Racing with the demon

“Like stones skipped across the surface of the water we are kept skimming along the peripheral, one-dimensional fringes of life. To sink is to vanish.”       Merton’s Palace of Nowhere…James Finley

 

The fires of hell skip through my eyes,

my skimming defies repentant.

The Holy Ghost gallops beneath me,

waiting for me to dribble,

waiting for me to sink.

To vanish from the surface,

to land on the galloping horse

beneath me.

 

inside me

 

white doves flying

through three holes

in the sun

 eyes closed I sit still

in peace

 

 

as well as Yours

I feel

my  Holiness

with Your warmth

 next to me

 

doves flying

through the holes

in the sun

after passing through

the moon inside me

 

 

Wear a hat

There we were, at the end of our life,

never thinking that there was life beyond

what we have lived.

Death was just a distance, or sometimes, it was just

a wish. 

Now, here we are, in love with everything we missed. Kissing each yesterday good-bye

with a welcoming memory

        to begin each new day;

with a smile, laughter, and a sigh.

 

I’ll walk the dog. You make the tea.

I’ll peel the orange when I get back.

Put your pajamas on,

go to the bathroom, I’m right behind you.

Oops, oh ya, I’ll go walk the dog.

Is it cold outside?

“Yes,

Wear a hat”.

 

http://promisingpoetsparkinglot.blogspot.com/2012/01/perfect-poets-award-week-60.html

 

Childhood Innocence

 

Klick klick klatter skitter scatter, slithers slinky

down the stairs. Head first, then in reverse.

Faster, and faster, thumping the stairs

arching, echoing first to last, then last to first.

What does it matter, when at the bottom,

waiting patiently, children giggle in retreat,

finding, snuggled at their feet, at the end,

of what nothing matters.

 

Priscilla

http://bluebellbooks.blogspot.com/2012/01/short-story-slam-week-18.html

Priscilla

It was Saturday night, I just got home from the library, at least that is where I told my grandmother were I would be, but I was really with Bobby. I seldom, if at all, lie to my grandmother. I have known Bobby (we are seniors now), since the first grade. We always ate our lunches together in the school cafeteria sharing either our excitement or our disappointments of the day; and sometimes what was going on at home, until a couple of weeks ago.

When we were walking back from school, my grandmother was coming home from the local corner grocer, and looking at Bobby as she joined us, blurted out “Bobby, what is happening to you? You are turning out to be just another Fat Boy! Good God Boy.” As she shook her head back and forth, then looked at me and said, “Pricilla, you want them lean”, emphasizing the word LEAN.

 He stopped eating with me, because now, he said he was feeling embarrassed to sit with me in public. He still walks with us to school and back but he lingers somewhat behind.

For my eight-grade graduation, my grandmother gave me a pair of bright yellow sneakers, telling me they will help me to skip to the future. I loved them. Then she handed me a bright yellow umbrella, saying you cannot see them but there are wings on this umbrella that will always carry you through a storm. I loved it.

Saturday morning started dark, damp, and missing my good friend Bobby. No school today, so we can’t at least “meet up”…and then it started to pour. A kind of storm for me as I made up my mind. Forget my boots, I put on my old faded, nicked rubber, torn canvas yellow sneakers, then I grabbed the yellow umbrella. I yelled to my grandmother that I was off to the library for some homework that needed to be done.

I stopped at the local grocer to pick up something, anything that would get my friendship back with Bobby. I am going to see him at his house. I forgot my purse, my wallet, my gum! I search my big front pocket found six quarters and a dime. By then I was in front of the grocer and smiling at me, asked if he could help me. I can look very mature and demure, oh yeah.

 I explained my purpose of the visit I was making and wondering about the gift, I should bring…with six quarters and a dime. He reached behind him, put a vase of beautiful yellow flowers on the counter, and said that it would take six quarters for the flowers but not for the vase.

