that's mrs. mediocrity to you

{august break no. 2}

sparkle green

golden sideways

mute repercussion

::

what you see

matters less

than what

you

swallow

::

::

this post is part of dVerse OpenLinkNight

raised from the dead
by an angel’s voice
in a plea to save
mother earth

my heart cries
too late, too late

my mind sits
in a bowl

empty

wrapping itself
around
two words

like a snake
without
a tongue

::

::

::

As a rule, I’m not big on explaining poems, I like to leave them open to the reader’s interpretation, but this one needs some explanation. This past weekend I went to a festival at a local Native American Historic Site. The featured singer, Joanne Shenandoah, in explaining one of her songs, mentioned Wilma Mankiller, and immediately, there was a poem. I know little about Wilma, other than the brief explanation given by Joanne — she was a real person, a great person,
the first female Chief of the Cherokee Nation. 

This poem is less about who she was and more about the images her name
immediately evoked. And the photo? Well, other than boosting the
contrast and the saturation, what you see, whatever you see,
is what was there.

If you feel like commenting, I’d be curious to know
what your thoughts are about explaining your poetry.

::

this post is part of dVerse OpenLinkNight

all those things

i never asked for

you laid at my feet

in triumph.

.

that thing i wanted most

(the key to your

military heart)

.

you could not offer

.

not knowing

where you’d left it

.all those years ago

.

and

never thinking

to look

in your pocket.

.

::

::

this post is part of dVerse OpenLinkNight
and the farewell edition of oneshotwednesday
join us!

summer sun
hot, hot
golden glow
singing songs
of ripening

in a farmer’s field
a day’s work
transforms gold
into stubble

earth’s cycle
laid bare
in the light
of labor’s
morning

::

::

Today I am also over at Vision & Verb
with more thoughts on this field of wheat.

Come, join us!

::

this post is part of one shot poetry wednesday

she leads the way

and somehow

it’s always

the right direction.

she said
paint me a cloud
and he
made her his wife

::

he said
make me a life
and she
broke into song

::

she said
feed me some hope
and he
built her a nest

::

he said
watch for the crow
and she
buried her heart

::

she said
teach me to fly
and he
brought her the sun

::

he said
stay by my side
and she
looked to the sky

::

::

::

this post is part of one shot poetry wednesday

there is never enough

there is always too much

time mocks me from the corner

as i pace the perimeter

of this room

this life

that keeps me laughing

crazy silly insane girl

laughter

sometimes

yes

but always

laughing.

::

it’s the echo

that drives

me.

::

::

::

this post is part of one shot poetry wednesday

::

summer night

purple glow of

twilight

softly shadowed

insight

a dragonfly

pause

in mid-flight

::

::

::

this post is part of one shot poetry wednesday

::

what you said was always so different

than what you meant

and what you meant was almost

never there.

::

but you had that smile

playing music in its curves

one note always stuck

to the corner.

::

::

::

this post is part of one shot poetry wednesday

i might wish to

live in a tent for the summer

run through the forest at dawn

breathe in the scent of white roses

roll in the green sheet of lawn

::

but at night i find i’d simply rather

bathe in the silence of moonlight

fold my heart into the arms of dancing stars

smile at the envelope of birdsong

lie beneath this veil of muffled charm

::

::

this post is part of one shot wednesday