a seed
that’s all it takes
just a seed
and some dirt
and some water
and eventually
a tree will
grow where,
once, nothing was

a seed

a seed
that’s all it takes
just a seed
and some death
and some tears
and eventually
fear will
grow where
once, nothing was

Time can be measured in
Days and months
Time can be measured in
Kisses and hugs

Time can be measured in
Tragedies and pain
Time can be measured in
How many lions are tamed

Time can be measured in
Clouds in the sky
Time can be measured in
Tears that I cry

Time can be measured in
Tests taken
Time can be measured in
Plates of bacon

Time can be measured in
Promises broken
Time can be measured in
Words spoken

Time can be measured in
Ticks and tocks
Time can be measured in
Seconds on the clock

Time can be measured in
Various ways
Time can be measured in
Months and days

Time can be measured in
However you like
But my favorite measurement
Is the melting of ice

I have a personality for every occasion
If you want extrovert my voice I will be raising

If you want quiet
I’ll keep my tone light

If you want rude,
listen up *****

If you want crazy
Just call me Daisy

If you want a bore
I can make conversation a chore

Whatever you want I’ll bring along
Inside I’ll be singing my own song

Penning naughty poetry

fills me with childish glee

pushing away boundaries

religion pegged on me

writing myself free

sickness or
cynic i’m not
sure

see, there are these
pictures on their wall
happy family and all

smiles so big, eyes so
cheerful

but all i see is disaster
in the end

maybe i’m jealous,
maybe it’s a sickness,
maybe i’m a cynic,

you pick

really
i thought i was being sold
time share

white suit, black tie, easy voice
clean fingernails and a wedding ring
laughed nervously and never made eye contact

i offered him a cup of coffee
he declined
so i sat down and said
go ahead, sell me on whatever you are selling

that’s when began to talk about heaven

standing up he looked down
i grabbed a bottle of jack and a glass
sat back down

that’s when i began to tell him about hell

his hands were now shaking as i told him about
the time outside my sisters hospital room i said:
**** god
and my mom said
don’t say things like that
and i said it again

he gently interrupted and asked if i
believed in his lord

no, i said, and even if i did,
i’d still tell him to *******

he got up and left, not looking at me once

i didn’t have any cash on me anyways.

He takes out the trash, or makes dinner

thinks he’s cleaned the whole house

he’s not capable of being quiet as a mouse

full of self-praise

himself, he amaze

selective hearing and speech

sometimes hard to reach

never practices what he preach

loveable and incorrigible

he’s not interchangable

I offer a few quiet
words under my breath. (1)

“I wish you a tongue
scalded by tea.”(2)
“I was born
of the fist. The hot Irish
Temper.”(3) “I am a master of Escape. Show me a body,
I’ll show you an exit ramp.”(4)

(For,) I want everything
to call me night.(5)

This is the dream where I play
God. And the front door opens(6)
In lakes, floating
logs ignite, burn. All the
fury is finally here:(7)

Once wayfaring strangers(8) as tall as steal as the New York Times(9)
that once they sang from our dark street (10), the song goes: Heart.

Ribcage. Envelope.(11)

______

(1) Adam Falkner, Poem for the Lovers at Pickerel Lake, http://friggmagazine.com/issuethirtysix/poetry/falkner/pickerel.htm

(2) Jeanann Verlee, Guilt, Not Grief, http://www.wordriot.org/archives/4780

(3) Jeanann Verlee, The Brawler, http://www.radiuslit.org/2011/04/09/radius-roger-bonair-agard-jeanann-verlee-adam-falkner/

(4) Joanna Hoffman, On Learning to Open My Eyes, http://www.pankmagazine.com/three-poems-37/

(5) Kallie Falandays, If Morning Never Comes, http://www.pankmagazine.com/two-poems-75/

(6) Benjamin Sutton, Notes from the Daydreaming, http://anti-poetry.com/anti/suttonbe/

(7) Jenny Sadre-Orafai, Treasure In Timber, http://www.pankmagazine.com/two-poems-74/

(8) Lauren Yates, The World According to My Heart, http://usedfurniturereview.com/2013/03/20/the-world-according-to-my-heart-by-lauren-yates/

(9) Robert Gibbons, These Mean Streets, http://www.poembeat.com/fall2011/RobertGibbons.html

(10) Michael Lauchlan, Unseen Larks and Immeasurable Intervals, http://www.thrushpoetryjournal.com/march-2013-michael-lauchlan.html

(11) Leigh Philips, Dear New York City, Learn Gentle, http://www.thrushpoetryjournal.com/march-2013-leigh-phillips.html

(*) Jeanann Verlee, Good Girl, http://www.thrushpoetryjournal.com/january-2013-jeanann-verlee.html