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I will reprint a series of poems for my heart, Lise Martine Gilchrist, who passed Sunday, November 3, 2019, All Saints Day. This is one I wrote many years ago for her. Thank you for sharing in this journey of mourning my sister-friend, a love of my life, of 30 years.
twin hearts
furniture shared
and letters traded
hardly a thing i own
without your mark
i’ve nurtured you
as you threw up bile
and you shed tears
when i bled my heart
your ways become mine
and my heart yours
the line that runs between us unbroken
the knocking doors and answered phones
have always been eager between us
some unbroken lineage
we have to fulfill
we both laugh at the prospect
and toss back another cup of fate
you tell me your stories
and i tell you mine
we blend together in this weave
and it’s too late
to pull us apart
Issued by (State of Mind), Sherri Rose Walker, Poet and Florey’s Poetry Series Host. Sherri gave this to the featured poets at last Saturday’s reading. She designed and had it printed…clever woman!
i need square time
she said with a prance
to study the conjugation of himilayan
square time
from the blues holiday and wings that fly
square time of igloo reading glasses, crusty books
trade articles and google search
oh, sing that chakra number two
and shake your heart of tambourine
howling coach to bangledesh and new york city
before i go om
plant my roots on down…
i love you, muse
pouring your sauce on my cake
but i need nerd time
with Elton and earthly dogs
i’m just a square afterall
coming home after the ball
Street Singer by artist and writer Eliezer Sobel
see more about him at: http://www.eliezersobel.com/
There’s a new ride at the Fair! Instead of the usual mechanical rides fair-goers can waste their money on, fair-goers of the writing sort can now select from several categories and get the thrilling ride of an instant rejection letter…Free!
Just think: no need to send off a submission and wait weeks. Now you can get rejected just by asking. Of the many categories, I selected “Tilt A Whirl” and below is the dizzying rejection ride I was gifted with. Thanks to the geniuses at The Stoneslide Corrective for recognizing this need and filling it. Write On.
Double click on the image below to read the letter (click again once open and you can probably get it to magnify).
Rejection-be-Damned, I will be featuring at the Fair (Expo Building) next Saturday night June 15th at 7 p.m. I do hope you will join me for this poetry reading, which will be followed by a musical performance by Thomas Jay Burks.
luke warm water roars into the bath tub
my nerves ache for that shot of relief
only blazing water can give
i release myself to float in the cowardly bath
squirming to keep my skin from making contact with the comfortless air
i bet jack nicholson doesn’t have to take tepid baths
i meditate on the medicine chest poking out like a 1970’s TV
i bet he has a recessed medicine chest and spicy hot water, never ending
i close my eyes to the shower curtain and pretend the water is luxurious enough, brave enough to give me the hot bite i want
and it comes to me that i know jack nicholson doesn’t have to be annoyed at his spouse for turning down the blasted water heater to supposedly save a few dollars
i know this because i read they live in separate houses.
he never has a spouse sneaking around like a gremlin, moving things, but especially turning water heaters down to save money
this, of course, makes me hate jack nicholson because he is rich and never has to take a tepid bath
maybe if i wait long enough, the water will be hotter when I turn it on again
but, no, it’s cooler
i am going to kill my husband when he gets home
he is going to wish we lived in separate houses
there’s nothing like a tepid bath to get your blood boiling
courtesy of Sarah Curtiss, see more of Sarah’s art at http://www.graceartgroup.com
the flavors of my lips
inspired by jack prelutsky’s poem bleezer’s ice cream
push away your first impressions
& move on past your rules
i have a lot of flavors in me
some I’ll let you choose
lazy eyes to dream me in
feel the purring of my hips
better yet just sit right here
and taste the flavor of my lips
i have
mocha cherry almond
tequila sunrise jewel
lemon spray francesca
and
butterscotch cashew
i have a chocolate velvet tongue
that calls your lips to mine
come taste a lick of sunshine
and suck my lips like wine
i’ve got
bourbon salt vanilla
and margarita tart divine
the zest of all our flavors
will spice us up sublime
so take a step aside
your route
and savor a little taste
i promise you a flavor
you wouldn’t want to waste
push away your diet
forget your other plans
its time for blueberry kisses
to meet with cherry valentines
art courtesy of biljana zovkic
see more of her art at http://biljanazovkic.wordpress.com/biljana-zovkic-the-world-of-my-voice-poems/
I couldn’t resist re-publishing this one in the spirit of the season!
