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 Apr 2015 Mary McCray
Joel M Frye
"and who might you be?"
he asked in a voice
hahdah than a newenglandbed

"just a fellow poet who was read
your poems in fifth grade
and fell in love with words"

"a )poet(?  why of all most the amazing
things on earth would you
want to do that?"

"it never was a want"
NaPoWriMo day 14.  An imaginary conversation between a master and an obscure to be sure online poet.
 Apr 2015 Mary McCray
betterdays
goodnight .... old girl,
goodnight, to you,
you quiet house,
you blessed home.

are you glad to see
another day done?
within yourself,
your hidden recessed places
are you sighing in relief
as we settle safe in our beds.

your present loves,
all accounted for,
sleeping within your teak
and nail embrace.
or do you prefer,
the drumming of our feet,
the hum of activity,
of when we are awake,
and bustling and bumping,
about your frame?

or is it best when we leave you,
silent and alone to contemplate,
in the sun and wind on a work day? my lord, the secrets you must keep, the lifes, that you have held close behind these old walls.

you must groan and cry,
with the weight of some memories, yet, others cause you to smile and sigh in near-miss relief.
you have stood strong and sturdy,
for almost one hundred years,
in one form or another,
your girth has expanded,
with the growth of family,
from farmers cottage, to three bed,
with study
and nannexe out the back.

you have been
all but knocked down,
rebuilt, reworked and restored,
to former glory.
you have withstood,
the element's rage
and time's insipid attempts,
to shift you, from your place
upon the cliffshead.

you have, and do,
do well, to hold us
all within.
and now,
just before i sleep,
i want to thank you old girl,
for the way, you keep us all safe.
 Apr 2015 Mary McCray
Joel M Frye
General Tso, rice,
shrimp eggroll, two potstickers,
*** of jasmine tea.
NaPoWriMo day 12...slight case of burn-out setting in.  ;)
 Apr 2015 Mary McCray
Joel M Frye
whispering words not yet created
humming all forgotten lines
the unborn, the unfinished
cradled in loving arms
the arms that hug the sleepless
and hold off desperate pursuers
apropos of nothing, comes unbidden
as you work, as you drive, as you sleep
at the worst times possible
nothing handy to scribble down
dictation of the gods
whispered in words not yet created
NaPoWriMo day 13.  A riddle poem...oompa, loompa, didgeridoo...
 Apr 2015 Mary McCray
betterdays
banana driven
to drive one bananas
backseat driver
lodged on one's back
insipid thief
taking bite sized pieces
of one's soul
leaving you feeling less
than whole..
confused about one's role
grinding, prancing,
either way can't stop dancing
riddle-raddled fiddle-faddled
muddle minded ....
listening,
to it's whispering....
takes a terrible toll.
prompt :
write a riddle poem...
notes: the answer to what am I?
the monkey on one's back....
. ..but then you guys already
knew that.
 Apr 2015 Mary McCray
Joel M Frye
The table set,
the stars are aligned.
Each bezel refracting inward
girdling your soul with a halo of light.
Even lower facets form a temple,
a pavilion displaying the
elegance and focus of
the culet that
is you
.
NaPoWriMo day 9...a visual poem.
What oozes out
                             (between the lines)
the scent of shaving,
your lean leg,
those dancing eyes,
waffles.

What can't escape
                                (the boldface type)
the door that slams,
your heavy feet,
dark eyes demanding
waffles.

What remains
                          (the words that blur)
a broken dish
your cracking wit,
my steady hand, now
waffles.
NaPo 4/9
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