|Part of an exclusive series of hand-painted hen eggs by me of my own designs that are only 2 1/2" tall.|
A morning chill, the scent is in the air.
The males all lift their heads w’ nostrils flared.
It is the season poets congregate
In open fields to meet and take a mate.
In joining pen w’ pen to no more roam,
To propagate in pairs and make a poem.
The strongest bucks of verse will be a catch
That poet doe’s of equal skill can fetch.
All through the spring the ink of love fulfills,
To flow through veins of passion, creeks & rills.
The poet bucks who lost are feeling hurt:
“I came to write and got a lousy shirt!”
There’s one who’s limping still w’ bloody face.
He looks around to see who’s left to chase,
And bellows loudly at the female strays,
“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways!”
I know we both have been preoccupied,
You probably most times have often said.
It’s not your fault but something we can’t hide
Twix pages that are not meant to be read.
But if we can’t talk, by then, what I want
Is my hollow choc’late Easter bun’ny.
I gotta have it, though that’s what it’s not.
I’m type 2 laughing, sad, ironic’lly.
For chocolate I’ll do almost anything,
The hollowness inside mimics the pain.
And sweets can never full exile its sting,
Like plunge into my thigh like Novocain.
So please fill up my basket to the brim.
I’ll never ask for anything again.
While hoping for his call on phone I write,
There’s sound of rain & warmth from vented heat.
I’m coil’d up on the bed bathed in soft light,
And leaves that scatter chatter down the street.
The flicker of a bulb, the wind in flight,
My mind is playing tricks like rising damp.
The walls where shadows watch in dead of night
Keep distant never coming near my lamp.
The Muse is still’d while other thoughts are there,
The gusts of rain are keeping him from speech.
I pause to rest my eyes and tousle hair,
Before he comes I’m sleeping out of reach.
And then to crawl in bed between my hips,
My words for him have dried upon my lips.
Entre vous et moi
Between you and me —
I much prefer
A naked space between,
The air to circulate
Amongst the flesh
Everything we touch
And when it comes the
Time to close in tight,
Agreeable to form
Will it begin to
Open other space
To languor leisurely
In damp and flow,
And so will come
Another phase of sex
And us —
The aromatic arts
Of hidden depth
Inhaling all the
Vapors humors draw
To stimulate the body
To open spaces wide &
He always knew what made me blush.
I’ll always remember his laugh.
He made a chair to rock me in.
This carpenter I won’t forget.
When he watched me take my first step,
I could run before I could walk.
He gave me a real microscope.
I climbed up a tree to watch birds.
He’d take me along when he’d fish.
I’d be on deck fishing for bait.
He gave me bikes, Mom gave me dolls.
I’m Dad’s little tomboy for keeps.
And as I grew he was the world
That said I could be anything.
He always was there for us all.
And as he got ill I was there.
He was the one larger than life,
Tallest of trees, in memories.
He cradled me in his strong arms.
I warm’d his cold hands as we pray’d.
He’d wait th
The passing ages raise mountain ranges
To lofty heights beyond memory,
Making greater the distance between
River and lake and honored pastures.
And every year the geese fly across the
Deep blue morning of a dying autumn.
Hunters in the bulrushes blinded by
The airless sun hearing them pass overhead
Where the seasons await the spirit flute
Of their calling, that knife a brilliant sky,
Following the ghosted pull of fate
Approaching cliffs split fine as hair
Of the agile mountain goats who leap
The narrowing gap that grinds closer,
Siphoning winds of the ancient instincts
With their irrepressible forces,
Or so the abandoned totems
Of talking trees have always shown.
As tribal shamans teach that it is the
Noble way of their kind; a thousand-mile trip
In an unrelenting, unchanging migration,
Where only the bravest will find their way
She takes one in each time
When she does an alley walk.
A night-time random rhyme
Off a beaten city stalk.
Her evening time is near
After getting off from life.
The alleyways are clear
From the glare of urban strife.
A streetwalker by trade
Might’ve helped pay ev’ry bill,
But she’s a cook and maid
Helping those with what she will.
And so the stray of whim
Gets hot coffee and a bath
That’s free of charge to him,
And a night with her in bed.
A Music Box Dancer
(a nursery Sonnet)
An earthbound sentiment to what I’ve seen,
With eyes & lips that paint me in a trance.
