The Tragedy of the StickertreeOnce upon a time, there was a tree. The tree was special, and it was alone. It lived with its mundane brethren and watched life parade around it. In its youth birds tried alighting in its branches, but they did not stay, and in time no animal came near the tree. One day, a young woman came to the glen by accident, for it was in an obscure place, and no man had been there and cared enough to tell of it. She spied the tree, the special tree, and sat beneath it; she let go a heavy breath and slept beneath it. When she awoke, she felt as though a whole night's sleep had filtered through her, and she returned home, light as down on the breeze.
For years, the woman would come under the tree to rest. She was a teacher, she was, at a schoolhouse nearby; and though she was gentle, she was under great stress, for the children were an unruly bunch. She was glad to live a spartan life, for it was her dream to t
BlueBlue11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Saxophone smooth in a three-piece suit
enters Blue - cool and suave, disdainful
to those of duller class - the crass
beiges and browns seen down the street
and around the town.
Electric, Blue glides bar-ward, in charge
and smug with martini charm - rhythmic
in conversation, his words slide
like the saxophone ride he came in on.
Red can't leave him alone.
He presses convivial keys, playing
the spectrum with a smug smile -
It's an old game with new names
and people to mix with. He smirks
his way to Ebony.
'How have you been?' and all that jazz,
just the casual quips and usual digs
of the typically hip, tripping
over tongues and each others' ego.
'Hey, gotta run'
Over to Green, and the game is on:
Name drops, topic-hops, the usual
shoptalk of performers at play -
Plucked strings sing a telling tune.
Green leaves with Envy.
Saxophone smooth in his three-piece suit,
Blue waves like the pacific ocean, breaks
the last ice and serenades the senses
with a warm smile directed at the party.
the heart, foldsthe heart, folds10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The heart, is an origami fold.
Emotions spooling miles of thread
Dangle me from:
The apex of a leaf [with a thousand veins to spare]
Half a moon [still flooding oceans not with tungsten spots]
Window panes [broken of its glass holding together dirty fingerprints]