Backwards Time

Mother's Day 2013

Through my years of rogue-like wandering
a circuitous path, the ins and outs and ups and downs
at times defiant as a two-year-old,
you remained passive with undying love.

And now you're dying.

I wonder if you know    I know
you stood beside me, a whisper in my heart?
That as a mother you excelled?

I'd like to accelerate backwards time, go back 
and send daily praises to your side, thank you
for mothering me, for instilling family values--

blood a thread of life forever tied to piano keys,
your tender melody woven in my mind.

Today I'll sing your lively tune.

~

Today's Inspiration:
Poetry Jam~ Tribute
3WW~ accelerate, passive, rogue
PU Mid-Week Motif~ Love (in 14 lines)

A New Attitude & An Announcement

quell the hellish fire within,

burning ire laced with sin

 

scrutinize the lies

you tell yourself,

like
that
you're
nothing

 

don't isolate

or scathe your need

for others

 

instead, be faithful--

burn evil thoughts,
turn toward the light

let it wave
tranquility
throughout your body

 

 

*

 

Prompt Inspiration:

Poetry Jam~ Fire

PU Mid-Week Motif~ Newness

3WW~ faithful, isolate, scrutinize

 

 

*

Good News Announcement:

The cover of my first poetry collection, Upon the Blue Couch, has just been revealed. For more information, please visit my author page at Winter Goose Publishing.

,,,Orphaned Commas,,,

A (captain?) crunch of numb-

ness, not numbers, silly; don't you

know I'm a poet? No, numb

 

words dilute this page, lame

words, so terse, like, ugh, "it"

rains orphaned commas ,,,,,

that won't cooperate, no,,,,,

 

They jump around like love-

less passion, horny college

coeds, bed-to-bed, hmm,

want some humble pie?

 

Ask an English teacher

about commas; less drama

will occur when you concur,

the numbness on the screen

will dissipate when those

crappy commas find their place.

 

 

~~

 

Poetry inspirations~

Poetry Jam: Usual/Unusual

3WW: cooperate, lame, terse

PU Verse First: Passion

 

Nonsense

Photo by L. Kolp

Do you see the pattern?

Doused with sprouts

of swirly fluff

~naughty words~

I've had enough!

They don't make sense,

no tense (some dense).

Overused, a pale

defense against

ShAtTeReD poems,

prolific forms

from whence; do you

get my drift?

 

* 

Prompt inspirations:

Poetry Jam~Logical Non Sequitur

3WW~ douse, naughty, pale

Poets United Verse First: Patterns

Closed

Don't touch him,

don't expect him to

open up.

 

The arms

he once wrapped

around himself

 

were ripped off

by his wife

 

and all that's left

are burrs.

(part of) Venus de Milo with Drawers, 1936, Salvador Dali
Photo prompt courtesy of The Mag 157

Note: I did not refer to Venus in this poem because my muse wanted to take this in a different direction!

Also shared w/ Poets United: Poetry Pantry #139

No, It's Not

Before you immerse yourself in a padlocked bathroom
Attempt to flush false emotions
And ponder valid
Reasoning
With tears
Just
Wait
Just
Wait
And think;
Is it worth
The acid, dry heaves?
Is the pain worth the consequence
Twenty years later, the loss of enamel on teeth?

*

Poetic Inspirations:
Poets United- Verse First: Fibonacci poems w/ Kim (I did a double reverse fib)
3WW- heave, ponder, valid

Where Witches Roam

Wind of History by Jacek Yerka
Pic prompt courtesy of The Mag 156

where witches roam

a wind enchants

draws victims to

clawed spellbound rants

and waves, they roll

in and out ... in and out

they cause a hole

inside cold hearts

a cauldron seeps

a rage disturbed

a horror steep

so stay away

from haunted homes

where witches roam

and words don't sleep

**

*Also linked to Poets United: Poetry Pantry138*

Committed to Not Drink Diet Coke

On this first day of Lent
I solemnly do swear
to commit
to quit
the absurdity
the shit

of drinking
diet soda
chugging acid
down my gut

another deadly habit
I've attached to
pick-up lines--
school, not bars
dear loves;
what would
my husband think?

Yes, in the carpool
line I enjoy
my Diet Coke,
but not the next
six weeks--
I'll commit
to just...
Starbuck's coffee,
yeah, that's it!
No more poison
down my throat.

*

Prompt inspiration: Poets United Verse First~ Committed- I am giving up diet drinks, but the Starbucks part was my muse's silly idea. It's mostly water and milk for me (except my morning java start me up) for Lent.

Famished by the Sun

The dying grass crunches beneath bare feet
that walk a path each passing rainless week
back and forth to the yellow sprinkler hose,
in hopes at least a bit survives this drought.

Trees and shrubs blanched white begin to wilt,
a frown it seems as if they've given up
craving autumn's shades of orange and red;
blind hunger lost in sun's unending heat.

@laurie kolp

Poetry inspiration: Poets United Thursday Think Tank (hunger)

Early Morning Delight

The aromatic air led me to this place;
percolating coffee, cinnamon, vanilla
swirled into tantalizing tastes I admire.

You ordered a piece of apple strudel
while I puckered up my lips, painted them red
hoping you'd follow me back to the hotel.