Cerebral balance floating in between,
This face that’s made of plaster, as I dance.
You twist the key so up on toes I spin,
My graceful arms raised high to catch the sun.
The silence tells of broken heart within,
That never shows the pain to anyone.
To turn in place on endlessly ad hoc,
I tell a secret only known to me.
In finding naught to envy would you mock
That I could never hear the melody.
For once be what an honest girl is like,
A plastic Cinder’s wish at stroke of night.
I haven’t been able to say much yet
To your response, a confession of sorts
That has me speechless what to say, I fret.
You suddenly now exist in my world ;
With a comment that begins as regret.
I sit up and blink at what follows next:
I’m a kid in a sweet shop who dares you
For samples of everything on display,
Of candy cane, choc’late & car’mel chew.
A sailor on leave, in port, feeling piss’d
From tankards of ale he’s yet to consume,
With hostess on knee he hasn’t yet
And tossing my horns ‘midst all of the crash,
A bull with cash in an arcade of glass,
That knows it’s his fifteen minutes of fame.
A stay-at-home mom of three under age
Who hears a loud tapping at the front door
As babe in her arms throws milk on the floor.
It’s Publishers Clearing House, and a crew
With six-figure check as big as a plank,
With chance of a lifetime... what do I do?
I go to your site and read everything
Just on the front page,
You were the boy who ventured to
The depths of my ocean summer’s
Intoxicating dream of you
His feet would touch my very soul.
You’re the one who let me believe
In everything I couldn’t reach,
While underwater you would breathe
And built sand castles on the beach.
A magic time you bathed in waves,
To pulling seaweed from the foam.
Supine you’d float throughout the days,
Till eve’nings when I’d nourish you.
A lovely life while skies were blue,
The sun like dazzle to behold.
The clouds were distant far from view,
And we were safe no breeze blew cold.
A summer’s bliss till it grew old.
The scuttled clouds the sky that churned
From bitter wind, no longer burned
The brilliant sun that was eclipsed.
You dallied in my ocean near,
We loved among the dappled deep
To covet truth we held so dear,
Now treasure lost where dolphins sleep.
Wordsworth @ Woolworth's
A graceful mother as she walks the aisle
And I with her, a child of six that knows,
In Mary Janes, w’ braided hair & bows.
My eyes inhaling stars in single-file
Of perfume atomizer amber hues
As patrons are attended by their muse.
A perfect manner’d staff that walks the tile
By youthful slender femme of college bent.
Who come to me & spray my wrist w’ scent
That gives a paying guest a sense of style.
I live & breathe a time when we can play
‘Department window-shopping Saturday’.
Until then, I go dance the rising mile,
The heaven’s flight of escalator dates
As Mom will gaze at patterns on the plates.
We lived beyond our means & still she’d smile
It seems she wanted china with no frills,
But I keep wishing plates with daffodils.
She shopped for less at Woolworth’s for a while
There was no dress code at the five-&-dime,
My small allowance let me pay on time
For saving pennies still could be a trial.
This girl w
(The) First Thing in the Morning 101
( an erotic Sonnet )
The first thing in the morning when I wake,
I see my lover sleeping at my side.
I sink beneath the sheet his shaft I take
Between my lips and in my mouth I guide.
It’s first thing in the morn’ while dawn is dim,
I hear his shallow breath begin to stir.
I feel the after-warmth so close to him
From tangled naked bodies where we were.
The first thing in the morning is for when,
While everything around is tinted blue,
The scent of love within the lion’s den
We’ll wear upon our skin in all we do.
That we will keep repeating one on one,
The first release of day is never done.
Less A Day Ago
(a double Sonnet)
There is no telling if I’ve really grown,
And parted ways with sentiment of trust.
The first day certainly when I left home
To forge ahead my future in its thrust.
You followed me my little sister self,
And tried to match my pace w’ ev’ry step.
To tag along my sprite my faerie elf,
Our memo’ries of time you safely kept.
Those first uncertain years I never flinch’d,
For my unfailing courage came w’ youth.
Towards priv’leged immortality I inch’d,
You held your tongue & kept me from the truth.
In hindsight should my age help me to know,
For I was younger, less a day ago.
The opportunities I could not see
In spite a closer distance I was brought,
With reckless choices often taking me
Away from lessons you & I were taught.
My little self, how could I’ve been so dense?
In lessons of the heart I must have skipped.
