Typed words flow
Across the screen.
Cursor blinks
seen, unseen.

Electrons racing
through the wires,
Transporting meaning
as word inspires.

Sensors picking up
the textings.
Users taking in
the sextings.

Social networks
come and go.
Human beings
move so slow.

Time's reduced
to microseconds.
Attention spans
too slow I reckon.

A flurry of furry freaks

Rambunctiously ransacked

Garish Gary's garage.

And for the trouble they caused,

Garish Gary garotted

them, one and all.

Misted nightmares seep through crevices of my poorly armored mind.

Seeking entrance to give wretched life to multitudes of hidden fears.

Terror-laden visions gain fodder from life's dark abyss.

Suppressed fear and anguish roiling beneath the surface

Inflict anew the pain and failings of one's existence.

And so, I battle to fend off the failure and loneliness accrued.

Clawing my way to wakefulness in the scream-wracked night.

She felt his hands stroke her heaving flanks
Sensitive fingers brushing the dampness.

She leaned into the hands of this man,
Her friend and master for the moment.

Then she whinnied loudly and galloped,
To strut among the jealous herd.

Eyes of brown
Heart of gold
Sending love
I've been told.

Across the waves
between the vibes.
Written on paper
by the scribes.

Affairs of love in
history gone by.
Lover's seduced
by blink of eye.

Romeo and Juliet.
Cleopatra's Antony.
Guinevere and Lancelot.
And no less, you and me.

Loved and lusted
Sweet as wine.
Stories told
throughout time.

Love goes on
and on my dear.
Open your heart,
put away fear.

For love's soft vision
may well come.
When unsuspected,
heart strings thrum.

Take a seat and push with your feet.
Feel the smooth, rocking glide.

Pump your legs hard and fast.
Hold on tight to the chains.

As you rise higher, ever higher
Reach out and touch the clear blue sky.

Rush through the air, defy gravity.
Lean back against the forward motion

And feel the sheer
                             joy
                                   of
                                       being.

Sitting in this dusty old attic
listening to the shingles flapping in the wind
I flip through a dog-eared book from my childhood.

As I skip through the pages,
I look up and notice the fine inlaid
carpentry work of an old chest.

Going over, leaving prints on the dusty floor,
I lift the lid.  With reptilian slowness
a lazy fat spider edges away.

Inside this trove of ancient treasure,
magnificent finds of days gone by.
Mementos of a honeymoon, a parachute jump.
Gramma's best biscuit recipe.  A photo of
Sam the hound with spittle running down his jowls.
A picture of a babe at his mother's ******.

A permutation of these tucked away articles
give meaning to a life well and truly lived.  
Closing the pages of these treasures I
wander away to watch my grandchildren
make memories of their own.

hand
                    over
                                    hand

step       by step

crossing this wretched foot bridge

large          g ap  s                   loom

don't look down
         down
down

towards the scrabbling masses
reaching up
                          up
                                                 up

to
tear you from your perch

head up
      hands on the rope
         your feet walking in faith.

only then,

will you reach

your
   heart's
        desire.

The face of time shows no age.
Merely continues its forward motion.
Marking movement of life and loss
The hands tick ever round and round
Never looking back, always forward
What is, only is, in the moment
And then is not.

Here lies my body
my life-long shell.
Worked through the grind
and finally fell.

Lying postmortem
on this cold table.
The reaper calls,
"Come, you are able."

An undertaker prepares
to hammer the stones
Of my final resting place
sepulcher for my bones.

Resting in pieces
all through the years.
Time washes away
lost memories' tears.

© 2011 Judy Ponceby

So, let's see, cheeriness personified.
****** if I can think of anything depressing.
Again and again, my mind goes on ever and ever,
In search of that infernal lightening rod
To which the dark and dreary are attracted.
And yet, butterflies and billowing clouds,
erupt magnificently in full bloom.
Hiding in the nooks of my cranium
fluffy bunnies and poofy flowers.
Anything really to while away the hours.
And so I write about grand battles,
frogs on crack, and ladies in your lap.
Seems this perky cheeriness is infectious....

A wink and a nod to my friend Frank. ;)

Aloft in my helium balloon
I watch the cloud formation.
White puffs of water vapor
Play scenes of battle simulation.

Of great dragon wars
and vast rebel forces
Colliding with hellspawn
and gladiators with horses.

Soldiers impaled on billowing swords,
Dragons in full embattled flight,
Brash vivid images up in the heavens
Lead to victorious imaginings this night.

Deep and resonant crying
Calling out forlornly
into unfamiliar
ocean depths.

The eerie echo of my voice
sounding through the sea.

Seeking solace in the familiar
But naught familiar here.

Lost at Sea.

Strange waterscapes passing by
my massive form.

Gliding easily, powerfully through
unrecognizable ocean currents.

Calling, calling, calling.

Searching Endlessly.

Rising to breathe from Earth's sweet air.
To take in the brief moment of transition
from water to air and back.

