A Moth

A moth
with five
speckled dots
lingering atop
otherwise
see-through
wings

The Vanity Plate

Well, I wasn't feeling all that well yesterday, nothing physical, but just one of those days we all get from time to time.  Besides the feeling itself, it stinks that it happened to happen on a Tuesday, where OLN is in full effect over at D'verse.  I've definitely a lot of catching up to do but that's cool too, gives me a few blocks of excellent reading to do, rather than all packed into one night.  But anyway, please check out the link and get your read on.

This piece totally came out of the blue, actually didn't have anything written, and while still feeling a bit like I did yesterday, I didn't think I'd come up with anything for today either.  But luckily while out this morning, which I have to thank Jello for that excursion, (I'm so addicted to Black Cherry Jello btw), I happened to see this White Cadillac out on the road.  I'm not particularly a Cadillac kind of guy, but what struck me here was the license plate.  Thanks.

I.

Silky smooth, her

White walls rolled

Ever slowly—flaunting

It’s bedazzling view,

Emanating in freeze frame

Ever slowly—flaunting

The freshness of its lustered cream,

A lathered richness bathed to skin

Ever slowly—flaunting

From the sparkling shine of chrome

to a pimped-out trim that’s all it’s own

Ever slowly—flaunting

It’s a wonder, how eyes could still see

Anything beyond the aesthetic glow

Ever slowly—flaunting

II.

But looks aside

I could not help

focusing my attention to

inches below her trunk

Ever quickly—flashing by

Here, it was,

that her vanity glittered forth,

a plated licensing of gold,

reading, “GR8 HAIR,” in all one word

Ever quickly—flashing by

And yet, the first thought that came to me,

did not pertain to the myriad of potential possibilities—Why

this choice ?—for the reading surely would—provide the implications

so easily perceived—as to an individual’s occupation and/or personality

Ever quickly—flashing by

But so fast the flashing would pass, to find

me pondering in curiosity—wondering if this person also possessed,

A plate that reads, “NOT SO GR8 HAIR,” all in one word,

For, you know, those other days, the ones you wish to just go away

Ever quickly—flashing

  

Tumult's Kin

tumult’s kin

angry. angry again

soft. soft-peeled

pare of rind

I don’t know what I need to know.

I don’t need to know what I haven’t learned

I know what I don’t know.

Dry-eraser chalks the walls.

bliss.  bliss from a far

and through the windows,

out past the field

daydream drifters flutter still

At ease in the tall grass

giggling.  giggling with glee.

being so close, watching the playful

nature within the day-to-day gestures

of adolescent faeries

Well, the Prompt D'verse provided yesterday got me looking through some of my older Fairy Tale/Folk Story pieces I've written and from that, I had the inspiration to write this one, probably due, in part to some kids down the street just enjoying this unbelievable and extremely rare stretch of weather we've had here.  A string of 75 degree days in a place that doesn't typically get over 50 for another month or so- That, in itself is something resembling a fairy tale setting. Anyhow, thought I'd write another one.

Stories, Lovers And Trouble

If you’re looking for a story,

Then you’ll find one,

It may not be worth sharing,

But you’ll find one

If you’re looking for a lover,

Then you’ll find one,

It may not be what you had in mind,

But you’ll find one

If you’re looking for trouble,

Well then,

It appears you’ve already found it.

Which in itself, is a story too

The Pigeon

From a row of cedars,

I, the wandering cynic, am now

Watching the last of the saved

Break bread

After rite is well past overture

I stand alongside the marbled walls

To which felt so smooth,

An impression ringing surprisingly loud

Something over me,

Happened then,

And I kneeled upon

The thinnest of carpeting,

Hands then met, in that certain way,

Head tilts back,

Eyes affix, at the disjointed portraits scaling tall

That was when I heard the call

A pigeon in the upper most arching beam

It was far, but it did seem,

This bird was scared, at peace, yet alone, without direction