God pass’d the hat to give me common sense,
But it was lost in transit when they shipped.
Virgo (Rising) @ Starbucks
In black and white.
Like cup of Pico Dark,
its evidence in limbo
stretches his senses
waiting in a niche,
the early wake
with bags of
roasted whole bean
In glass case display.
He holds a vigil to the
sound of ghost’d speak
passing time & fail
to piped-in jazz,
sipping @ coffee’s
Thru filter'd mind.
Like a glowing sunrise
from laptop Apple face
that steels his watch
in an anxious chill
like an epitaph,
sans a voice
sans her live warmth
Fashionista!: You knew she would!
I’m Fashionista, boys, I have arrived!
I’m wrapp’d in jungle print from head t’ sash.
How lovely that the paparazzi’s thrived,
Be sure to get my best side when you flash!
I’m all a flutter, ask me anything,
For I’m an open cage I offer here.
You see the cuff links that I wear as bling?
Each pair a conquest, and a souvenir!
Excuse me, boys, my Uber is at hand.
You’ll help me with my bags so be a dear
I’m Belaire Motel 6 right on the strand,
I’m famous in New York for my panache.
Oh driver take us somewhere nice to eat,
You look as tasty as I’m sure you are.
You hardly make a profit so I’ll treat,
I love to dine al fresco in the car!
I’m free today, I haven’t any plans,
It must be jet lag, though I came by bus.
I’m sure you heard of me in spite th’ bans,
I’m rich I’ll pay your way don’t make a fuss.
It’s such a lovely day, th’ breeze, th’ sun,
Technique is Heaven
I don’t recall when I’d forgotten how.
One night it came to me while still in bed.
The heavy quiet, static in my head
That told me ‘take a picture of yourself’.
You know, a selfie taken privately,
At least that’s what the static said to me.
And so I did or, drifting, planned to do
As sleep was setting in, “just for a few”
I murmured, and then put it on the ‘shelf’.
But when I woke not knowing night or day
I tried to think of something glib to say
But shut my mouth my ego’s calling shots:
You think you’re pretty slick, I told myself.
I guess I am, look what I did, but when?
I haven’t been with anyone but you.
You still retain the things you knew back then.
“Back then”, a time when I was free to be
Sex and Politics
Ahhh, dirty sex and politics,
A combo never getting old.
To beat the devil at his game
And leave him standing in the cold.
But tell the truth, it’s all the same,
The Church & State can’t do a thing
When White House staffers get their kicks
While flying high Route 6-6-6.
The sex is bad, or should I talk
From unused prophylactic shock.
When Stormy weather rocks the ship,
She otherwise is well-equipped.
The overuse of eyelash fringe
Takes more than that to make me cringe,
If all that payoff’s meant to be
Cosmetic plastic surgery.
The Donald’s worse from what we’re told,
So Miss, if I may be so bold,
Before you cut him to the quick,
Does Trump have a 2-headed dick?
A darkness is witness’d; forces await,
Who ne’er knew that they were blind’d of sight.
Although, ‘twas always their destiny, fate,
Had wandering mind, to seek out the light.
A world, a universe within this blight,
Of which their minion birth’d cannot compare.
The twilight that they know both day & night,
The stars send them clues to breathe in like air!
Shrivel’d pale orbs, useless were, over time,
Space travel’ing from the brain through the void.
‘All is lost’ is not the slope that they climb,
To champion that life shall ne’er be destroy’d.
Instead of hatred you think that they know,
The force instead is filled with empathy.
A gift to human thought begins to grow,
And loving that goes beyond chemistry.
( Articles 1 through 18 )
is merely a #
My dungeon has
made in the States.
you won’t get from me.
assume to Me.
the willow switch.
Cat ‘o nine tails.
If you’re a good boy,
the sweet spot.
No safe word
in your mouth.
what you get
when I say.
where you are
if I say.
your hot piss
distant wings out to sea
the loneliest sound ever heard
the call of a gull drifts
on the grey of early morn’
I walk the dunes between
misty hillocks of sea grass
when incoming waves exhale
dark hair in my eyes
that scan the wandering coast
and the figure of a girl
alone and barefoot
straw hair & wind-swept brow
pale eyes peering
soften’d in acceptance
passing each other
turning every few steps
watching the other walking
with breakers sighing
beach sand draws and pulls
at my toes and sinking feet
that make their way
shallows hiding secrets
I bend at tide pool’s edge
crabs startle and freeze as I
peer into her barnacle grave
my own deep slumber
In middle school it was, as I recall
When I first saw him on the playground race.