Rolling over the surface,
my tail a flag of despair,
my dive into deep crevasse,
Desperate.  Lost.  Alone.

Searching, searching for my home.

I make the perilous trek

To the front of the class.

My palms dampen.

I pray not too look an ***.



I feel nauseated from the

Butterflies behind my navel.

As I look out across the faces

My voice turns to gravel.



Raspy words escape.

My voice unable to recant

The terror that shakes my words

As I address my audience.



I realize I have many kindred

Among my audience, but

This does nothing to temper the fear

Of Public Speaking 101

My mind blazes with an inferno of music.

Notes created to play

Point, counter-point, one to another,

To flame into blazing fury.



Tiny tinkling notes crash

To low sonorous tones.

Metallic vibrations lead to

Unearthly bursts of melancholy discord.



Not for the pretentious musician

But for the appreciative of symphonic quality

Such that would ignite a Phoenix.

An ogre set out to have a
     feast one day.
Dreaming of all the creatures
     he would slay.

He'd have bowls
     full of trolls.
And fairies buttered
     on rolls.

He'd eat hairy mountain
     goat coats
And fattened up ducklings
     full of their oats.

He'd chomp on legs
     of forest elves
And pickled gnomes feet
     from his shelves.

This fearsome young ogre
     planned quite well,
Except for a troublesome
     oyster shell.

It landed quite wrong
     deep in his gullet.
And never more was heard
     from Ogre Trullet.

Hammer hard
Fire bright.
Pounding metal
With all my might.

Orange gleaming ore
Glowing craft.
Shaped by hand
Quenched by draught.

Hell's own heat
Makes air singe.
Burning embers
On fiery fringe.

Muscles ache
To the bone.
Making old
Bellows moan.

Shaped with pride
Of hardened steel.
Hone the blade
to razor feel.

So miss the old HP.  This is SOOO difficult to navigate.  How many days has it been and I'm still lost, and its not like I'm not computer literate.  I think the improver got lost in the details and forgot to look at the overall picture, the designer knows what it means to click on something and get the expected change, why if this must happen is there not a help area or a navigation document or something???  So very frustrating I can't concentrate on what I loved to do.  How sad.  I haven't been able to write anything new since these changes because this is where I was comfortable writing, right on this site.  :(  Very unhappy to see many new found friends leaving as well. I posted something I wrote 6 months ago just to see how it would work, but nothing new....sighhhhhhhh.

Pitter patter, oh the clatter,
Whatever could be the matter?

There I see before me
merely inches from my toes
A smiling mouse eating cheese
and sniffing with his nose.

Dare I scream, or should I laugh?
This smiling mouse incites
no fear, no spite, no dread,
But quite instead delights.

For there he sits upon his haunches
Smiling sweet and knowing.
Silently now nibbling slowly,
For all the world, just a-glowing.

Could such a creature
make a clatter
Sounding like the earth
would Shatter?

I know not what he thinks
in his mousely way,
But I believe he smiles within
Laughing at my dismay.

Reaching down to touch his cheek
with his gaze upon my fingers.
I touch that sweet, knowing face
and on his countenance linger.

He makes me think of times gone by
of younger days and different times
When life was simple to define
And love once reigned sublime.

Sweet moments shared
As time goes by
Bringing love again
To a heart once so shy.

Flaming colors shine again.
Never knew such a clatter
in this dark drear world
Would wake what was the matter?

My Thanks to You Mousely one
For bringing home the shining sun.

Six inches shorter.
Old as the land.
Snow on top.
Ice in the joints.
Light blurred vision.
Spring turned to winter.
It's a wonder I made it this far.

A scene from Romeo and Juliet:

Romeo, Romeo, Where for art thou?
Deny thy father.......
Oooops............THUD!

Curling up on the sofa
my favorite poet's work in my hands
I sip from my wineglass.

My eyes traveling the lines
written so carefully
to elicit feelings and visions
in the reader.

The orange scruffy cat
cuddles up on my lap
sensing me relaxed
and in need of a friend.

Eyes closing on sweet visions,
I lean back scratching behind the cat's ear
and slip into dreams of sweet
whispers and longings....

deep inside the folds of a brain gone awry
lies the myriad broken answers as to why
one should abide by bondaries given
lest one step into territory unshriven
motes of darkness sparks of flame
leaving no one without blame
burnt offerings brought to the fore
useless meanings given by the score
to mindless chatter building tension
unable to voice a word of intention

Bright flashes of red
Give away the Cardinals.

Chick-a-dee-dee-dee
from the capped visitors.

Warning! Warning!
Shriek the Blue Jays!

Loud as a siren
our tiny wrens.

Crowned with a point
the titmouse displays.

Dressed to the nines
the juncos present before a storm.

Sparrows flock about
White crowned ones too.

Nuthatches scampering
like the squirrels around the limbs.

Brown creeper so shy
round and round the trunk.

Mockingbird flashing white on the wing
singing multitudes of songs.

Crows hold caucuses
along side the road.

