Prose; Skin


pick a tomato

The shell of a turtle, a carapace, guards your continuance of electric water, straight to your brain, pulls your vibration down in by degrees.

Your skin like a husk full of ridges on corn smells sweet,

hard to pull off at the bottom, tassles so soft on my face, the smell of earth.

Your arm was warm and pleasant as the first tomato of summer in my hungry hand.

Let me bite into that luscious fruit, so sweet and tangy

 or a mango stream of juice down my chin.

I’m distracted, clement smells from your back

Why are so sweet yet so smart and severe?

No end to touch makes my breathing peaceful.

I feel happy…oh god I’m doomed.

Indeed, it only lasted one day and you ripped your skin from me again.

At least you can’t take the memory from me.

Words can never erase actions like skin can never cover feelings.

 

Prose; Sex as Source Energy


sex-is-source-energy

Authority, document, Testament, creed

Usurps my Love and all Earth deeds

Nurture, Earth, yearning passion, lust

absent fondness, potent throbs concuss.

Strength, virility, manly vigor, force,

potent beat, vacant blow, profuse throbbing course

Pound THE BOOK? It’s the loudest?

Leave my heart on the floor.

You are absent, your soul knows no swell or full core of

my love or your love, the book just ignores.

Woman’s body is feared, she makes life on her own

once man’s seed is deeply sown.

Yet her body creates the greatest of gifts,

a child, not great thoughts that cause a great rift.

books

 

 

 

 

 

Prose; Analogy & Metaphor


 

500px-delboeuf_illusion
The Delboeuf illusion makes one dot appear larger than the other. But they’re the same size. Your brain is misled by comparing the dots to the surrounding circles.

What’s the difference between an analogy and a metaphor?…

Turns out…not much.

An analogy is a rational difference between two things,

As though any two things are actually that different.

A metaphor is in the eye of the beholder.

Prose; Skin


pick a tomato

The shell of a turtle, a carapace, guards your continuance of electric water, straight to your brain, pulls your vibration down in by degrees.

Your skin like a husk full of ridges on corn smells sweet,

hard to pull off at the bottom, tassles so soft on my face, the smell of earth.

Your arm was warm and pleasant as the first tomato of summer in my hungry hand.

Let me bite into that luscious fruit, so sweet and tangy

 or a mango stream of juice down my chin.

I’m distracted, clement smells from your back

Why are so sweet yet so smart and severe?

No end to touch makes my breathing peaceful.

I feel happy…oh god I’m doomed.

Indeed, it only lasted one day and you ripped your skin from me again.

At least you can’t take the memory from me.

Words can never erase actions like skin can never cover feelings.

 

Prose; Gray Day


gray day.jpg

The sky is much grayer lack of light and still prayer.

Tree bark darker wet mud dragged upstairs.

No grayer will be in that Michigan sky, mournful woes sad goodbyes.

Sad goodbyes to the bright sun that shocks eyes in May,

It appears a huge orb high in the sky.

We say “What’s that big orange disc by day?”

Who hides behind clouds that we hate.

Oh please dear sun, we beg for your warmth,

We can’t take one more grate of this fate.

My son says, “I don’t know what is better, gray sky or the snow?”,

His smug face looks at me with a smirk.

He’s eighteen and he’s jibbing his mother so low

But he’s serious, he prefers this to hurt,

The hurt of the sun burning down on his face shining wonderful light in his eyes

He was born in a snowbank at the end of this month

Eighteen short years as I rank.

I’ll forgive him this time as there won’t be much more

Of his smart-alec ways to imbibe

He’s going away, out my front door

And that’s when my heart may just die.

Jan. 30, 2017

 

 

Prose; My Only Child Turns Eighteen Today


He went from twenty inches long to 70 inches long.  Something or someone pulled him into this big, strapping, broad-shouldered, sweet, brilliant man.

Well, legally he’s a man, but now he needs to launch out into this crazy mess of humans bumping around, unaware of how their thoughts and feelings create their life.  He is a calm, kind soul so he won’t be skinning anyone alive, but he does tend to be honest in a very charitable manner so most people won’t get off scot-free from his observations.

ALEX

The day of your birth, a crisp, cold, crystal day

In my memory, eighteen years ago holds sway

Who do I value most of all?

It’s you my son so big and tall

May your life have adventures that take your breath

May you jump in feet first, unafraid of death

I know that’s odd for a mother to say

But my son has seen death like it’s yesterday

His father is gone, a year ago now

He loved our son dearly at his final bow

I’ve held the ship level as best I can

Mostly alone with some helping hand

The men do die, often you know

The woman on her own in the ice and snow

Remember that sometimes people need help

A hand or two is all when they yelp

Just as we have done in these last two years

Keep your friends close as you move through the tears

But there’s fun to be had, plenty of that

As you move around life from the last place you sat

Run the race strong, keep your head up son

And be a good friend ’til your Earth life is done.