In the window of the pet shop
four small faces, lost.
Their owners, sick with worry,
want them found at any cost.

A quad of treasured family pets
roaming wild and free,
unmindful of the panic
they’re causing back in Leigh.

A sausage dog called Mini,
sleek and burnished dark.
She’s likely got a little voice
that is more squeak than bark.

Tinks: a sturdy Staffie,
with a plea on Facebook
praying for his safe return
his people beg you “have a look”

“in your sheds and garages,
or in the kids' playhouse.
You never know who could be there
‘cos he’s quiet as a mouse”.

A grumpy Border Terrier,
Underbitten, rough of coat
“Bill: a much loved dog, we miss him”
in shaky letters wrote.

And, last of all, would you believe
Someone’s lost their tortoise!
He’s been in the family since ‘77
(let’s hope he isn’t corpus).

For pets are no mere mortals,
nor fallible as we.
They’re up there on a pedestal,
in anthropomorphic fantasy.

Then one day they disappear,
our soppy hearts turn wretched.
No stick to throw, and if we did
none to go and fetch it.

On centre stage of family life
entangled in our tribe.
No separateness of species,
always by our side.

So if you’re there, or round about
And you should chance to see
Mini, Tinks or Billy
or a tortoise in his mid-thirties.

Tell the little pet shop -
it’s better late than never -
to mend an aching, wretched heart
who thought their best friend gone forever.

Push off of the cool cement.
Gravity eases his grip on me.
Suspended in air,
I swallow mouthfuls of the night sky.
With stars in my lungs,
I course their light through my veins.
Between me and the moon,
my small world is drenched
in a hushed, wavering silvery glow.
The still, black surface
breaks into a thousand glittering pieces.
I’m told those little diamonds make
the most melodic tinks and pings,
but I don’t ever hear them.
By then, I’m fathoms below—
where I’m enveloped in quietude,
where time is an extinct notion,
where even the heaviest heart
can beat
                    for whatever she chooses
without
burden.

Monk tinks tonight
fine glasses clink
convivial banter
bubble pop blink

in breathing rooms
bit woofed and stirred
the smoke mint sound
we dare exhale

Monk swings about
a bell do ding
the huey blues
bird bops on wings

hips juicy moves
rubby mounds wet ****
slow drum rolls blow
dance steady bump

Monk rocks the house
the clock do tick
me feets be tappin
gonna busta trick

key ******* bounce
mouths all agape
we gettin down
like crazy apes

Monk’s muzik rides
a sonorous beam
levitatin hipsters
to places unseen

gosh groovy tunes
a **** good gig
we all stoked up
Monk we do dig  

Monk played alright
some swingin tunes
Happy B Day Monk
you over the moon

Thelonious Monk
(October 10, 1917 - February 17, 1982)

Thelonious Monk
with John Coltrane
Trinkle ******


10/9/13
Suffern
jbm

ah hear da dog a snorin and da heavy breathin a da wolf
ah feel da wind a blowin and da chill dats brought in with it
  ah see da tings dey creepin to da shadows where dey creach
ah hear da turtle skootin to da den for shelta from da storm
  ah feel a mighty shakin comin out chru da broken ground
ah see a terrible storm a brewin in da distance waitin out its time

  ah watch as tings dey change an no always for da best
ah see da way dey act when dey done know dey bein watched
  ah know da tings dey be doin now dey tink meh watchin
ah see dey know, dey change dey tings dey do
  ah feal da change she comin and comin for ya know dey change
ah can na keep a runnin away des tings ah went an run to far

  meh guess is da was da right ting ta do
meh goin no betray da love dey sho meh
  meh tinks ah done right by him ah wont betray
ah can feel dah silance an da tension in da air
  ah know da time she comin for meh but ah hope she no to soon
ah see whas goin on an fallin down around meh

  ah no goin to pretend no more, des tings bother meh so much
ah no goin to hold my tongue when ah've been offend'd
  ah no goin ta take tings da wrong way any more too much time be wasted
ah got ta find where ah can stole away from da waves of questions raised
  ah feel des tings but can na change dem no more than change shes wanted

  ah hear da dog a snorin gettin after chasen tails
ah hear da turtle skootin to da den for winter warmth
  ah know how what wrong ah've done has come back round
ah can see she been cryin she wares it on her sleeve
  ah can see u no more smilin tryin headed for da bed
ah know da whistle ah hear come runnin o da trouble, ah stay out

Travel with Facebook
to know better  tinks
Travel with twitter
to have big links
Travel with HP
to know better inks
Travel to the world
to solve life kinks.

