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

Feathers flutter.

Opaque to morning light.
Spread full to land
on open fingertips.

The barest suggestion of
nature's design
in the form,
the flutter,
the timid acceptance.

Life indeed is fragile
and awesome,
in its truest sense.

Stark against steel gray sky
Steeples rise sharp
Grazing lowered clouds
of hazed vapor.
Hallowed halls echo
ancient steps treading
remembered paths.
Whispered breaths
of voices once raised
in praise and worship
play soft on gentle breezes
in the folds of time long gone.

She rises from a limpid pool.
Silvery beads cling to flesh
Clothing her in brilliant shimmer.

Lovely shining tresses spiral
Down over slim shoulders
Framing her beautiful face.

Eyes of moon silver, lips of rose
Grace her fair visage.

And I ...

I can do naught, caught as I am
in the dazzling light of her rising.

I sit listening, patiently recording,
Stories of sorrow, pain, and violence.
People expelling the details of their lives,
Seeking assistance for their cares.

Explaining the past in magnified details,
The Voices torturing their minds,
The Visions disturbing their hearts.
So many unbalanced, unstable people.

Victims to past trauma or mental disease.
Attempting to manage their pain and thoughts,
To find a path through.
To find the answer to improve their lives.

I sit explaining, patiently to each,
We cannot change the course of their lives,
It is up to them.
Only try to give them the tools to cope.
Its a long slow process, never a quick cure.

My reward for each encounter, small though it is,
A smile, a look of relief, a look of hope.
Makes the pain endured, the risks taken,
Worth the effort put forth.

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.

Teardrops fall gently,
gently to the earth.
Grief soaking into the soil
that holds those loved
ones. Their lives given,
given by choice
to a greater cause.
The call of their country,
their country's freedom.
May we, one and all,
Honor them this day
And always.

My thanks to those
that serve.

Raw feelings of heartache spill from my eyes.

Keening cries fall from parted lips.

Body-wracking tremors of sorrow grip me.

Unable to move.
Unable to embrace.
Frozen in time.
Frozen in place.

Sifting my memories for sights, sounds and scents.
Of one cherished, one held so dear.

And, finding these shreds, these threads of memory,
able to fashion a ragged bandage for a shattered heart.

The rain streaks the window pane
heavy and thick,
falls as a burden upon ears
aching to hear the turn of a key in the lock,
the scrape of leather on the wooden slats of a porch.
Its silver slick shine reflects the stillness.
Damp musty odors rise from the earth
where undisturbed it waits for footsteps
belonging to one who bears the rays of hope and life,
the very sun itself in heart and soul.
And so, time passes....

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.

Silently gliding through
invisible trails
In search of quarry
most rare.

Her bare feet
leaving no prints
for the earth
to reveal her passing.

Her eyes, deepest amber,
search endlessly
until they light upon
her gilded prey.

Notching a silver arrow
from her woven quiver
she takes its life,
and in return
she gives thanks
and blessings
to her prey
and the gods
that provide.

Emerging from this makeshift shelter,
I look about at the wicked cold day,
Wondering how long I will survive in this bleak world.

I have tussled with my demons,
Made peace with myself,
And accepted my lot in life.

My ragged clothing, barely covering me,
Warmth only a dream,
Decent food a luxury,
Knowing my family as I am now,
An impossibility.

The shrill jeering of children as I pass by,
The looks from strangers,
Judging me in my degradation.
None realizing that I was once They.

I could justify feeling superior,
When I had a home, a family, a job.
A sense of security and a mind and body unbroken.

And now, watching from the other side,
I wonder why I had so little compassion,
So litte empathy, so little mercy.
Just as They do now.

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.

I never knew there was
a special person out there
just for me.

I never knew he was more
than a dream.

I never knew he could make
my heart sing and the sun
shine.

I never knew that one look,
one touch from him could take
my breath away.

I never knew, until
I knew him.

Setting sail across the windswept plains,
Air rushing by, as does the land below,
Wings arching, Slicing through the thin air,
Covering distances unknown.