A band of other boys were chasing him
As he was galloping the sand pit run.
I know it does, but yes, you heard me right,
This braying boy was slapping on his haunch.
That’s why I swear I heard a pony shout,
A shrill bone whistle as he whoop’d about.
The next time I was walking home from class,
I hadn’t any money for the bus.
Before I knew it there he was again
With gravel flying, barefoot, as he passed.
It's funny how much time would fly till when
He eyed me at a Pow Wow barbecue.
And circled ‘round me to the beat of drums
To show off on the day we finally met.
In senior year there was no time to waste.
He told me he had joined a month before,
Enlisting in the U.S. Army Corp,
So we would only have that night to spend.
So we went to a Taos Motel 6
Where we would absolute each other's first.
And that was last we were together since
While he was in a place that he called
“Strength does not come from winning. Your struggles develop your strengths. When you go through hardships and decide not to surrender, that is strength.”
When I’d been diagnosed,
It was the first string of
Medical jab & sting
Over the years
In longer worms
From that first recognition.
But it was the first one, as it
Fled the doctor's lips
Like a gypsy moth.
His stolen words,
Crude & mute,
That flew in my ear
With rice flour wings.
Before then, I was immortal,
Afraid of nothing nada nil.
Even spiders that spin
Caught in a web.
Denying wee things.
Now I had tiny creatures
Secretly growing inside me.
I'd rather have had a bowl of
Goldfish or a puppy my own
And make it my friend.
My friend would be
In dog years by now,
Taking care of me instead.
But that's just it. I am still here
And my friend never was.
Yet an influence to me
In many ways
As is a dog prone,
To give my pause paws
When it’s one of those days
( a Sonnet )
The pinks of upper desert where I go,
The season slakes its thirst ‘ere mesa bleed.
When brash santanas barrel bending low,
To scorch and turn all into tumbleweed.
But come a blight the wind of colder days,
And raises twice the altitude of hush.
A hidden veil to bring a new moon phase,
This constellation arc of whisper’d rush.
And never was the nape of sky so deep,
From where I watch and see a universe.
To be all this and nevermore to sleep,
But dreams are how I’m able to traverse.
So clear the ‘scape it lets in all the light,
The atrium of sky, its starry night.
(a Sonnet of betrayal from long ago)
I scan galactic coastlines that reckon,
Stretching endlessly through time warpage thus.
For how your pale crusades lull and beckon,
As I seek parallels in quietus.
While my own floats free near your fingertips
With each passing nano second's death knell,
Doub'ling the length from my scarified hips
Where a flaming phoenix once rose and fell.
There never were past lives serenity,
Since the way I think there are no seashores.
Nor siren song's echo’d meant so for me,
Why ergo I'm drifting further from yours.
And there's no more time for night's passing ships
To distant equators. Make sail! Eclipse!
He Never Saw Me (At The Club)
He never saw me come to him
With music smoke rings in my hair.
Where others mingled on the rim,
While sitting at a table there.
So unaware how women stalk,
To cross the room where he was at.
With tabby stripes of stealthy walk,
As if to slink more like a cat.
But here I was beside his chair,
A color strobe lit up my face
Just as he turn’d look’d up to stare,
And so did others in the place.
I moved & leaned to let him guess.
His eyelids lower’d from the scent,
The sparkl’d mesh of cocktail dress
And hemline raised to please a gent.
I saw his interest start to pique
And let him have some time to think.
He pull’d me to him on the sneak
As bourbon spill’d from toppl’d drink.
I felt my chance to dance had come.
A waitress came & went just then.
A glass he’d ordered, coke and rum,
And held it to my lips, “Say when”.
Don’t think that I’m that kind of girl,
I said, and brush’d his drink aside.
Each night of overcast protection
When the air is filled with coastal haze,
Light of fair orb’s rising reflection
Is seeking while hidden from my gaze.
She graces each day, ev’ry ev’ning,
Hoping notes of my love she will find.
Sending tears of stars while believing,
Praying for my words the sweet’st kind.
I peer in the mist for my ember,
As my thoughts tell her listen be still.
On nights you think I won’t remember,
But of course, dear child, I always will.
