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 Apr 2016 Call Me Sara
Torin
I
cannot help
the hands
that touch me
when they
could heal me
I know
its a distant
language
written
on my soul
I wasn't
made
to
understand
but she reads me
and I feel
her
more than
     Anything.....
                               My greatest wish
                               I couldn't say
                              is by her
                              spoken
                        ­        my greatest hope
                              is only
                              that I could
                             hold her
                            forever
                               that we'll make love
                              while we're
                             still
                             young
We attempt rescue, unable to bear
the stardust-coated dragonfly
beat, beat, beating
frantic on the glass.

We entice him to perch
on our extended lifeline-broom
nurse him in a box, where he flutters
quivers, lies quietly blue.

My son cries bitterly
as we place a minute cross
upon the dragonfly grave
while intoning our final goodbyes:

We honor those who have fallen victim
to this fatal architectural trap, lured
by skylights of enticing white-light death
and the paned illusion of freedom.

In admiration of winged determination
and perseverance in the face of futility
we carefully tend the fragile, curved bodies
lay them here to rest under the mock orange.


years of gauze-weighted detritus
swept beneath these ponderous shrubs
a reminder - what seems like freedom
                                                         ­           often isn’t.
We lived in a house that had outdoor skylights.  Insects would be lured by the light and die trying to fly through the glass that imprisoned them.
I hated those skylights...

Hey lovely poets!  Thank you so much for being a supportive, amazing group of people.  I'm truly honored that you take the time to read my poems.  The Daily is just icing on an already sweet cake.
: )
I decided to ride the slide sideways

Letting my feet hang over

And one edge guide my neck

I went straight down for a second or two

But with my eyes to sky
I didn't worry

Rather, I just enjoyed the view
 Apr 2016 Call Me Sara
Lora Lee
Here in the desert
it's been raining
on and off
            for days
making the succulents and cacti
glisten with wetness
their thick skin sparkles
and catches nature's ironic eye
flowers and plants shine
so much better in the half-grey
Here in the prehistoric depths
Of rocky whitewash and silt
             flash floods rush through
flushing out all guilt
         And inside
a raging storm commences
and I feel so blessed
to be a part of this celebration
my lungs expanding in my chest
I breathe in deep
that fresh purity of air
let it cleanse right through me
from my toes up to my hair
It rushes in my body
taking no prisoners in its force
flows through every vein
cleansing poisons in its course
its power flows into me
washing out this stubborn pain
Turning the confusion
                     into clarity again
From inside subconscious thoughts
           realization thunders
rinsing from my mind
                 the emotional strain
and replacing it with euphoric wonders
Come, my raging desert tempest
Bathe me
       penetrate me with wet
restore and purify
my being
take over and disinfect
let me feel my own strength
until it pours out from my cells
into the space inside my heart
where love and lust still dwell
My tears mingle with the sweet drops
                as I fling arms open to the sky
releasing strikes of lightening
for every word I cry
as I summon, pray for lightness
mixed with the sturdiness of earth
Let joy rise up and bubble
within my being
as rebirth
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