#Poemaday 21: Spilled Honey

Spilled Honey
 (in response to Prompt 21)

There are days when it is my turn
not to show my face,
when it is my turn
to turn my toes toward each other,
to cover my ears with my arms,
to hide and protect
shame or fear or guilt or blame

or desire.

Head low, only empty chairs at my side
Maybe no one will know.
Maybe no one will care

and wouldn't that be the worst of it?

To carry a secret that gnaws
on your insides, leaving
the outside beautifully flawed 
and the whole world fooled?

Desire spreads like spilled honey --
indulgent liquid, slow sweet trap
drawing flies.

#Poemaday 20: For the Young

@budtheteacher continues to keep me moving forward with his engaging prompts!

For the Young
I used to think indulgence
was for the young.

Food and drink consumed
from both fists,
lanky body
sprawled across hard linoleum,
refrigerated air
massaging shoulders
bared in tank top--
No worries about
electric bills or grocery shopping,

calories or loose skin.

Now I know
(after years of  holding back)
that losing one's self in something
is a feeding of the senses.

Even losing myself to you,
indulging in your presence
begins my resurrection.

#Poemaday 17: Playthings or Poetry

Thanks to @budtheteacher for another prompt that took me in a very different direction than what I had imagined.


Playthings (or Poetry)
You are my companion on wild backyard adventures,
my solace on rainy indoor days
and in those troubled times,
my last goodnight before dreams take me into sleep.
I build with you, color with you,
pretend and pretend and pretend
with you until I am  not sure
where pretend ends and real begins.
I bounce you around
and make you tell stories,
toss you into the air
and leave you sprawled on the floor,
evidence that we are not idle,
evidence that we are working, thinking.

Picking up the loose thread of any of a thousand tales,              
each day we see the world through my wise child eyes.

#Poemaday 16: Whatcha readin'?

Whatcha readin' ?


Drive by Daniel Pink
The Lacuna (pulling me into its dangerous deep pools)
by Kingsolver and Because of Winn-Dixie,
a chapter before each day's goodnight.
A few student essays.
Poisonwood Bible chapters -- already annotated, but I need to
see it again with eyes a year older
because the students are pushing through read #1.

And there's more.
Blog after blog after blog.
Comments, replies, requests.
Tweets that line themselves up twenty four hours a day.
Trends and hashtags.
More student essays (they haunt me) and,
I confess, a copy of People at the hair salon.
Bit.ly linked articles
Status updates.
The space between the lines.

On my best days, your face,
the back of the cereal box
and something like this by me, but better.