Someone

Someone broke my heart today
Again
Thought I was past all that by now
All at once I was young again
If only for a while
In a song where snowflakes turn to rain
Pictures of my foolish innocence
Scattered all to hell
Bits of a treasured ornament that fell
So very long ago
Somehow pieced together
Hanging where it belongs
Shame and regret and all the things
We never got to say
Back among the lights and tinsel and memories
That never fade away
Thank God someone broke my heart again today

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WordPress and the Poetry Tag

I
Wonder
oft
what Byron and the Bard
Wordsworth, Longfellow, Chaucer,
Emily and Christina,
Sylvia too. Ezra, Geoffrey, Burns,
and both the Brownings.
Oscar, Goethe, Dante
and anyone named Dylan,
Maya Angelou
Langston, Hayes, Yusef,
Alfred the Lord,
Percy, Frost, Coleridge.
Blake or Keats, Sandburg,
Cummings, Eliot,
Ginsburg, Burroughs and all the beats. Neruda, Rumi,
Mary, Henry David, Ralph Waldo, Maria, Heather,
Louise, Edna, Marianne and Edgar with their rules
and metered effortless rhyme would think of Internet “poetry”
most no more than decent prose cut up, stacked like a heart or
A staircase, a candlestick or an expensive layered cupcake?
Or worse! Beauty lost in arrogant, erudite obfuscation trailing
obsequiousness like a kite’s tail in a vacuum. Pain is understood
As are the pentatonic canons of Aristotle so here’s a picture of a subway
in France where I was bummed and a dirty old man playing saxophone stared at my tears click on the social icons tell me how you liked me I’ll be your BFFF if you’ll just buy my damn lip gloss which is all my way to say why I don’t write much poetry and stick to
fiction
Because it’s a damn site easier than making ascii art out of prose

Apologies to all the internet poets and word slingers who take themselves and their word art too seriously.

DID I SAY SERIOUS! YES! A SERIOUSLY WEIRD MURDER, MAYHEM AND CHAOS COLLAB IS GOING ON AT:The Art of Drowning

Hosted Courtesy of The Perilous Reading Society and Ash N. Finn

Take a step outside and check them out

 

Vinyl Wallet

I am constantly being reminded here in the blogosphere that it is Mental Health Month. I found the first part of this, originally written in 1976. Yes, it’s sophomoric. I added the last bit today. Help people if you can. Early. Or someone buries them. Early.

A boy married young
Rebelled against the norm
In his desire to be different
He kicked up quite a shit storm
Her parents were wealthy
Considered him beneath their station
They honeymooned in Hawaii
He was supposed to find work but
They got high and it was simply an extended vacation

They sold clothes and pianos, waited tables, built houses
Those were a bomb
They pulled an acre of thorny grapevine down
Burned it for her Mom
Her Mother paid to keep them eating,
Sheltered and alive
They laughed and partied
Spent mom’s money
Ignored her father’s sermons and jive

That first Christmas
Her parents gave him
A vinyl wallet
Gramma and the sisters, old Aunt Helen
They all laughed, agreed
Said out loud that was all he’d ever need
That was the last Holiday
He’d drop spaghetti on their oriental rug
Mom made sure they were done
With no more than a shrug

He was forty minutes North
Forty years away
When he learned their daughter blew her brains out
Livin’ in a postcard just south of L.A.
Didn’t matter who it was
Or what theirs was made of
Did it
Come end of that day

R.I.P. Deborah Eloise Kendall-Juette
10.12.1953 – 5.4.2004
Too many senseless decisions are made with alcohol and a hand gun. Do your best to keep them away from people looking for the wrong answer.

Them’s Some Fine Lookin’ Shoes

That Woman there
Got her
Some
Fine lookin’ shoes
Strutted through
Momma Rue’s
Stepped out of one
Fool’s
Heartbreak
Right into another dude’s
Blues
Curious how
Every woman in the
Room
Crazy for
Her shoes

Wished they’d found
Some
On sale
On line
Even if they hurt
‘Cause all that
Heartbreak
Yesterday’s men all
Ashes and
Dust
In the wind
They all knew
Girl had it goin’
On

Not too gimmicky
Not a real
Bitch
Knew what she wanted
Rich
Would do nicely
Loved you for
Dinner
A movie
A weekend
Maybe two but
Slummin’
Forever
Won’t never
Do
Every woman in
Town
Crazy
For Her shoes

Get over it
Brother
Can’t you see
Move
Or move on
Girl’s got it
All
Goin’ on

When she’d shuffled
Enough Fools
One offered
Fingers full of
Jewels
More to come
But
Here’s
The new rules
Listen
Up
Man said

This many
Pretty children
Where I go is
Where
You stay and
What I think is
What you
Say
Keep it that
Way
Country Club Hostess
Mama
Maybe even a
little whore
Time to time
Be fine
On call
Night or day
Whatta ya say

Still
Every damn woman
In the
County
Crazy for
Her shoes

Miss somethin’
Darlin’
Someone
Little people
Little minds
Gotta get over it
Darlin’
Ain’t no
Easy way
Out

Get over it
Move
Or move on
Girl don’t you
Know
No?
Hey
You got it
All
Goin’ on

Wasn’t never too gimmicky
Managed to find
Bitch
And rich
Oh Yes
Indeed
She never stepped
Out of
Her own heart
Locked up
But
Never broken
Blues
Maybe a little
If so she
Sung them
Quietly to
No one

