Savor the Night

Slipping between the cool sheets
I lie, cushioned on softness.
Feeling the silky smooth fabric 
caress my naked body,
pressing in on all sides
touching me
in all the right places.
Softly, the light fades
outside my curtained window.
The velvet darkness surrounds me.
I’m soon to be
cocooned in sleep.
I close my eyes
and drift to dreams
floating, flying, falling
from the last vestiges of consciousness
into fluid, weightless wonder. 

This poem was published in the literary webzine Writing Raw

City of the Blind: Ballad of a Schizophrenic

In the city of the blind

they say the one-eyed man is king.

But better to see nothing, sense nothing

then to see reality half the time

and distortion the rest.

Better to lift the needle, like Oedipus

and pierce out every bit of misguided sight

Than to see through this dark glass

Distorted, disjointed.

Delusions, they tell me.

When reality sleeps, I wake up from my dream

Alone, not knowing what I did or said

yesterday, to lead me here

But knowing I will find out.

The horror of a mind, fading in and out

in queasy rhapsody.

I pray for the kiss

Of true, uninterrupted madness

To salve me to my dying day.

After the Husbands Left the Table

Excuse me, but for just one brief moment I saw behind that bright lipstick smile, fangs, bred for biting jaws lowered, like a wolf, hungry to be baptized in hot, sticky blood. I thought for just a second there I saw curved talons neatly curled under  your filed nails, so  elegantly painted. So much paint we wear, don't we? Ruby lips and shadowed eyes, beige liquid to conceal every blemish. We can't be seen, we must "put on our face." Oh, all that war paint to get it just right. And on your finger, too, a diamond. How lovely. Diamonds are hard, you know. They use them to cut steel. Oh, now they've come back. What is that, honey? No, I'm fine. Excuse me. Just had a little too much wine.

Ascending: A Poem

I dream of swimming up
through a velvet ocean,
ascending towards the purple dawn.
Sometimes when I reflect upon my life
it seems I've always been submerged.
I'm fighting my way up a steep incline
to a new world
where life will finally be manageable
all my conflicts tied up
in a neat white bow.


This was a word bank poem: 


velvet, steep,purple,neat,reflect

Poem: Frozen Thunder

Frozen Thunder: Reflections on a Painting of the Battle of Waterloo


Sadly, I've lost the link to the painting that inspired this, but it was a rendition of the Battle of Waterloo, complete with charging horses, firing muskets, and soldiers lying dead on the battlefield.


The short, staccato beats, the cries,
the moans of wounded, smell of musket smoke
Captured in time, silent
Still, like gray slated stones
that sit so neatly, row on endless row.
We have forgotten them -
their names, their lives, their private battles
Their loves, their families, their secret hopes and dreams
In that place where hope curdles
clumps together, runs like pus
weeping from infected wounds.
Marching down hills, the soldiers came.
In pressed, stiff uniforms, they came.
Floods bursting from the dam of reason,
Soldiers came.
In that place where the sun darkened
where the soil was kissed with blood.
From sticks and stones to guns, to bombs
Through the days and down the years
War goes on and on.

The Pack

"The Pack"

This is their fierce circle.
They range round the bloodstained snow.
Reclining
on hairy paws.
With their claws and
things sharper.
They wouldn't like the comparison
With their costumes
in yellows and blues.
Their fastidiously applied war paint.
And the chanting that
comes with the territory.
Carefully orchestrated moves
to bring down the big game.
They wait and wait.
For any sign of weakness
and then pounce.

Authors Note: Dedicated to some cheerleaders of my acquaintance. This poem appears on helium. To see how it was rated, go to the site http://www.helium.com/items/1536165-poetry-on-bullying