Whirring wings buzz
Hummingbird zips on by.

Feathered friends on the wing
Speak to nature's diversity.

Standing there surrounded by jackals
I look up into the one friendly face
And smile, though I have tears in my eyes.

He smiles gently back, uncertain what is happening,
And with my smile he seems reassured and returns to his work.

The jackals close tighter about me
demanding their remains.
Unable to produce them, having never had them,
I leave them unsatisfied in their defiance.

Heading for the door, feeling them lagging behind.
I feel a great weight lift from my shoulders.
Regret seeps from my eyes, leaving those who knew I cared behind.
But realizing it was a position unsustainable for me.

And that smile from him remains fixed in my memory.
Knowing he knew nothing of their ploys and plans
Knowing the work I did, the care I gave was seen,
Was appreciated by one who matters.

The jackals continue their work
Keep the wheels turning
Only they are missing that single component
That represents what they claim to be about.

Compassion for their fellow humans.

This aviator alone in his cabin
traveling back through time then.

Riding a zephyr to Venus
Contemplating his genus.

Glancing sideways at his bottle
He pulls back on the throttle.

Spaghetti-like wisps of mist
Blurring vision during the shift.

From space flight to ozone light
Coming in for a landing! Hold Tight!

Oh the enjoyment
of full deployment
in lines of unemployment.

No more paper,
To cut a caper,
Might as well go ride a tapir.

No more phone calls
driving me up the walls
Ringing dinging until my skin crawls.

Freedom is my new motto
Gonna drive down to the Grotto
And have me a margarita until I'm sotto.

Aardvarks and Applesnarks,
filling in between the quarks.

Scratching and scraping behind the door.
Shuffling and snuffling all across the floor.

I hear them tapping, hear them scraping,
wonder where they've gone a traipsing.

Aardvarks on the move,
Applesnarks in the groove.

Looking like land sharks after the ants,
Make sure you don't get one up your pants.

When you said hello, God smiled.
When you held me close, God smiled.
When you spoke of love to me, God smiled.
When you touched my heart, God smiled.
When you were patient, God smiled.
When you were funny, God smiled.
When you were kind, God smiled.
When you looked beyond the surface, God smiled.
I have been blessed by God.
And so I smiled.

Mitochondria generating the necessary energy
to graze my fingertips across your zygomatic arch.
Feeling your breath quicken to almost hyperventilation
as desire fills your eyes.  Blood pounding through your heart
containing red cells, white cells, fibrin, plasma, life-giving oxygen.
I brush hair behind your ear and feel a quadrigeminal leap
in the need to hold you close.

The sensuous pressure of a diamond necklace
Being slipped around her neck sent tremors down her spine.
The finest jewels gracing the lovely piece
with the brightest clarity and sparkle.
Simplicity itself shining forth,
glowing from body heated precious metal.
Looking up into his eyes she sees the consternation there
as he realizes that she outshines even this in his eyes.

During my second trimester I felt like getting some fresh air.
I went out cycling through town in the warm sunny day.
Observing the comings and goings of people all around.
The flower cart on the corner, lent a lovely lilac scent to the air.
The street preacher was shouting out his testimonials,
trying to recruit believers to his cause.
Further on as my pedaling took me, I saw a group of boys.
They were pantomiming their favorite rockstars.
Strumming the air for all they were worth and
Jamming to the silent music in their heads.
Down the block past the Bakery, smelling of cinnamon buns,
was the museum.  My favorite place to stroll on a quiet day.
The gregarious doorman always wished me "A fine  day, Madam!",
as he ushered me into the foyer. He always wore that silly hat that makes me smile.  
And, of course, he kept an eye on my red bicycle by the door.
Making my way through the corridors, observing the sculptures, paintings and artifacts.
Wondering at the archaeologists dinosaur finds, mounted above and behind the glass.
Finally, on to see Pandora and her ill-fated decision to open the box.  
Letting forth into the world all manner of toxicity.  And then, again, opening the box
she set Hope free so we could cope in this danger-laden world.  
Ending my museum tour, I contemplated my coming child
and what he would find to make him cry or hope or love
in this world, as I slowly pedaled through the spring infused day.

Celestial characters play across the bedroom ceiling
as the fire's last flickering coals lay dying in the ash.
I lie here, drowsy, covered with the quilted blanket.
The alarm having gone off an hour ago.
I remain huddled in the warmth of the bed
the cold air sharp against my face.
Dreading the launch from warm solace
to the biting cold of reality.
Wondering who in their right mind
decided wood burning heat was
a good idea?
Being ardently opposed to the use
of gas and oil I can only blame myself.
Deciding the trouble isn't worth it
to climb from this fortress of bliss,
I pull the quilt closer and close my eyes.
Then the telephone, ringing, ringing, ringing.
I wonder how many times it will ring until they give up.
Six, seven, ten times.  
I really must get an answering machine someday.
Or maybe not, as I smile to myself and sink
further into my feather tick mattress,
putting off the day for as long as possible.