Get over it
Sister
Move
Or move on
Girl you got
All of
Too much
of everything
Goin’ on

Can you
Fathom
Imagine
Believe
That still
Most every
Damn woman
Most every
Damn where
Still
Crazy for
Her shoes

A Short Prayer

For a short Old Friend

She’s old enough to
Have heard her babies cry
Heard her Mother cry, now
She’s forced to watch
The man who’s been beside
Her
Die
For whoever answers prayers today
Listen…

Show her someplace quiet
Sunny and cool
Where the grass is
Green and
Soft
Sit with her on the bank of the
Magic stream
So wide, so
Slow
Where the water
Is clear and
Clean
Let her be ankle deep for awhile
In all of what is
Everything

Let the very best of their
Yesterdays
Fold her gently in their arms
Take a moment
Show her a tomorrow
Real and bright
Hold her through the night
Give her something to
Believe
Show her a glimpse of what is
Everything
Help her while she grieves

Dry her tears
Calm her fears
Show her how a love
That lasted a lifetime
Means more than pictures
On a wall
Show her what she needs to see
Listen if she calls
Show her what she’s made of
How who and where she’s been
Is still that girl
She thought she
Was
So strong, so
Long ago

Show her someplace quiet
Hold her heart inside your hand
Keep it still and
Calm
Wrap her in
Compassion
Give her dreams that are
Sweet
When she needs
Relief
As she’s forced to watch
The man who’s been beside
Her
Die

I won’t ask for easy
I know it doesn’t work that way
From whoever answers prayers today
I ask only for some simple Grace and
A touch of Mercy
For an old friend

Painting: “Norham Castle, Sunrise” by JMW Turner, The Tate, London

Small Words, Small Thoughts

Petits Mots, Petites Idées…
[petit poème de ~la femme qui brûle~ par Sha’Tara]

L’étoile du matin
S’éteint
Je regarde mes biens:
De ce qui tient
Je n’ai besoin de rien.
Tout va bien.

————————————

Small words, Small Thoughts
[from ~burning woman~ by Sha’Tara]

The morning star
Is extinguished
I scan my possessions:
Of what clings,
I need none.
All is well.

Re-blogged from ~burning woman~

https://shatara46.wordpress.com/2016/11/16/petits-mots-petites-idees/

Soul Cry

All he’d ever wanted
Coffee
In a diner
A moment of her time
Diners became cartoons
of themselves
bowed long ago
to franchises
So here is where he was

Macbook student, a booth for two
his backpack guest
Overflows with grad school

Forty-ish flight attendants
flashing nails
severe ponytails
carry-on handles extended
stand wheel-locked guard
at their table

The possibly blonde
furrows her brow
turns the phone
on its stomach as if to
Quiet a small child
Struggling with under bed monsters
Question mark eyes from the other
a simple shrug of no
One of them needs
to smile

Thick paperback woman
of age
glasses down her nose
her table covered
dozens of napkins
spotted with lipstick say fastidious
Her hair says modestly vain

Two deep blue scrubs eat salads
oblivious
Speak of rectums and spleens and all the
in-betweens
Would you like more
Dressing?

A waitress so young cynical
Her eyes see no one
worth seeing
Deposits steam
in all the cups
Stained-glass colored
arms
disappear
up dark t-shirt sleeves
black nail polish remains chipped
Thoughts, smiles
offered to her arrive
unwelcomed

Her colorful arms should wrap
the sparsely bearded sandwich
handoff boy
somewhere fun, free
gray and drizzly
on an empty pier
His place later
Do each other’s nails while
he listens to her heart

Back across the granite table
softer
by far
than the gulf of years between them
She sat quietly
A picture of herself
A frame of flesh and bone
If asked he’d call her expensive, well maintained like
the German car
he watched her park
Only it was newer than her
by far.

Yeah, yeah her husband
he heard her say
so healthy so wealthy so wise
So much
Smarter than a crystal ball
Rich as Croesus
believes in Jesus, had compassion stood by her
side
in her dark hours of grief
That was important for him
to understand
All the standing by

She had grieved
Too many hours
he would agree
Death close by comes hard
harder still
Cloaked in violence
in surprise
In quantity

Did he hear kind, giving, helpful, fun, funny
he must have missed them between great
wonderful hard working successful provider father
Couldn’t miss the children
though
Beautiful, smart, loving, doing
well and yes she played golf
Why did he ask?
Why did he smile?

She made that face when he
romanticized
waitress and sandwich boy
She heard laughter
Hidden
in his voice
Bodies wrapped together
undulating, melting into
a human painter’s palette
Had she forgotten
being young?

Her frown on such simple things
Such simple beings
easily affordable
And yet do you think
would they
Could they do each other’s
nails?
He would really
listen to her heart?
He could
possibly would
care
Do you think?

Still
How would that pay
the bills
fill the time
the house
Impress the neighbors
and the board of
Misdirectors

He smiled again
She remembered why
You’re still so…
she tried to find it
Wouldn’t
finish it

He’d gotten even
older
his coffee colder
while he listened to everything
Except her heart
She averted and avoided until he
locked her
in his vision
Caught her eye

Knew at once if a bit of her
made it through
The parted lips she moistened
with a tongue given
to keeping what was her
inside
He would surely hear her soul
Cry

All he’d ever wanted
Coffee
in a diner
a moment of her time

The dream offered only
Coffee
And a moment of
her
Lifetime

To offer him more
Impossible!
He could see her soul
She knew that even
Now
And she would never
allow him to see
Her
Cry