Lee Plaza Hotel, Detroit, photo by Bonnie Beechler
What could they have been
looking for in this mass
of destruction? Nothing
worth taking here. Even
are outdated. Have not
seen a television set
like this for decades. Still,
there must have been
in this room, otherwise,
how else to explain
the level of rage.
Written for: http://magpietales.blogspot.com/Mag #210
Nothing like a trip
to Paradise, to celebrate
a missed birthday. Bake
like a cake under a platter-
round sun that will not take
its leave until late in the day,
when cotton puffs drift off
to catch some sleep, leaving
a violet twilight. Be sure
to tread carefully around
the row of blue bubbling
jellyfish at the ocean’s edge.
Written for: http:/sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/wordle #151
Words: row, celebrate, catch, cotton, platter, leaves, trip, jelly, paradise, bake miss
Years later, he saw her
snapping a picture
of blooming lilac bushes
in the gardens. Maybe,
he thought, I am mistaken.
So many years had fluttered
away, petals falling
from a rose. He drew near,
and a fragrance filled his
senses. She still wore
that same permeating perfume.
He could never forget
that haunting scent, and all
those memories that went
with it. They would linger
Written for Creative Bloomings #145
Take a small spark of life, something others would
consider insignificant, and give it, its due.
Will not be able to comment for this week, but I will catch up with everyone after Monday. Thanks, Sara
Who will pave
into smooth streets
of the future?
Who will erect
to house humanity’s
majority, not the wealthy minority?
How many future
exist to break the mold
that is shamefully stuck in antiquity?
Written for: http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/Mid-week Motif
I gave you that scarf years ago,
right after you divorced Joe.
We really must be getting old,
Well, never mind, I can’t find that pen
you gave me back who knows when.
We really must be getting old,
Seems like yesterday, we were so young
blasting music, chewing gum.
We really must be getting old-
Written for Creative Bloomings
On Friday, October 13th,
we will hold
a coming back
to life party
for Marty Gold
at Cecil’s Cryogenics,
1313 Miracle Thaw Road.
Bring jackets . . . .unless.
Written for Poetic Asides
Write an announcement poem.
The Sleeping Gypsy, 1897, by Henri Rousseau
Cooling clouds of day fade
into twilight. Gypsy woman drifts
peacefully to sleep, small store
of possessions at her side.
Clutching her walking stick,
she dreams of wild beasts
sharing her terrain, and perhaps
Written for: http://magpietales.blogspot.com/Mag #209
What fueled this latest assault
on her body? Six months
had sailed by without any
type of attack, and now
she is at the mercy
of double vision–unbalanced,
unable to guess when
the symptoms will cease.
This onset triggers
that old anxiety–fear of leaving
the house. Next day, listlessness
sets in, wasting her day. Vertigo
is a cage, keeping her prisoner,
with no sure way to break out
Written for: http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com #150
Words: type, easy, double, mercy, cage, list, trigger, assault, fuel, guess, six
Every life needs its own imagination
or stagnation will set in, ruts too tough
to climb out of, sameness settling in
like a virus. Stop this! You can see
beaches brightening your day, animals
having animated conversations,
or mad tea parties with disappearing
cats, and a red queen who clearly
is bats. Close your eyes and transport
yourself to a place of your own
Written for Creative Bloomings #144
Every Life Needs Its Own _______