My Soul

My soul, oh, my soul, my unfettered soul!
My ancient, my infant, my untethered soul!
Soul of sweet substance - angels' delight.
Soul of rank darkness - devil's own night.
Not fit for heaven, but still somehow divine.
Soul, oh, this soul of mine.

Oh, this soul of mine,
spirit unshined.
Impatient, uncertain -
sometimes unkind.
But gentle enough
for forgiveness to find.
Soul, oh, this soul of mine.

For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

When I Left You

When I left you,
I left you
the tattoo on my left arm
that I let you give me
that 4th of July.

I left you the heart
with the butterfly wings,
but I kept the red rose
that climbs
up my thigh.

For Poetry Pantry at Poets United

Instrument

strings of stars
from navel to heart
rib weave
chest
octaves of
drum tight skin
egg belly
blood nest

For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

Raven

Raven rides the line above
and chides her weary hunter.
Want her dead or live, you'd love
to bed her ugly under
the dirt     of the murder tree
on your knees     plot and graving
clad in widow's weeds     raving

For Poetry Pantry at Poets United

Why Women Didn't Speak Up Decades Ago

because they were raised
to make peace
not waves
because they had little
real power
despite their new power suits
because they had bills
to pay and kids
to feed
because they just
wanted
to forget

For Brendan's prompt at Real Toads

I Am Not Seeing

this
place, lovely as
it may be.  All I see
is the vacancy beside me -
the ghost.

For Sanaa's prompt at Real Toads

Sometimes Solace

Sometimes solace shadows sunrise,
slipping in with the spreading light -
slow and sleepy from a long night
aligning stars

with where you are,
restless in your bed.

She whispers, "Peace will come
once your promises are kept."

Heretic Heart

I had a heretic heart
cool and skeptic in my chest.
Prideful of its wildness,
it beat quick with testament.

Then one day I found my love
for madness less than pure -
my heretic heart was humbled
by a craving to be sure.

For Words Count at Real Toads

After The Flood

There is no dove,
no olive branch,

just mud.

Sucking, slurping,
sludge to shovel

mud .

Murky water, mosquitoes, mold,
and mud.

The meek are drowning
in their earthy
inheritance.

For Houston and The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

Flashlight Tag

Like a mannequin
in the marigolds, still
as a statue.

Let the flashlight circle of sun      pause,        then pass you by.

Don't laugh       run fast
for the streetlight.

Flying braids and bare feet -    Tag!  

Too slow     this time.

For Poetry Pantry at Poets United