My love, Moon’s affection, I’ve missed you
As the tides in me still ebb & flow.
How can I cease doing what’s nat’ural
While your Mother’s embrace tells me so?
For until there’s nothing left to scribe,
Till the restless tides give in, and die.
Death By Cheerios
The honey-nut variety
From half a dozen of its ilk.
Just bone dry without any milk,
No almond, soy or coconut.
I honestly can’t say the words.
I’m eating it like raisin turds.
There goes one flying by my face,
I tried to toss it, missed a space.
I’ll never find it on the rug,
These bastards do me like a drug!
And 6 months later, petrified,
I’ll find it laying where it died.
It tried committing suicide,
With other brothers mummified.
It’s really gross, I’ll relocate
Just ‘cause of something that I ate.
I’ll catch my death because I froze
In my car eating Cheerios!
Black Market Friday
It’s ev’ry month I come collect my pay
For po’ems I submit each thirty days,
With bottle caps’ & buttons’ colors gay
I bank inside a jar and hide away.
And when it’s time I add a little more,
Then jog into the DA general store
To parlay w’ the clerk what I can score
Who smiles & asks me what the rush is for.
I say there is no time for me to waste,
Apologizing for my shopper’s haste.
I need to buy a toothbrush I misplaced
To rid my teeth of food I still can taste.
But tell me of your specials for the day
I can avail, and then I must away.
“I’ve china glass that chime when breezes sway
And paper parasols that give you shade.
Huarache sandals made of hide that stray’d,
And compasses to help you find your way.”
But do you carry anything in stock
That’s off the record, just in case I gawk?
“There’s lingerie made of grape-flavored mesh,
And Cuban stogies sent from Bangladesh.
Gossip 'Cross the Table
(With a smattering of Alphabetical Alliterations)
THE BARNSTABLE STOCK & TRADE
(Founded circa: 1822) $1.25 US, $1.62 CAN/a copy.
Circulation: 8,703. Add 12 more if you count the cardboard settlement on the river bottom under the 4th Street bridge.
Today’s forecast was set for hot. This evening will be less hot.
There’ll be a quarter moon on the wane. Tomorrow’s first light will be at 5:32AM.
Bringing you the latest in our daily evening special edition.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Some of you might still be wondering why we went exclusively evening last month. Here’s the most recent example:
• Liberty, our luscious transplant with the overbite lisp who moved here fro
Loosen’d bondage, silken laces,
Sin in hallow’d satin places,
Tender kisses tasting traces
From her lover’s oral graces.
Drifting dunes like sandy beaches,
What he wants of her he reaches.
In the scent & shade of peaches
Is the sermon that she preaches.
Leaning forward gently touching
Trails of salty tears of weeping.
Render’d lover I am dreaming;
Moon has secret, am I sleeping?
As his breath meets w’ her sighing,
Pressing closest, deepest finding;
Yes, my love, you have me flying
As the moon, with us, is rising.
"They tend to confirm one in one's own conceit -- unless they praise what you yourself don't like. Also, they make you self-conscious about your virtues -- just as when you praise a child for some natural charm. Also, they create an underground opposition: applause is the beginning of abuse. Also, they deprive you of your own anarchic liberties -- by electing you into the government. Also, they separate you from your devil, which hates being observed and only works happily incognito."
--from Ted Hughes to Anne Sexton, 1967
Hi, hon! As part of PoetryOD's Review Competition, I'm going to be reviewing you--as an artist--here in the comments!
"Jade-Pandora is a true haijin master with a flair for mixing the sensuality of an intimate relationship with the subtle romance of unbridled, untamed nature. The amount of imagery begot from just three lines is enough to keep readers enchanted. With a keen eye for detail and creative phrasing, Jade-Pandora's gallery is sure to keep you coming back for more!"
Actually, it was a prompt that I got to give him for my catching his 25,000 kiriban: "Don't wish the dead back to life.". It was a true challenge and the piece he wrote in response inspired me to give it a special spot all its own here on my page. Please enjoy, and visit neonxaos with some love.
SkyriseThe land is flaming,
a poem written for & given to me by my lovely friend literary-love ...
with the abandon
of a gypsy,
the golden bells
on your wrists
jingle and ring,
jingle and sing
a resounding hymn,
one that draws my feet
teaching me to dance
with the abandon
of a gypsy.