"weatherproof" poems
Treated the plywood to be weatherproof, jigsawed to size base, sides and roof.
Applied non-toxic wood glue,
clamped pieces 'til sturdy and dry
not forgetting an entry hole through which birds may fly.
Took time with the birdhouse,
hung it snug in a tree.
If it will be used for the winter
I'm waiting to see.
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 2:19 PM UTC
Mounds of sheets and piles of pillows
(It's slightly hot in here!)
Sitting up, I brush my head against
The drooping blanket roof;
Silver light and sounds of rain and wind
Add to the cozy cheer
Of curling in a blanket fort, completely
Weatherproof.
Our classes have been cancelled, we're
Advised to stay inside:
We'll don our robes and steep our tea
Against the stormy cold,
And take advantage of this unexpected
Break to go and hide
In blanket forts and make believe
That we are five years old.
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 12:57 AM UTC
**The fairest hair, peroxide blond
beer shampoo feeding the roots
primped and pinned with paperclips
blown and set as candyfloss sticks.
Hydro-pack cream erasing the pouches
colourful lashes, stuck to the lids
with copyright brows by electrolysis
both almond eyes are now penciled in.
Lines of life filled with putty
trowelled in layers, foundations built
delicate cheeks, powdered, pampered
rouged and shaded, giving them youth.
Clinical lips, Botox injected
tattooed outlines guiding the brush
the budding artist colours by numbers
pouting, she paints in weatherproof gloss.
Turtleneck sweater hiding the wrinkles
genuine paste, drawing the eye
both purl and knit-one inside the jumper
pulled and snagged by glued on nails.
High heel shoes, stretching the sinews
of Lycra clad legs, holding them taut
a girdle of whalebone hugging the figure
gently molding, the form to behold.
With grace we age throughout the years
a time filled life, craves respect
hairs of grey are marks of distinction
an occasional blemish, a beauty spot.
Tiny crow's feet, signs of good humour
experience of life, lines proudly worn
for with laughing eyes and glowing smile
who need wear a plasticine face.**
... ... ...
Apr 30, 2011
Apr 30, 2011 at 12:15 AM UTC
-prologue.-
*I've been wearing a weatherproof coat
for what feels like
1,000 years,
& if only I could know
the rain & the snow,
& how a storm in the evening feels...*
-1-
a test, a test, a time to--
learn how to breathe (again) to
trust the wind to
exist in the dark-
(the boulder crushes,
crumblecrumble
a wave crashes
in&out;)
wake up--
open your eyes &
there's more to life &
there's more to life than happiness sometimes-
(the clouds in fast forward,
crackcrack
a thunder clap
boom&roar;)
-2-
come back inside
my mother ordered, as the wind began to howl
**it's getting late,
& I would hate
for you to be caught in a storm.**
*let me sit beneath the aspen tree,
let me feel what it's like to be struck by lightning,
for it's better to be hurt & reminded that i'm alive
than to be safe&bored;&lonely;
inside.*
-3-
there's pain & there's anger,
long roads & u-turns abound.
A time for what was never expected
& a time to be left unfound.
because darkness exists for a reason,
if only to push us to crave the light
there is beauty in brokenness, glory in downpours,
& falling feels good sometimes.
-epilogue.-
(eventually, the tempest subsides,
breatheinbreatheout
& the gale becomes a comforting whisper
remember&rest;).
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 5:22 PM UTC
To brand new horizons, across the vast wide sea,
The God to whom I'm praying, believes so much in me.
He says that I'm not barren, I'm the fruit of His own vine.
But sometimes I feel badly, for I fall so many times.
Into this great abyss, of lies and twists and turns,
so sadly was I walking
down the road that made me burn.
To bright and new beginnings, my candle shows the way,
I follow in the footsteps, where saints and angels play.
Surely we're not lonely, though it seems we need so much!
I will try to tell you strongly, my dear, that desire is not a crutch.
But don't think that desire, that want that's always there,
can be satisfied with worldly things,
those things that can ensnare.
To lovers who are joyfully invited in the truth,
who wait for true love's fulfillment, in a castle weatherproof.
They know the bounds of where they walk, they know they way is hard,
But having faith in things unseen, can often help at large.
For whom but Him can he be for she? Or him for her we wish?
That’s just they way the world goes ‘round,
Like a beautifully swimming fish.
To romping around with new curtails a-flying,
our heels kicking up in the breeze.
Little foals on the inside, we neigh out some horsie-pride
With laughs floating up high, giving breath to the summer trees.
Let your hair down and out, dance like tomorrow’s the end-
because everyday is a gift.
I know not the time, but if it’s this mountain we climb,
why don’t we strive to reach the top?
Together, He said, so I felt safe in my head
knowing that I would never He drop.
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 7:07 PM UTC
Eyes: Stars. I can’t help but wish on them, holding my breath, standing on tiptoe, hoping. They promise so much.
Arms: Branches and vines. Reaching, wrapping, holding. You break what you let go of; you choke what you keep.
Legs: Thunder thighs and tree trunk calves. You frown like it’s a bad thing, but you’re strong; you’re steady, sure, solid. You are a forest and a storm.
Laugh: A flash of lightning. An instant of blinding, dazzling music in the midst of my storm.
Shoulderblades: Bookshelves. My head is a journal, thoughts spilling over. You are strong enough to bear even the heaviest of my words.
Tongue: A forest fire. I still have a second-degree burn from the first time you told me you loved me.
Hips: Hills. You are mountains and valleys, and I want to take a walk and get lost in you.
Feet: Anchors. They team up with gravity to keep you here. And so you stay.
Chest: A strongbox overflowing with treasure. Your heartbeat is the song your whole body sings, kept in time to your pulse, flowing through your veins.
Ribs: Boards on a ship. Weatherproof, waterproof. This means my tears (saltwater, too) will not ruin you when they fall onto you.
Hands: Morning glories with green-veined leaves. Opening, closing; beautiful every time.
Mind: A maze. You’re a puzzle I can’t solve and a line I cannot rhyme. You are never going to make sense, and I love that.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 9:11 AM UTC
Faster than any sneaker
Quicker than a naked streaker
Dignity with a rubber sole
But with leather enforce to crime in behold
No Running Man Sole that meets its match
But for the record you won’t be able to catch
A solid weatherproof shield
The identity of Running Man Sole I can’t reveal
He is a super hero who is well concealed
Running Man Sole who takes commitment to crime
Don’t even think about dropping a dime
The idea is too get rid of the slime
As Running Man Sole moves swiftly into the sunset
Crime is at its match and Running Man Sole being the best bet.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 9:50 AM UTC