Leah Oviedo Nov 21

.Digging for my roots,
Through fragrant soil,
Rocks scrape my wrists,
Moving deeper,
Entangled in the maze,
Rich with the past,
My ancestors are lost in the dirt,
Their names forgotten, but they are there in my DNA,
Marking me with their gifts, their trauma, their choices,
I am not one,
I am many.

11/2017 by Leah Oviedo @ ImpowerYou.org

Time fled accross existence
And I followed. . . without exception
I felt compelled
An experience I know to be universal
Amongst us
So,
I know you do it too
Saturating your own perceptions
With you
Shared in a common time
From an inward point of view
Different but in the same time
As me
So, I'm certain you understand
In your own way
From your own place
Hunting your own sights
Taking your own view
At different speeds
Across existence
Chasing after the same time
(Inventing shared existence)
In your own way
In this moment
We may understand the other
If only briefly, a fleeting moment
Perhaps our last
As we knew it
Until the next one
Until the next time. . .
So as I know it
We all share in something
In our own way
(it's always time)
We understand
(relatively the same)

Sleek dark hair
Highlights of auburn, color of fall
Stern lips
A look of austerity in the dark russet eye
Skin lighter than my own
The smaller wrist
Large eyes
Faint deepening crow's feet
Nursing knowledge
Small, short, slight, petite, and strong
Maternal vanguard
Matriarchal
Beautiful and earthly
Scorpionic elusiveness
Her unused canvas
Frequent Homegoods purchased
Shifts decor in the livingroom like a Feng Shui practitioner
Laughs at the absurdity of modern horror movies
Smells like bath wash and too much perfume
Smells of my childhood
Smells of my innocence
Paperbacks of Hugo and Austen in boxes in the basement
Paperbacks of The Symposium and a biography of Marx in the basement
Secretly likes to cook
Culinary explorer
Gastronomically open
Culinary door opener
Very little circle of friends
Outspoken
Austerity on the small mouth
Austerity in the small mouth
Conviction in her voice
Soft graphite in her voice
Has a lisp sometimes
The slight overbite(?)
Immigrant parent
Unnaturalized citizen
Reminds me of fall
Reminds me of everything
Reminds me of very little at once
Life-teacher, one of many
Protective
Over-protective
Pushy
The way her hand moves on her tablet
The way her voice sounded during a lecture when I was a child
The way she used to hug
Closet full of shoes and clothes she rummages through when she's going out
Meticulous cleaner
The way her voice sounded when she tried to make sense of me
The way her voice sounds
...

List poetry. An experiment in profiling a close loved one.
JAIA Jul 30

I wonder sometimes do even you care
My whole entire life have you been there?
Watching my every move and guiding me
Or are you judging me and laughing at my stupidity
You're probably in heaven thinking "Who is he?"
Yet you're flying free
And I'm grounded like I can't watch tv
I'm mentally sick and I hide it by smiling
But I ponder on what you'd say to me
If anything at all
Do you like movies? Do you play basketball?
Do you like cookies? Can you cook? Can you draw?
Just some questions I want answered
Are you a good dancer?
Are you like me someone who doesn't know their place?
And wouldn't see it even if it was right there in their face
Someone who feels alone in a crowded room
And can only ponder about their own doom
And how the essence of life is in fact pointless
Or are you an optimist? An opportunist with unlimited confidence
Who can work a room like a prostitute or a con artist
How do you feel about the institutes and the school system?
If you were given life what would have been your mission?
I bet you're just as lost as I am from every angle
But I still love you, fly high my miscarried guardian angel

Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!
Clive Blake Jul 3

Ann Cestor lives alone,
No relatives has she,
So it seems
Iron-ic-ally,
That she is a root …
Without a tree!

Saint Audrey Jun 18

Instructions unclear

Uncommon is not a word I often choose
Over zealous usage has left it maladjusted
I feel too frustrated and abused
Fear the fearful and opiate the transmute

In terms not so blatant

Put it on the back burner
Pack it up and go home
For a moment
Calculate the risk in murder
Before you know you'll be encroached

You're killing it

And yourself as well
Although I'm not convinced you see it
I know your will is right, heart straight as an arrow
But strung up on the wrong bow

And swiftly you'll be deadly
buried in  the things you used to know
People die and turn to snow
To bury you alive
And leave you feeling cold
It might hurt to take a knife

I know

Your back is riddled
As it goes
But hold on tight
I see the rope
Is burning bright
But flames drive back
The dreary nights
And warming up, going up in flames

Avoid

Blowing up, reaching out in vain

Endless as the days
Ticking clocks all look the same
Hear them spelling out your name

Is this the way it stays?