It was Saturday night, I just got home from the library, at least that is where I told my grandmother were I would be, but I was really with Bobby. She was asleep in her chair, half-knitted potholder on her lap, but managed to ask if the homework was done. I told her yes, but before I could thank her again for the skip to the future and the wings to get there in a storm, she was sound asleep.

 

A childhood’s Birthday.

In the foothills of New Hampton

on the threshold of the White Mountains

thawing out last night’s retreat

 

The sun warms the valley.

Reminding me, once again,

The age of a season has passed.

 

But;

 

The morning greets me

with its usual substance,

asking me, with joy,

 

 to come out and play.

 

 

The cold winter morning,

sprays the full sunshine breeze,

past the glistening freeze.

 

I can still feel fall, and hear

It lightly, loftily, taking

It’s humble leave.

 

But;

 

I will follow its signal.

The new footsteps of this season;

of the day, of this morning,

 

to come out and play.

 

Happy Birthday Abe and Dylan

 

Pittsfield NH : The Birch And The Old Mill

 

I am weary bent through the years;

yet I, still stand in memory

of the hope that my growth

becomes important to you.

 

I was boarded up after the Suncook dam

made it’s majestic stand,

giving all of us a chance

to live free or just not give a damn.

 

We did. We are still

looking around us, remembering

why we live here

with hope, and growth, awaiting each new year.

Perfect Poet Award Rally Week 57

 

My garden, my garden

 

my Father, my Son,

my Mother the Holy spirit,

my children,

for this moment is One.

The children stretch their play

along my heart.

Gossiping about yesterday,

whispering about tomorrow.

Gleefully shouting about

Today.

Smiling at my garden

I kneel in prayer.

 

bright as bright could be

The path, in the dark woods, that I left;

 when I first began, when the sun was rising,

was still as bright as bright could be.

The moon was smiling then

showing me the same things

that the sun began.

         

  I left in pain of my first thoughts.

          Heavy and dreary, I entered into the dark,

          even though the sun was shining.

 

          The woods filled with life and scampering

          ignored me, enjoying the light

         of day, and who they are; reduced my pain.

 

   I sat on a rotting stump

   with four saplings by its side;

   hope, in the one that I sat on, that  died.

 

   Gosh! It is getting dark.

   Time for me to mosey along.

   Then, the light of enlightenment went on.

 

What is it that makes the woods so dark?

From my perspective; my mood and blinded thoughts.

Mindless, as I watched the dark lift.

It was only a sliver of a moon

But, I was thankful.

It was as bright as bright could be.

 

between dusk and dawn

(“I only have time, to do what I am doing. I do not have the time, to do anything else, but, to live this life in Joy”)

The Mystical, Spiritual world, is full of good and evil.

Watch your flight.

The first to fall were the angels, promising to catch those behind them.

No one else fell… so their recruitment started from the bottom.

You know, that will never be right;

whatever your angle, despite your dippsie- doodles

and, your impressive, mid-air one-legged, dangles.

Knowing, without a top, there would be no shallow.

Or, is it visa versa? Oops, “skip to my Lou my darlin”.

C’mon, it is no longer an unresolved riddle. This is for real.

Sing the song, from spring to autumn.

The middle of the seasons.

LIKE IT OR NOT, HERE IT COMES;

we feel, there is an up and a bottom.

Desire, happiness, where is our joy?

Perhaps like a sandwich, we will find it in the middle,

            wondering what tasted so good. Oh boy,

here I go, one, two, three, all-ee-all-ee in free…

I am jumpin’!

 

 Geesh, am I, jumpin’ up?

Or, am I, jumpin’ down?

I am caught in a pickle;

from third base, trying

to steal home, ‘but it ain’t there.

See? Nothing in the middle fails. Hang on,

I am outa here! I’m jumpin’…see you later “Harry”!

(I have caught the wind; the circle around the globe,

The heaven that surrounds  

The bottom of the earth. Yikes! I cannot see!

Where are you desire and happiness of my life, as I watch you sink into darkness?

…as I, softly, glide with joy, into nowhere, without you,

between dusk and the dawn.)