The Family moved from Virginia to Oxford, MS, in the summer of 1967. This was well after the “ Battle of Oxford” race riots of 1962; but it was all the town folks could talk about. Dad bought a house nearly 20 years after William Faulkner’s “Intruder in the Dust” was filmed in it; yet it was all our neighbors talked about. A run down behemoth Victorian that belonged to a long lost era. The house even had a slave quarters listed as a selling point; which was all we Damn-Yankees from Virginia could talk about. To eleven year old…
reflection: perhaps if I write the reflection first the poem will come. I saw the topic two days ago and thought Yay, piece of cake and Yay a happy one. I have walked so many dark roads of late responding to these challenges. Digging through the archives of 50 plus years of writing trying to refresh, write new, be interesting, truthful… I am exhausted and exhilarated in the same moment. And a little addicted perhaps to the “penny for your thoughts” operating model of this platform. This will be filed under “Screams of Conciseness”
The poem does not come for…
She wore a black velvet gown
long and shimmering in the dusky light
filtered through the tall polarized windows
too pale skin looked sallow in the limited uv spectrum
the dress looked nearly blue, nearly green, and almost purple
— walking through the room smiling at the guests.
Plush black skin of velvet parted over hip bones’ ridge
calling attention to her tiny tiny frame.
arms looked lost in the long swag of blackness engulfing her. …
never been a cow,
blindly walking behind you
the path too narrow
never been a sheep
no herd-ness to let go of
the crowd moves, not me
nor zebra neither
uniqueness but not really
mirage of safety
claiming to know best of all
never welcomed me
was it really choice
or lack of invitation
this herd rejection
no need to let go
of something I never owned
a need to conform
but must learn to feel
compassion for those who need
Ironically I choose a poem style that forces extreme conformity to a 5–7–5 syllable pattern…
If the center is the void
the vast emptiness
does it call out to be filled?
Nature abhors a void
but what’s the difference?
both a space with no air.
Is the call of the void
as defined by the urban dictionary
an insane desire of my unconsciousness?
Does the void fill my conscious mind
with images of destruction, death and more questions?
I have been at the edge, seduced by the promises in the void.
I have seen my car plummet off the hi-lo bridge into the murky waters of the Maumee below as if it were…
Sunflowers have turned their cheery faces toward the sun for more than 4000 years. This feature of the sunflower is called phototropism-bending toward the light. I delight in watching the sunflowers swivel their magnificent faces toward the sun when spending an entire day tending the garden.
The Sunflower (Helianthus annuus L.) in it’s familiar shape and form popped up around 4500 years ago. Sources disagree on when, but are confident about where, the western regions of North America in the current states of Arizona and New Mexico. …
warrior, goddess, seeker, wizard
explore, discover, and wonder why…
sit in silence waiting for Eureka
slowly merging knower and seeker
questioning doctrine as one
on a sandy floor
a structure, a filter, a foundation
watching and waiting
tracking who trips, who falls,
who stands upon the rock
plants a flag declaring victory and the truth
Knower seeking the moment of creation
Seeker knowing creation’s moment
testing the others’ creed
evolving every decade forward
wagging tongues combining into one speak, one movement skipping down the yellow brick road arm in arm to the fields of…
Has had an eclectic life — Waitress, Actress, Zoo Curator, Story Teller, Poet, Exhibit Designer, Writer, Farmer and Educator.