...
Jim Davis Apr 4

Could anyone, ever, ever, imagine
While struggling in moments of
Life, in this dark hardening world
Any greater tragedy to know of
In a life lived, yet always nearly lost
Than a soul's abandonment of love

Boyfriend, girlfriend, flirts, flings
Lovers, mistress, wife, husband, all
Can suffer (without seeing an end)
In the unwanted loss of a dear love
But such love, is always found love
Always a chance, of another to find

Really, such is such a little big thing
Laid alongside a meant destruction
With a loved one's hate of only kin
Care of same given blood, all gone
A sadly lost, gifted blessing, of love
Not unlike the gift of a God's love

Is it even possible, a mother loving
Not, a sweet daughter or brave son
Or a jealous sister's hatred of sister
Or a son's coming to rage, in
Twisted hate of a living father
Whose life's burden came crushing

Or like the very first two brothers
Cain, with Satan's new seed of hate
Sprouting a considered cause to kill
Or in Euripides' play, Medea's
Wrath filled hate of Jason leads to
Bloody felicide of her own spawn

Naturally, death comes for any one
Destiny's fate, followed a sin by two
But all loss of a blood born love
Of which there is only ever one
Arises from a most unnatural mind
Or possibly, unforgiven sin of one!  

©  2017 Jim Davis

Only a coincidence or vibes, hitting on Hello Poetry's theme "Unconventional Love" for the 4th day of National poetry month!  #npmlove

From Wikipedia
"On average, according to FBI statistics, 450 children are murdered by their parents each year in the United States .[4]"

"In the United States, homicide is in the top five causes of deaths of children, and in the top three causes of death in children aged between 1 and 4 years old.[7] A direct correlation has been identified between child abuse rates and child homicide rates. Research suggests children who are murdered by their parent(s) were physically abused  victims prior to death. This is often seen as an indicator of domestic violence.[8]"
Temporal Fugue Dec 2016

Sitting out 23 minutes
pondering heart and soul
glancing at the clock
22 minutes, to go

It never fails to amaze me
at each and every turn
glancing at the clock again
15 minutes more, to burn

Boredom at the apogee
as time slows to a crawl
can't keep myself from looking
8 minutes left, that's all

Seeking any distraction
with nothing left to do
it's really not that funny
3 more, and I'll be through

Dashing out the door
speeding in the parking lot
crawling down the highway
now time, is all I've got

It's like heading out to work, vs coming home from. :D
.
The Nada Oct 2016

A free verse sonnet
To someone I miss the most.
One of my favorite people in the world
I remember all your giggle and franticness
Your envy and affection
Your attention and appreciation
Your generosity and magnanimity
I am mesmerized by your feelings and prompts
Years of silence longing.
Miss the way how you mind
Still remember how you stare
First man who says I’m good in singing.
These instant words are the words
I doubt if I can ever tell to you, personally
I Love You Dad!
When you left I cried
Not because you’re not here anymore
But because there’s NO MAN,
Will treat me like you did.

The Nada
Temporal Fugue Oct 2016

She's been marred and scarred
streets making her hard
wearing her plastic tiara and crown
mind not quite there, always on guard
Just another homeless, a downtown beat down

He used to own his own bed
nowhere now, to lay his head
cloths all dirty, greasy, and brown
wielding a knife, so he won't end up dead
Just another veteran, a downtown beat down

The penthouse, defining of power
works 24/7, climbing the tower
alone in her thousand buck gown
moving at a million, miles an hour
Just another corporate, a  downtown beat down

A job and a place of their own
wife and two kids, never alone
in bills do they drown
fear not paying the loans
Just another suburban, an around town beat down

Out on the farm, he had to quit school
dad in the ground, he's nobodies fool
raising his kith and his own
doing his best, obeying the rules
Just another rural, a small town beat down

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