – in theory
Or, at least, in
Some futures: Nearly
Inconceivable, with
Noisome overtones and
Grueling implications.
Absurd
I turned my back on a play to do another day.
It turned its back in turn – too late? Absurd!
A lesson learned (unheard).
Simple Truths
From or to
With and for,
The company is
And isn’t.
Together without,
They’re apart within,
From all that was
At present.
So shall be
What cannot be
And so shan’t be
What should.
Can’t or can,
The words alone:
Horrible, awful,
Good.
Through Open Eyes
Through open eyes, you see the dream,
A whisper’s length from reach.
You hear it creep though it doesn’t move,
You feel its voice though it doesn’t speak —
A taste of flame that doesn’t heat,
So perfect formed, so incomplete.
You stare in longing and back away,
Away into a void
Where reason lies with emotion’s voice
And tells you nothing at all,
And from such strong persuasion,
You willingly let it fall.
twytte 