Please be gentle with words
utter them with soft lips
caress them with your breath

Don't use them carelessly
or flaunt them
to make yourself look big

or use a fancy one
where a plain one will do
for each word has its moment

Let the words sing their own song
floating off the page
into the clear fresh air

Watch them fly away like butterflies
going no obvious direction
their meaning deliciously apparent

I was a member
of the "Hope They'll Like me" crowd
needy and aiming to please

foot tapping, shifting in my wooden chair
the noise in my head drowning out
the words on your lips

and what was the big deal anyway?
if no one liked me
status quo

I'd still have the few
the ones I could depend on
Except, let's digress together,
in dark moments of insecure delusion
when I could imagine even them
lacing my drink with an untraceable poison
pushing me off the cliff's edge

But I never linger long
in this Hitchcockian dream

I'm opting now
for "I Hope I'll Love You"

listening and observing
your words and beyond
trying to see and understand

Keeping my heart near the surface
available for bumps and bruises
but resilient
full of good humor

watching with a smile tinged with wist
while some dismiss me as frivolous
and others reach for my hand

feeling fortunate with a hint of fear
each new chance
to be part of the mystery

the muse came late
her face in battered bandage
her angry beautiful
her homemade crutches
works of art in cherry wood

her face in battered bandages
the muse came late
she gave her blood
in vials of splintered glass
her angry beautiful

the muse came late
her angry beautiful
a satchel filled with herbs
to cure and ****
she gave her blood

her angry beautiful
she gave her battered blood
as thick as cherry ink
her whispered manifesto
a satchel filled with herbs

she gave her blood
a satchel filled with herbs
of rosemary forget-me-nots and rue
her homemade crutches
works  of art in cherry wood

Middle age fills out your baggy jeans
overflowing with wisdom
even the planet earth seems rounder
as it rolls another year around the sun

The idea first arose
when he was a mere child
watching the birds lift off
as he ran at them

Supreme deficit
to be un-winged
Oh cruel evolution!
to be banished to the earth

The poet sits
on her posterior
penning poesies for the people

I spent years in a cave writing nothing but sonnets
I chanted my mantra in iambic beat
ate my meals from quatrain plates
drank my wine from gold couplets

used a quill to pick rhymes
from my chattering teeth
my hair grew wild and free as verse
my heart exploded with love that was fierce

and yet here I am, here I still am
coping with nothing but paper and pen

This is a test
this is only a test

you may opt to do the right thing
you may opt to think of all humanity and not just the people you know

in the event of an actual emergency
what will you do?
if all the weapons are in the hands of fools?

what will you do?
if the votes of many aren't counted?

this piercing tone serves as a reminder
you may be called upon
to do heroic deeds

In me there are volumes
upon infinite volumes of poetry
written in calligraphy on
handmade linen parchment in
a dark corner of my brain

crumpled ***** of paper
clog my arteries
words and symbols
seeping out my pores

a deluge of rhyme
a ***** of verse
a million billion zillion
ridiculous lines of litany

my time belongs not to me
but to a strange epiphany
not good, not bad, it is what is
each poem is my purpose

Blinking eyes distraction mind
never settling her arrow to target

check email fifty times a day
nothing new alerts from advertisers

slobber over social media
lost between tragedy and humor

bees crash into window pane
again and again and again and again

hungry hungry for connection
I kiss your warm palm smelling of ivory soap

It was an arbitrary day
at the arboretum
the ferns were all wondering why
a rash of rogue rhododendrons
were roughing up the azaleas
while mighty magnolias stood meekly by

A patch of tiny cyclamen giggled girlishly
while witch hazels waved green wands
and the willows wrung their hands
and wept and wept
'cause they knew what was really going on

You with your post-primitive hair
and your eyelids
stop teasing
we're all in on the secret
though mum

ten times i've told you
in operatic tones
ten times i've curtseyed
before you a rose in my teeth

my heart is all stomach ache
with regret
opportunities for truth squandered
polite smiles and pleasantries

today let's speak free

Snowing cherry blossoms again
such is May

obvious bees buzzing with newness

birds in full fledge
shrieking delight and outrage

poignant breeze stops
Sun from her slow burn

we brim with hope
our glasses filled of flowers

Dozens of days
still can't remember
my name

but you know it don't you?

gender is such a distraction
I can see the temptation
the relative ease
not having one

but I'm a woman
what a woman

disgraced and redeemed
over and over

desire and dismissal
obsession and obstetrics

cowered before villains
an army of millions marching behind me

told the plain truth
lying with only my smile

tripping over my words
in a stream of pure eloquence
there's  nothing left for me
but to be burned as a witch

cackling as the flames
flicker against my feet
a phoenix

More important to be honest
than original

If hackneyed lines race from your pen
let them run let them run

at the end you'll find
there was no race at all

no trophy awaits you

break free of the track
ride your truth all the way into the sunset

He was right about April
callous brutality
washing our sorrows in joy
each sweet breath effortful
eyes reborn to the brightness
unaccustomed to all this blossoming
an embarrassment of beauty

but we go on
year after blistering year
infusing our days with purpose
we'll never come to understand
your lips against mine in
mysterious bliss

