I live in an
Enchanted Forest.

Where woodland animals appear
In misty twilight from behind
The mineral-stained shower curtain
And dewdrops sparkle on
The toothpaste-spattered
Mascara-blotted mirror.

Tiny little elves
Rumple my sheets and
Throw my clothing on the floor
Magic fairies dance over
The dresser top and eyeliner-strewn vanity
To the mystical, elusive strains of Owl City.

Mushroom jewels spring up
In my closet while I sleep
Dreaming of princes and turning sixteen
Ruling a kingdom and graduating highschool
Christmas lights twinkle like the
Multicolored stars of a fantasy night.

I spend my days in
This little woodland cottage
My loyal mutt snoring on her rug
Notebooks lined up on
A shelf with drying herbs
Chattering mice and potions of tired hopes.

I live in an Enchanted Forest
Or maybe I just sprayed too much perfume again.

Today I
Lost my
Temper

Maybe I dropped it
On the way out
Of the store
Where a mother
Swore at
Her five
Year
Old


Maybe I miss
Placed it
When we
Visited
Our old
Church
And everyone
Spoke to me
Like they understood
Me
But forgot my
Name
A lot

Could I have,
Left it
At my dad's house?
Where he
Ignored
My kid brother
And little sister
Told us how much
He
Missed our
Mother
Right after
He had finished
Divorcing her

Perhaps it's
Under the seat
Of our car
Maybe it fell out
Of my pocket
At that red light
The one
When the car next to
Us had a
Man
Screaming
At his wife
In front of their kids
And
One of the children
Cried
And he turned around
And hit them
Really
Hard

This is so bizarre
I can't find it
Any where.

Music to a song

I was sort of hoping,
that you would come along.
Like the answer to a prayer,
and the music to a song.

Like the kind of thing that happens
at a special place in time,
that will change my life forever,
like a fantasy of mine.

The fantasy was there before
I ever knew your name.
and now that I have found you
I will never be the same.

So,pardon if I look at you,
forgive me if I stare
at the fantasy I knew before
I saw you standing there.

For I was always hoping
that you would come along,
like the answer to a prayer
and the music to a song.

By

Randy McPeek

(another re-post from Poetfreak)

Poet, weave your words
into a tapestry of desire.
Cross the warp of loneliness
against the weft of tenderness.
Fashion fabric of sweet caress
to keep us warm, awhile.

Poet, spin your wheel;
press the verbs and nouns
into a *** for our hopes and fears,
to catch the water of our tears,
to hold the memories of the years.
Fire a vessel of your renown.

Poet, strike the iron
into a blade so sharp and true.
Forge a sentence with raging heat,
measure a meter with rhythmic beat,
take words from the dictionary, or the street--
let the smoke of pretense go up the flue!

It hung on a hook on my closet door.
Soft plaid flannel,
blues and grays,
softer with each wash.
At workday's end  
I took off my daily armor
and slipped my arms into sleeves
that hung inches past my hands.
I fastened buttons over bare *******
and tied the hem around my hips.
I held it to my face, breathed
and thought I could smell your scent,
lingering after dozens of washings--
the musk of masculinity--
an essence of strong sinews,
curly chest hairs
and work-worn hands.
I wore the shirt to bed  
and drifted into sleep,
knowing I was not alone.
The memory of you clung to me--
the softness of unspoken intimacies,
the warmth of domestic familiarity.
In slumber, forgetting

A woman is like a candle,
full of warmth, and bright.
When the world is at its darkest,
a good one can be your light.
She'll bring such heat and beauty,
to see you through the night.
Though storms leave you in darkness,
with her there, you feel alright.

A woman is like a candle, true.
a necessity to have around-
but if denied the proper attention
she could burn your house to the ground.

How did it feel when your innocence dried up and blew away on the desert wind?
When you woke from unknowing, blissful sleep
to blistering heat,
acrid smoke and shattering cries?
I bet you wished you could go back to sleep--
the sleep you fell into from a lullaby of lies.
Righteous rhetoric repeated
over and over, soothing rhythms
as you were rocked by a firm hand.
In Iraq, when you took your command
you were unprepared, your men untrained.
Can you bear to think it was in vain?
Mission unclear, you had no guide, no plan.
Now your anger boils when you see the pain
of your brothers, broken in pieces, abandoned, ignored.
And when you tell your tale, your audience is bored.
They don’t, won’t, or can’t understand
the helpless fear, frustration, confusion,
the shots you ordered, the blood trail in the sand.
No more can you believe; you’ve been cheated, betrayed
by those you trusted, followed; those who said
We know what’s best, our decisions are made.
Now you cannot go back to your childish trust.
First steps taken in a foreign land, now a man,
you face the dawn, because you must.

He still sits there on the right
hand charred, blistered
His suit stained ****** from Freedom
his body suited with the black fog of Greed
words dripping, slobbering forth from his wretched maw
a caustic faucet of brown water

"Don't drink your calories—
unless you want to get drunk."

Her eyes trembled with tears

Weakness stretches out,
not searching strength—
for another soul to be
weak with

A heavy languor spilled into the room
all she can think about
is the patterned ceiling,
which was a book for her to read
while entwined in damp blue sheets