Naming Night

Ramshackle raw,
seed and salt,
this need I caught
on naming night

for the stretch of syllables,
yes, my syllables
slip/sweet
from your tongue.

All that I am
and all I can be
you gave to me
on naming night.

A warm, slow ferment,
temper and torment
I can't cure
and wouldn't wish
undone.

55 words for Kerry at Real Toads

Clearance Rack

Just as I was giggling
at the clearance rack and wondering
what kind of certain age woman
wears Marilyn Monroe,
wouldn't you know -

there she was

with a knee high leather boot strut,
ripped jeans on her mom butt,
and Marilyn sprawled
proudly across
the work of Dr. Gus.

Uh . . .

Because I am a poet,
I tried to see the poem,
really tried to see the poem,
but all that I saw was

a message -

some things are bigger
and blonder
than the best of us.

Written by a certain age woman currently dressed as a witch and wearing Marvel Comics Toms . . . for Margaret's Artistic Impressions at Real Toads.

Stop / Motion

I'm a little jerky frame to frame;
a little stiff,
a little lame,
but I can't stop.

My animation's a trifle blurred.
Impressionist?
It will have to serve;
it's the best I've got.

A body in motion
stays in motion.
A body in motion
stays in motion.
A body   mantra
prayer   emotion.

Can't stop.

For Midweek Motif ~ Animation at Poets United

Pit Pony

When the words spur(n) me,

I'm like a pit pony pushed to the light; I blink

and drink in the riot 

of the leaves 

changing.

Outside
the cancerous cage of the mine, my mind,

there is air to spare -

it's amazing to me

all the grace that awaits

when I stop chasing 

some damn turn of phrase

and just open my eyes.

A work in progress for The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

Weather

a bare branch trembling
a north wind leaf shuffling ache
under the weather

For Haiku Horizons