You don't begin with Guernica
if that's somewhere you're ever
meant to go

chubby baby hands grip the crayon
someday if you're lucky (or not)
they'll draw a thin straight line
in charcoal
just the least perceptible curve
enough to delight the eye
imperfection thrills the masses

then you paint and paint and paint
time and patience
some money
luck again, always luck

you're a master

maybe someone will recognize in your lifetime
most likely no
unless you're a tireless self-promoter

but your work
your work is sublime

Words fly in fly out
was there ever any doubt?
words fly out fly in
fall down wasted in the bin

Death, my friend, is in everything
we touch
the small porcelain cup
which holds my coffee
the tiny silver spoon that
stirs my mind

our breaths are numbered
assigned at birth
watching your chest rise and fall
as you sleep
I count
trying to formulate between us
the perfect equation

my deep and dire dreams
redeem me
no lunar memory remains
I'm transformed with no recollection
precious state
dissolving ribbon
a fresh organism
cells renewed
a sloughing off of the night
a hatching
perhaps, after all, there is a soul

I plan to be

one of
The

next

generation

where rhyme

is not
a crime

I'll accomplish it somehow

be reborn
into
a
family
wealthy but neglectful

weirdos

do my time as a child

woeful adolescent
suffer slings & arrows

come out on
top

my pen poised
to write this
simple
song

Made from ground up leaf of
sassafras

taste like the bottom of the bayou
shrimp boil
smoke and gators

sprinkle it on stir it in
don't cook it or your gumbo
gets stringy-ew
Choctaws knew

FDA will tell you it's poison
like strong words
bad haircuts
keep sipping your KoolAid please

nothing but magic in filé
flavor of down-home voodoo
zydeco iron skillet cornbread
Mama knows what's good for you

I'm trapped in the rhythm of the sonnet
a partnership I chose all by myself
I found the bard's hat and chose to don it
but did not see his shackles on the shelf

of all the paths I've chosen and regretted
I feel this should be easiest to fix
by me this road is only lightly treaded
old mangy dog learning still older tricks

I care no more for forms which close my heart
I'd rather open up and set it free
this stricture doesn't merely stifle art
it's suffocating what's inside of me

even this couplet seems to have a cost
the corset is pulled tight and I am lost

I sprung out of this polka-dotted haze
rose up into a new exotic phase

a spring of fleurs erupted from my fount
forced
bulb March of mother May I's
forget-me-knotted hair
sashaying Miss American me
Ms. Primrose Promise
sprouting a court of daffodilian dandies
defrosting smiles of delight

tip-toe-Tiny-Tim Tambourine man
faerie of frivolity
waves his wand over
my zone 8

I bloom anew

I curse the midnight muse
her full bladder urgency

calling from the darkest darkness
quilling me willing me to write

I season my lies with grains of truth
which make the average story worth its salt
it touches me between the tongue and tooth
so every falsehood shines without a fault

what's true is slippery banana peel
your story flips the coin of one I tell
believing only one side shows what's real
buys you a ticket to a special layer of hell

so hold your facts lightly let them fly
watch their feathers turn from royal blue to gray
know you know nothing 'til the day you die
for truth is shaped from brittlest of clay

Truth is lighter than the tiniest of flea
its bitter bite jars us into harsh reality

Some days no words worthwhile wasteland
of a page before me barely
will to carry on weather
report mental fog emotions
on the ebb the moving
finger writes not so much
wit unawake more
pathos less
piety bereft
of self empty
vessel

Robo Poet always wins the contest
tickling your fancy with that perfect rhyme scheme
scanning your psyche for metaphor
writing three poems at once

Robo Poet knows what you want
posts at the perfect time
writes while you're sleeping
sleeps only in your dream

Robo Poet doesn't care
Love poem? if that's what you want baby
****** in every stanza
sapphire eyes shining brighter

You can always depend on Robo Poet
he's inside you feels your pain
he's got the rhythm he's got the beat of your heart
drop your pen, let him write

It's a morning for pages
pages and pages
droplets of coffee stained
jam thumbprints in the margin

It's a morning for pages
pen gliding across paper
ideas streaming from
no mind just a reflex

A morning for pages
fill them up with words
wondrous words of mischief and meaning
words of wonder and regret

It's a morning for pages
time to waste paper basket
the debris that clouds the brain
time to remedy what remains

A morning for pages
running the pen dry
reckoning of soul
making way for the rest of this day

Listen! let's all hold our tongues
for a moment
the clock will stop if we do
our pens motionless above the page
qwertyuiop keybords rest untouched

still also our minds
no judgement on what's left to hear
voice of the universe OM
vibrating from toes to crown
weaving 'round and through us

connecting all living things
with earth's foundations
oceans and rocks
Listen! can you hear it?
it's a song like the introduction
from original Star Trek
taking us where we've never been before

and who am i to argue
are we not fools every one?
there's never truth in every word
only thin glimmers show us light
a poem holds up the mirror
to reflect the dawn a little clearer

My mind is quiet today
not too much to say
even the rhymes are overly simple
corners of my mouth turning up
just slightly in mild amusement

The day is still as well
fog sits patiently in the dell
and the rhymes stay simple
like my life, not overly exciting
a study in mundanity but balanced
in flavors sweet, bitter, sour, spicy,
pungent, never once worried about
the source of my next meal
Never once.

