Words By the Ocean

Promises were made by the ocean,

where sweet and salt met

and flowed into each other.

Promises began earlier,

marked during the passage of the sun

and affirmed in the fullness of the moon.

I unbound my hair then,

allowing my curls to express themselves.

I whispered a promise to the stars,

unaware they could and would

answer back.

Smooth stones paid witness,

to the power of the elements

to change things,

and to my words.

Perhaps today I would

be able to hear them ask,

“Do you know what it is you promise?”

But of course today I would answer,

“I do.” 

Song Choice: River of Dreams by Billy Joel

This poem was inspired by the prompt given over at A Dash of Sunny, Take Me to the Ocean

Roaring Like the Twenties

Baby vamp you’re the bee’s knees.

It may be the rum running the show,

but you’re the most scintillating thing

in this juice joint.

You can’t spell scintillate

without sin.

Sin ‘til eight?

Let’s sin past 1, 2 or 3.

Say, let’s sin like it’s goin' out of style.

The real sin would be letting you go,

before the sun’s had a chance,

to see your smile.

Song Choice: Let's Misbehave

This post was inspired Imaginary Garden With Real Toad's Weekend Mini-prompt: Fashion Me Your Words, Pierrot Grenade, a group I have happily become an official part of. Hop on over for some more witty word play from my fellow Toads. 

Spring Thaw

Ice transformed by sun

into gold rivulets

with sunlight playing

on the surface

flow down streets

and onto earth,

nudging spring

into being.

Song Choice: Here Comes The Sun by The Beatles

This poem was inspired by the prompt given over at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads, Micro-poetry challenge. 

A Likely Story

I think of a world without myth,

and it horrifies me.

A world with no dragons or phoenixes,

no demons or angels,

seems bland.

Oh, I know it will do for some.

And even for others,

it's a fine thing

to believe in a unicorn

encased firmly behind bars,

so long as it’s not free

to go roaming around willy-nilly.

I don’t understand myth’s hold on me.

Its power to captivate

hasn’t waned in the slightest.

I am as enthralled now

as I was when I was young.

The only difference is

the enchantment is stronger.

At home in myth's forest

I explore familiar paths,

losing myself in their wildness.

Maenad mad,

I kiss myth fully on the mouth,

hoping to get

one more story. 

Song Choice: Loved by the Sun by Tangerine Dream

This poem was inspired by the prompt given by A Dash of Sunny, Myth

Restraint

I know you are there, 

and the world stops.

It has to, you see.

There are too many things

pushing me, pulling me,

demanding me,

and all I can do is make sure

to save the spaces for you.

Those moments are far too few;

it’s like pointing to the moss in a sidewalk crack

calling it a garden.

Yet, they sustain me.

Here I breathe.

Here I burn.

The world starts again in those moments,

our world.

Words and sounds

sealed up in the old one

rush from me.

I cannot stop touching you.

My skin too long denied

the presence of your hands and lips

has its own demands to make,

yet delights in yielding

to the desires of yours.

Too soon
we return to where we were.

And delight must give way

to sensible adulthood,

littered with busyness.

But it only lasts,

until the next time

the world stops again,

when we can sate ourselves once more.

Song Choice: Love Reign O'er Me by The Who 

This poem was inspired by the prompt given over at A Dash of Sunny.

Cannibal Diner

I find feral smiles intriguing,

especially the bits and pieces

of meat left sticking between the teeth.

You’ve dribbled a bit.

It’s just a rusty dot

on the front of your shirt

matching a blob

on your napkin.

I’m not the first to watch you eat.

Though I’m certain

I’m one of the few that observe.

Observation leads to fascination.

That’s where many get into trouble.

Fascination may lead to

softening the harsh lines

so clearly delineated by napkin stains,

perhaps even make

one want to trust.

I see where trust would get me.

It’s right there between your teeth.

I intend to be the only one leaving this table.

And I have plenty of floss in my purse

for afterwards.

Song Choice: Hit Me With Your Best Shot by Pat Benatar.

This poem was inspired by the prompt given over at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads, Carpe Jugulum

It Depends

So much depends upon

the ability to screw up royally,

magnificently,

epically,

to lose the fight

which should have easily been won,

to rob Muddville of its joy.

So when you look at your kids

with their scuffed knees,

crossed arms,

and their insistence

that it’s just too much,

you can stand up on sore legs,

and a crooked smile. 

You can honestly say,

“Ouch.”

Then say,

“Next.” 

Song Choice: Move Along by All American Rejects

This poem is inspired by the prompt given at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads, Red Wheelbarrow Challenge. 

Also By Request

A couple of days ago I posted my recording of a poem based on which one had received the most votes by you lovely folks. While My Parent's One Moment of Whimsy was the clear winner, Faerie Song inspired such a passionate response, I felt as long as I had my microphone out, I ought to record it too. So here it is:

Faerie Song