Searching always for that magnetic compass,
Guiding lines of power encompassing this world.
Soaring over lakes, seas, oceans.
Driven by instinct every spring and fall.

Escaping the winter winds rushing down from the north,
to warmer climes, less frigid temperatures.
Returning yearly to mate, and raise their young,
to continue the cycle, ever moving, ever changing and unchanging.

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.

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. ;)

Traveling the hollows,
Of this deep, damp, mountain,
Seeking treasure in mother earth,
Placed eons ago in times unknown.

Lanterns shedding light,
Illuminating the dark depths,
Casting elongated shadows,
On the dark tunnelled walls

Soft gold metal woven in tendrils
Through ponderous tons of granite.
Given away by the presence of
Shards of broken quartz,
Shining dully at my feet.

Why is this golden metal so precious?
Why would men give their lives for it?
Indeed, beautiful, rare, mysterious.
But I find myself captured by the reflections,
In these quartz crystals.

Not only quartz, but diamonds,
Emeralds, rubies, sapphires.
Heated and compressed over millenia,
Awaiting discovery in mother earth's,
Deep dark recesses.

Brought to the surface,
Faceted, polished, mounted.
Dazzling, sparkling color,
Eye-catching, elegant, mesmerizing.

Jewels.

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.

Xenophiles see it all the time.

The transubstantiation of matter
causing hysteria among every culture.

One alchemical shift from lead to gold
and you have empaths weeping over asps,
telekinetics dropping things on fairy's heads.

A tiny fusion of atoms and the next thing you know
satyrs are dancing with dingos, sphinxes are doing the two step.

Who knows what the next time/space shift is going to bring?

Sigh...........makes for a long day at work.  Ya know?

She made her last voyage.
Rode the waves across the seas.
Delivered her cargo, then set sail
As proud as always.

Until the dark seas grasped
Her hull and sundered it.
Spilling death into her safe harbor.

Tossing her time and time again
Against jagged rocks without reason.
Until sounding a mournful cry
She sank into the depths.

Her crew lost, as was her captain.

And now decades later, her
Broken rusted bow washes ashore.
Surfacing once more, a fine ship
Tortured by the sea gods.

Even the torn edges of metal
and pervasive rust unable
to disguise her proud lines.

A scene from Romeo and Juliet:

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Sitting down by the pond the other evening,
Taking in the sunset and listening to how nature puts her children to bed,
I happened to notice my amphibian friends.

Now, I love sounds, loud ones, soft ones, booming, and whispers.  
Got a right fetish for listening to nature.

As I sat there entranced, my ears started picking out different frog calls.  
You know, them boy frogs trying to sound all handsome and friendly to get a wink from their girlfriends.  
And not just the frogs either, ya know, there's some toads out there too.

I was hearing big ole Bullfrogs, boomin' louder than a drum in a parade.
Tiny spring peepers, with their loud high pitched sharp peeps.

There was Fowler's Toads out there too, sounding like ole Henry stuck a knife in his wife's chest, and she screamed for her life.

Them there grey tree frogs, well they are somethin'.  
Chatterin' like a monkey missin' his bananas.

And don't get me started on those green frogs, boy howdy, they can twang with the best of em.  
Right funny if you don't mind me saying.

But, that trilling those American toads do, out shining those short trillin' Western Chorus frogs evra time, is somethin' else.  
Why they can hold a note pert near a full three minutes.

Never can tell how rich wild life is around ya til ya sit a spell and take a listen.  
You may not see 'em out there, but shore nuf, life's a going on.

******
a ****** of crows
****** your cousin
a ******
is it a mob, a crime, a vacant thought
depends
on how you view

mur der....

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.

Age is slowing my best friend.
His ears no longer catching the faintest hint of rustling in the brush.
His fur not so golden red in the sunshine, fading white.
His legs not so strong, no longer bounding over the land.
His eyes not so sharp now, clouded with age.
His energy not so boundless, tiring easily on short walks.

He has shown me how to love unconditionally, trust effortlessly.

During his life he has shown me love, sorrow, joy, fear, patience.
My best friend, has blessed my life in ways I never knew he could.