.
Kimberly Alynn.
born too late, still
after only one breath too soon
the end of May 31, 1986.
I had been the only one who knew when you stirred
when you felt/heard Beethoven and Vivaldi.
I sensed you yearning for harmony,
our futures uncertain in that maternity home,
but could offer you only me.
The world told me I had nothing to give
not good enough, choose adoption
So I entrusted my treasure to a lifeboat without me.
.
But maybe you were here for us;
because the music of the Heavens pulled you back.
Gone, but not yet born.
The clock stopped,
and the minutes would not relent the suffering.
A time of hope, vanished...
a hope of beauty, soundless
and still, Memorial Day
is would-have-been 5, 16, 27 years old.
Your life I carried, your future was my young life.
now always without you in this incomplete world
where I am your broken heart
and you are my empty arms.
.
I am not allowed to say it wasn't-supposed-to-be-this-way
since I don't know what you knew
and your future was only my dream.
.
This one night returns every year
and this house becomes too small.
I ride my motorcycle just to ride,
leaning through the curves up the mountain,
if I could only keep going
the midnight road pure black.
until hands too cold, I stop.
Silence punctuated by the cooling engine, it gently
tinks
and I breathe in sacred cool air.
.
The Big Dipper spills colorful twinkling gems across the valley below.
The mountain curves away above my shoulder,
her massive peak leaning back fascinated only toward heaven's brilliance,
the infinite distance palpable, tangible.
The Milky Way tipped sideways,
starlight pours down, eternally washing over.
Or am I spinning sideways on this small planet
in vertigo of re-awakened grief.
Galaxies so numerous I count them rise,
sparkling as they appear.
Even the mountain is so tiny, telling me,
see?   we are so tiny...
.
pure volcanic rocks, road, and I are bathed in soft light
yet in still perfect cold dark solitude.
Only the road's straight white lines glow.
my road,
yearns up in reflection...  
Tonight I give you memory,
all that I have to give.
My baby girl, you are not forgotten.
A small wind finds my hands,
and my cheek, with its one tear.
.

Look at me and see what I am Not only am the chief,the house keeper the mother and cloth mending dish washing single parent, I am more than book and education more than one nation and My God has shined on me many times,

Cuz He says O sweet child of mines, Look beyond what Men have taught you,Look past wars fought over you,Not me but many have started for the same,

A Woman, That's what I am , I am sister and cousin, Auntie and niece,Daughter and Lover don't bring out the Beast, I am more than a *** symbol,Artist or model, More than a page or chapter You might of started.., More than a notch on ya belt,

I am more than fist pounding on my face, More than you saying it has to be your way! I'm the grand daughter and great step child, I am the wisdom from generations past the voice to history,I am the present and may-hap the future,You never know,

I am slave no more to you or my self, I am Worth more than any-ones wealth,I am courage in a land of lost hope, I am a voice that can't be choked,I am a survivor and A bilingual queen, I am of powerful stuff its more than you'd dream,

I am A giver,hardly the taker, I am the love you may of never know or the special one you let go, I am determined and stubborn,I listen ,I seek and I lean, Life's what I make ,

You can have it your way just as long as you know that I am ME and always will be.., I'm more than submission and More than a follower,

I lead on my own and do what My heart say, I ask not for recognition-unless I'm deserving some, I ask for compassion in a Land it seems there's none,I am understanding and self growth,I am the teacher, The student all in one, Can you understand,

Ya words can't hurt me cuz I am too proud

Even in saddnes I walk with a smile, Ya fist only leave marks now, Ya jealous ways aren't welcomed here, Ya fear has dried all my tears,

The pain you thought to inflict on me is beyond you ,I am out of ya reach,

I am Woman and I do more than roar my back against the wall and look its time to add up the score..,

I am friend and I am desire, I am a head turner,lighting minds on fire..,

A mind that tinks all on it's own,Now don't you wish you was king of this throne?..,

I care more than I need to but do it my way!

I am me and that's

Never Gonna Change!

Always me Ayeshah

i.
i jar spare change for my trip home.
it’s moved away from me recently,
it sleeps across concrete rivers now.

i jar my change for the ferryman,
he will recognize me soon.
i will make this migration often,
and soon he will wink at me when i come to sit in his boat-
he knows what’s pulling me down the river.

and when i come collapse
into your arms,
my weariness will melt away,
wicking away in the warmth of you.

and i’ll be home,
for a while.


ii.
ice clenched between my teeth
i pull away from you
ferryman doesn’t wink this time.
he knows how bitter it is.

iii.
my spare change tink-tinks into the bottom of my jar.

the cold on my skin
is worth it.

summer wouldn’t be as sweet without the snow.

The Flying Illini again
Nichols, Morgan, Tinks, Black,
go up and sometimes come down with it -
Will Groce's job be saved?
Even Lucas, Hill, Abrams, and TCL at guard
can get up there.
Rebounding has definitely
improved for the Illini
over the years
and means so much
It even seems to me to help their free throwing.
The Illini have long been a ******
in rebounding
not so this year
Hear ye, hear ye
The Illinois big men will be.

Her perfectly penciled lipstick
matches the color of the flowers
in the center piece that sits
upon the starched white linen tablecloth
at the restaurant bar
Party banter is in surround sound
Champagne crystal stemware clinks
Silver Lennox service tinks and
“Where did you get that dress”? conversations
strain her ears in the background
And yet, the polite smile on her lips
would have you believe that she is
okay with the vacant chairs beside her
Not wanting to stand out she busily
fills several cocktail napkins
with white wine verbs and espresso nouns
trying to capture the laughter, music,
and ambient light inside the
uncomfortable Cinderella atmosphere
until heading home where
there are no people present to
make her feel so completely alone

Written by Sara Fielder © Dec 2012