31 January 2015

Bone's Memory

When I picture myself alive I'm in lavender 
fields near home back when muscles
powered me anywhere I pleased. They brought me
one morning to purple flower bustles
stretched out
far as eyes see, lavender cowls
gathered free,
held close against my decline,
becoming only bone, having to surrender
home's fields and time's spine.

Posted for Kerry's Flash 55 at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads with an additional feature of a form she devised with a word count each line and a rhyme scheme. The original inspiration was from Hannah's prompt, also from Real Toads, of Lavender Fields under Transforming Thursday/ Friday Nature's Wonders. Also posted for Open Link Night, hosted by Claudia, over at dVerse Poets Pub. Another in my bone poem series.

30 January 2015

All that Remains

We're left with
this: the hardness of 
bone, the space where organs 
used to be, life's music itself stopped,
silence reigns.

Tonny Maude has us writing cinquains expanded (5 lines with 3-5-7-9-3 syllables) over at dVerse Poets Pub. This is another in my bone poems series.

09 January 2015


My, then, totally cute,
love- of- my- life boyfriend
gave me his old and my first car,
a cream colored VW Beetle.
He had moved to NYC
and I was finishing college
in Boston traveling 
to home, school, work.
That car held his scent 
and showed me his intent.
It was the scene of other firsts as well
but that's for another poem altogether.
He came to visit one weekend
and admired my legs in my mini skirt
as I swung them into the drivers seat.
It's what I remember most
about that car- the jolt
of being in the driver's seat
for the very first time.

I went on to marry that man 41 years ago and we've owned many cars since but talk frequently and fondly of our first car... Posted for Herotomost at Real Toads who asked us to write about our first car. 

05 January 2015

Bone Quiet

It's strange
to be without
marking inside
and out, defense 
made impossible
Din arrives 
not just by ear
but surrounds
each bone. 
I thought 
quiet would reign,
the death silence,
but wind's
fierce incursion 
blunts bones 
with no skin 
to hold it out. 
blur any sense 
of safe containment;
after gone 
comes noise.

A Flash 55 in my bone poems series for Kerry at http://www.withrealtoads.blogspot.com.