@laurie kolp

Poetic inspiration: 3WW (admire, follow, piece), Poets United Midnight Snack

French Quarter Lovers (Prose Poetry)

Strolling through the French Quarter, hungry singles look at passers-by as potential lovers. Horny men shop for immodest girls drunk enough to lift their shirts and jostle their tits; while lonely women stop and chat outside art galleries and exquisite restaurants in search of well-educated men. This is how they met-- by fated accident, or so they say; only she wore a muumuu dress roomy enough to hide a handle of vodka and he waited tables at a strip joint on Bourbon Street. Outside the St. Louis Cathedral I watched them move in slow motion, run like Chariots of Fire athletes until close enough to clutch one another in a loving embrace. Occasionally things turn out that way but most of the time French Quarter lovers wake up early the next morning, leave faster than you can say laissez les bon temps roulez. Such is the life in good old New Orleans.

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration~ The Sunday Whirl... Words for 9/25/11: accident, chat, jostle, motion, move, shop, occasionally, strolling, passers-by, outside, clutch, look

I'm also posting this to Poets United Poetry Pantry

So, Breathe

Even in the depths of suffocating despair
there's always something to reach for
something to live for

so, breathe

inhale 1, 2, 3
exhale 4, 5, 6

think past the pain, see the light

inhale 1, 2, 3
exhale 4, 5, 6

reach for the light
live for the light
breathe.



@laurie kolp

Prompt/picture inspiration: Poets United

Purls of Pearls

I'm standing at the window looking out;
war and hate and death and fire and flood
are stitched into my mind these words I sew
a clashing patchwork quilt with threads of blood.

But then I see a flash of red and blue
birds sitting side by side beneath the seed,
taking turns, respecting each wing's space
as others peck at bark from Father Tree.

And all at once I'm filled with inner peace,
I know this moment here is everything;
no war nor hate nor death nor fire nor flood
can ruin purls of pearls sweet nature brings.

@laurie kolp

Read more poetry at dVerse Poetry & Poets United

Scarred, Then Marred

Sinking in pebbled mud
inadvertently marred,
a junkyard of memories
unintentionally scarred.

She stumbles upon
the truck they once shared,
speeding teen love
until drunk, he despaired.

And now she's left
unintentionally scarred,
sinking in pebbled mud
inadvertently marred.

*

@laurie kolp


Prompt inspiration: Magpie Tales, Poets United

The Life Cycle of Smell

start off baby powder fresh
add a dash of dirt and sweat
cover up hormonal charring
with a spicy splashed sunset

after ample time has passed
mothballs will eat your lunch
mixed in urinated broth
(fragrant Lysol packs a punch)


Prompt inspiration: Poets United Thursday Think Tank (smells)

Never Judge Happiness by a Smile

For years she tried to alter
her appearance; plastering
a smile on her face at all times
tanning in a coffin, shrinking body

size unconventionally. A funhouse
mirror hung in her mind, warping
self-image with each sideways glance
while inside she withered away.

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: Poetic Bloomings , Magpie Tales (pic) and  Poets United

Summer Childhood Memories, Part VIII

A Nightmare on My Street

***

At the sound of “Amen,”

SCREECH, HONK, KABOOM, BOOM

thundered in our laps

Mom and Dad rushed outside

past your ten-speed bike

you and I their shadows

burning metal, barbecue ribs

two cars, one in our yard

littered with groceries

Oh my God!

a body, a neighbor

crying teenage girls

Oh my God!

“Get inside the house!”

I ran in, you followed

sweaty hair stuck to your face

Oh my God!

“It could have been you!”

we watched zombies

move in and out

back and forth

use the phone

call 911

tears, screams

Oh, my God!

“Someone get towels, hurry up!”

blood, shaky hands

Oh my God!

“I dreamed this would happen!”

sirens, ambulance

cops, firemen

mosquitoes everywhere

Oh my God!

the lady died.


That's why I've always worn my seatbelt.

@laurie kolp

Inspiration: Poets United

Cartwheels With Sound Effects

Tumble-dee-do
Let gramma play with you.

Snap, crackle, pop
Oh, no I can't stop!

Kabam, crunch-crunch
The grass ate my lunch.

Clap, clap... whoopie!
Grams, you're still fun to me.

@laurie kolp


Prompt inspirations: Poet's United Thursday Think Tank (grass) and Poetry Jam (life at 67)

Not Alone in Loneliness

Peaceful solitude
or colorless seclusion?
Is happiness on the horizon
or is it an illusion?
My path, narrowed with age,
grows clear-cut and luminous.
For experience has shown me
I'm not alone in loneliness .

@laurie kolp


Prompt inspiration: Poets United Thursday Think Tank

Childhood Summer Memories, Part V: Synchronized Swimming

It was a time when underwater tea
parties and games of Marco Polo
motivated energetic kids on hot
summer days, long hours were spent
cooling off in swimming pools with
friends. I was there most days
playing along, except during camp.
Then I was a ballerina swimming
through the chlorinated water,
a naiad in her natural element.
Laying flat and moving my hands
in quick figure eight motions, I
floated atop the glassy surface.
Others beside me did the same;
lined up we looked like sardines
in a metal can. Yet we pointed
our toes and lifted our legs
performing adagios, battements
and pliés on our liquid stage,
swam as dolphins in underwater
circles and fancy flippy tricks  
as the coach counted beats from
the sidelines swapping horseflies.

*

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: Poetry Jam and Poets United

Click here to read another piece on summer camp (revisiting the Rocky Horror Picture Show)... I've added pictures since I first posted.