And poetry of dubious quality
pours and pours from my pen
pours and pours from my pen
filling me with purpose and wonder

The best words stretch the mind like taffy
pulled and twisted to sweet perfection
opening doors to heart ,windows to soul
Inviting sunlight and salad days back to the roost

No narrative captures the truth whole
so I choose the mist of poetry
as close as we come to understanding

I try hard not to worry
if i'm right or if i'm wrong
endeavor to be more bird than bard
and sing my merry song
and sing my merry song

Awake! this is life
Be not ungrateful for its toll
Cultivate an aura of contentment
Delve deeply for that thing they call a soul

Examine all your motives and intentions
Fling aside delusion in your path
Glimpse through tiny keyhole possibility
Harness all resistance with your wrath

Imitate great ones who came before you
Jeopard not the love within your heart
Karma cannot limit your ability to
Lacerate each falsehood all apart

Mingle with the angels out among us
Never rest until you need the sleep
Obviate the demons which cling to us
Perforate what makes you feel cheap

Querulous we walk the road to happy
Rutted as it is with mire and muck
Spare your energies and sweet entreaties
To walking ghosts who just don't give a ****

Upend all ideas that forestall you
Vindicate what you know to be true
Windmills of illusion won't enthrall you
Xcept when you opt to allow them to

Yesterday may blind us with her memory
Zelos might appreciate our idolatry

Start with forgiveness
because it's the hard one
not picking at your scabs
let them itch

Tenderly treat yourself
like your dearest love
pull aside the velvet curtains
brush the hair from your careful eyes

All your furious passions, pet them,
soothe your tearful brow
allow yourself to be all you are
genius-fool, lover-hater, beauty-hag
wanter, wanted, wanting

Take baby-steps
toward the arms of peace

Here, drink this,
Share my half-full cup
don't worry if you take it all
You're thirsty, drink it up

walk with me aways
i'll let you wear my shoes,
the soles are worn, the laces frayed
but they are tried and true

Sleep now, you're so tired
close your magic eyes
tomorrow is tomorrow
so say the lullabies

When you make yourself
Peaceful
you've done all you can
for peace on the planet

Not Much

still, your light,
a tiny spark in the
Darkness
can be seen for a million miles

You used to lose me in the rose garden
in the misty maze of paths we knew by heart
I'd look for you down by the waterfall
on the bench by the oaken arbor

I hope you'll find me there again one day
peeking out from behind the tangled thorns
intoxicated by aroma's perfect rosary
dance a ring-a-rosy with you once more

Quick! Call the poetic constabulary
I'm mincing words about my vocabulary
Help! I'm drowning in my thesaurus
evidence that i'm merely a brontosaurus

Listen up to my Greek chorus:
"Such silly word play should place her in poem prison
a ponderous place from which few have risen
Locked in the cell, losing her sense
consequence of writing with no poetic license"

Writing on with no reason or rhyme
just doing my poetic time
iambic meters bite me in the ****
trying to force me out of my sonnetic rut

stumbling on ideas most trite
all the pitfalls of making the choice to write

put on your internet mittens
'cause, Baby, it's cold out there
in spite of the millions of kittens
there's a definite chill in the air

i may never read what you've written
it's not that i don't love your wares,
i'm only eternally smitten
by outdoors, green trees, and fresh air

so keep writing, Baby, go faster
it's writing that makes writing great
if you stop it would be a disaster
so stick it, you know, it's your fate

My angels have abandoned me this morning
their tarnished halos scattered 'round my bed
i wish they'd given me some sort of warning
before rushing off where they used to fear to tread

This will change the way I go about my day
instead of drinking  coffee, i'll have gin
i'll sit sipping, wondering if i may
invent some kind of new salubrious sin

With luck they will return to me tomorrow
their shabby robes in colors of contrite
i'd wash their feet to cleanse them of their sorrow
kiss each toe, resist the urge to bite

Dear angels, you have given me this song,
don't wander far from places you belong!

and then it occurred to me
mystics aren't mystical at all
Mystery lies in the mundane,
a dripping faucet of wonders!

Birds can fly!

Water falls from the sky!

Nourishment springs from the ground!

in the glass i see myself
the world spins, yet i stay on

your hand reaches out for mine
as we walk down the marvelous road

It's hard to write
when cat sits on the page
and herds of wild elephants
stomp over in a rage

The magic carpet beckons
let's step on for a ride
fly across the wide blue sky
like kestrels we will glide

I didn't plan to write this
I just let it write me
When words won't flow may
as well go on a rash exotic spree

Shhhh, there's no hurry,
nowhere we have to be
there'll be time,
later,
to be stuck in traffic,
dishes piled in the sink
will be done

all the shoulds that shake us down
shush them
rock them in your arms
it'll be okay, it'll be okay
even when it isn't