Can I See

with a moonglow

face of anticipation

she scraped my heart

off her shoes,

peeling away yesterday

dropping me on the

obituary page,

but i was not done,

love was more

than her birdhouse breasts

that held secrets

chirping in a way i could

not feed,

or those hands

that interlocked mine

for walks past lake and wood

that promised more,

conscious of her

beating out a parade

of emotions

that marched staggered and

fell under my influence,

i would have to join in

pick up the beat,

dragged from floor grazed

and bleeding,

no flowers in paper wrap,

no chocolates

or soft music,

a demonstrate grander

needed,

or else i would remain

detested and dropped,

to configure a new way to

my lfe without her.

Fairy houses

Fairy houses.

by Karen Lawrence

Somnambulist

depth of darkness

measured by fear

rolled tight as a scroll

in my gut,

no reflective light

guiding footfalls

taken across carpeted halls,

my mind once a languid

harbor ,

now storm tossed

each night a lesion

to my conscious

breath came in stuttering

pauses from which

condensation lifted,

never reassured,

for every night i walk

the dream of the night before

 

last sentence a prompt at Writers Digest

http://community.writersdigest.com/group/poetrythatbites/forum/topics/poetry-contest

Cautionary Nature

boneless spineless snail

traverse  the borders

in methodical one footed slither,

matted earth sticky trail

green shoots partially devoured,

leaving destruction behind,

going further with home upon

your back,

avoiding pellets scented by death,

away further

to less green places,

where the hunger consumes,

to shelter in an echoing place,

birds call above,

fear is not a concept

accepted in your nature,

you exist,

morals do not play the game,

paused close to a stone

found plucked rapidly

thrown,

air whistles about you

before landing somewhere

unknown markers, tastes

and scents,

you cannot progress,

boneless spineless snail

staying till there is an empty shell,

becoming pale beneath a sun that

holds no righteous light.

Vicarious Hats

indulge me

if you will

before pissing off

to somewhere else,

i tread lightly

so that you see me

yet not feel me,

flickering as a bulb

on bare socket

over a desk

littered in curled

yellowed pages,

some written upon in

inks that dispel moods,

tranquil lakes between

stacks of leatherbound journals

accented by the trails my

life has taken,

do i require

that you linger

like a rumor soured,

yes i do

for i have

placed upon these pages words

of varying strategy,

drawing you into the cavernous

mind that engulfs

all who enter,

my world is so unlike yours

my monsters do not lurk

beneath slatted wooden bed

but morph into that bed

and enfold me and mattress

in wooden embrace of illusion,

but if you enter and still leave

take away a portion

scoop into words, sentence and

phrase with that shovel like

perception,

smile, urge or rant

at my discourse,

you are not required to like

or linger yet i will get you,

under my hats

worn over many faces

you will see me many times

and i will be different

When He Leaves

mother chewed slowly
the mouthful taken from
the fork
seemed to last,
as if she could not let go
of taste and texture,
surely now it must
be done
place a hand on the
back of hers
no pause eyes ahead
then she swallows
“it is done” she says