The issue on the table
all labored to eschew,
generated a moral concern;
one that burned the hue
of golden red-brown-orange.
Proponents and opponents alike
couldn’t find it in themselves even
to approach agreement.
Finally, each faction backed away from the table
vowing from behind clenched teeth
beneath lying eyes
to return the morrow to discuss things anew.
That promise they made despite knowing
what had come clear to all –
there was no point in talking
with no salvation in sight for
their errant sisters and brothers.
Gazing into the flame
it came, tangle of a
question, idea, concern, obligation.
Scuttling persistently around my mind
an ambling parade to wake my
worry muscle. The collective
my head, set to defy me
in my quest for emptiness.
Slowly, in the flame
in the tangled mass of thoughts,
a familiar face emerged.
His boyish smile betrayed that
even as I sought
to withhold my audience,
he would say more in his typical
controlling, helpfully annoying style.
Quietly, in the flame
a subtle change in thought
brought a gasp from
the rambling ambling head;
cause unknown since I couldn’t see
far down as his bloodied thigh.
Then poof, he was all gone
leaving me free to meditate
in the moments left to me
before the flame did slip out completely.
For the Big Tent Poetry prompt of Monday 2.28.2011. Challenge is to use one of the following starter phrases and one or all of the wordle words. “Say more ________” “There is also the matter of _________” “He started by __________”
This post is part of my #SHINEonline challenge commitment for 2 posts weekly; 2 of 2 for the 8th week.
First I’m going to say
a prayer of thanks
and then for forgiveness in advance.
Because after that
I’m gonna kick the hell out of
my nagging self-doubting voice.
When her virtual knees buckle
I’m lobbing off her head.
And when I’m sure she’s broken down
I’m removing her victory crown
to place it on my own.
Then I’ll sit and pick my poems for
the P-A-D challenge submission.
I’ll edit them, send them and
lastly, forget it.
The party line states
my hip socket created
the problem almost from birth.
Its poor development was
the reason for
at six and thirty-one.
But that’s not really it.
What really happened was
not one at six at all.
I took off that year from school
indulging my blossoming
In the next twenty-some years
I continued to grow
in creativity and discontent
which I kept tightly bottled in.
Then in some mad angst
to assuage an old rebellion
that still wore my name upon it,
I found one outrageous motorcyclist
whose only intent for me
was to be an accomplice
in creating one hellacious ruckus.
My crutches then were the result of
our most raucous excursion ever.