when loving the modern vampire
sex is not dead
for this heartless romantic
with a sullied reputation
this seersucker suit
wearing an armor of coldness
and absinthe eyes
directing a powerful undertow of passion
sucking
sucking you into a hazy mirror
mouthy talons drawing the blue elixir
from your wanton neck
right at that tender spot
absinthe love drugging your reason
releasing you from decision
delirious with being devoured
you whimper a sigh of relief
and you are weak in the knees
your weakness
feeds his strength
and this is the best kind of sex
for both of you
coldness can never love
but passion is your master
seduction of the forbidden and the sin-sual
your teacher
but the sin of loving rapture
the sacrifice
to the wormwood box
the sleepless hibernation
the capitulation
required for this kind of passion
is frowned upon
yet the peer pressure dies away when he calls you
with his commanding eyes and still lips
romance is not dead
when you can hear his voice
raping your mind
his exactness holds you
and makes your heart leap at the site of spires
and the thought of cold marble slabs
to be laid upon
they don’t understand
the seduction
the thrill
of collapsing in his grip
they just don’t understand the complexities
the concessions that need to be made
when loving
the modern vampire
Reading at Nola’s Monday night
come into my chamber
i will wrap you in flaps and straps
and squeeze you tight
to make it right
you hobble in broken
but lumber out
like Frankenstein
cruel shoe of a special kind
step into me, my child
people will see you coming for miles
clambering so tall
a Fashion Fatale
you’ll be housed in my dark blackness
your ankle stiff
your heel will ache
moving along with a monster gait
to the party of gimps
you are suited to join
step into Das Boot
and we will become one
Das Boot
honey, can you get dinner?
i have a broken foot.
honey, can you bring me a glass of water?
i have a broken foot.
honey, can you feed the dogs?
i have a broken foot.
honey, will you come up here and change the light bulb?
i have a broken foot.
honey, I forgot my book on the table
will you bring it?
i have a broken foot.
honey, will you pile those pillows for me?
i have a broken foot.
honey, will you take these to the post office?
i have a broken foot.
honey, can you do me a favor?
i have several for you to select from
i have a broken foot.
honey, could you unload the dishwasher?
i have a broken foot
oh no! honey, help me wipe up the flood in the kitchen
yes, i know you told me not to put that container full of water up there
but it’s too late now
i can’t do it alone…i have a broken foot
honey, will you …
honey?
Honey?
HO-NEEY…
Honey?
where are you?
sex is not dead
for this heartless romantic
with a sullied reputation
this seersucker suit
wearing an armor of coldness
and belladonna eyes
directing a powerful undertow of passion
sucking
sucking you into a hazy mirror
mouthy talons drawing the blue elixir
from your wanton neck
right at that tender spot
absinthe love drugging your reason
releasing you from decision
delirious with being devoured
you whimper a sigh of relief
and you are weak in the knees
your weakness
feeds his strength
and this is the best kind of sex
for both of you
coldness can never love
but passion is your master
seduction of the forbidden and the sin-sual
your teacher
but the sin of loving rapture
the sacrifice
to the wormwood box
the sleepless hibernation
the capitulation
required for this kind of passion
is frowned upon
yet the peer pressure dies away when he calls you
with his commanding eyes and still lips
romance is not dead
when you can hear his voice
raping your mind
his exactness holds you
and makes your heart leap at the site of spires
and the thought of cold marble slabs
to be laid upon
they don’t understand
the seduction
the thrill
of collapsing in his grip
they just don’t understand the complexities
the concessions that need to be made
when loving
the modern vampire
Ruffle, courtesy of Jim Blake
iwritemyself 