Safe | Scott Thomas Outlar
Dive in,
I’ve got you.
It’s ok,
the waves
are calm now.
Together,
the ocean
is never too deep
More at http://17numa.wordpress.com/.
Poetry Website
Once Made of Stone- Wellesley Street | Allison Grayhurst
What was the shape of that shelter before you came?
It was made of lost centuries of torment
and sporadic, but deep, connection.
It was more a seed than shelter,
protecting, feeding the blood dream of my ancestry.
Then you arrived and for awhile
we stuffed ourselves inside that shelter
like ying and yang, in zen-like union.
My path was to follow the dolphins- live in the sea,
breathe what I must and be happy.
But happiness was too hard,
I was left wanting the darker layers of guilt and grief.
Your path was to find what was given to you,
to re-claim your privilege, hand-printing the walls
as though you were king.
You took the bed, I took the floor. I paid the rent
and you shared your food. Soon that shelter then become
a fossil for me. And you and I- facing each other
with crossed arms, could not find a common ground.
The boy next door worshipped you, and more and more
I felt like the estranged sister, toyed with though loved.
I took my cat and left you with
the dollar day-old-donuts and the bottled water
you used to brush your teeth with. After that,
my trust was broken. And though we still painted together,
I never showed you my jewels or sorrows.
That shelter up all those stairs, overlooking
the streetcar tracks is now this paper, an inked-in memory
without entrance
from any valley, flat plain or hill.
More at http://www.allisongrayhurst.com.
Going through the Motions | Scott Thomas Outlar
Can’t blame the drugs
Can’t blame the sugar
Can’t blame the culture
Can’t blame the devil
Can’t blame your father
Can’t blame your mother
Can’t blame yourself
Can’t blame another
So I guess there’s no one to blame
Yea, I guess there’s nothing to blame
Well, I guess there’s no one to blame
Yea, I guess there’s nothing to blame
So I guess everything is ok
Yea, everything must be ok
?
More at http://17numa.wordpress.com/.
Motherhood | Rozann Kraus
not all of us
(ovaries not withstanding)
choose membership
nor are we all
recruited
some born to it
others learn as they go
accidents gone well
or trusting in miracles
and science
our names are many
all, the sound of needs
hungry, tired, scared,
lonely, anxious, hurting
day and night confused
the now is never gone
this One is always Two
each next another, blessed
no honesty more could tell
or warn what motherhood brings
Labeled | Wanda Morrow Clevenger
officially labeled
“caregiver” like
this appointment is
some grand godly
gift vastly
improved from
Webster’s wife
and mother
and grandmother
that begs
a radical set
of credentials
Lynda Carter’s
twin bracelets
a sonogram of
Oak Island
with no option
but to wear sensible
shoes
and tip the Concierge
More at http://about.me/wandamorrowclevenger.
Feigning Ignorance | Scott Thomas Outlar
Run, Run, Run
to your needs
and kiss me
on the crown
where I’m broken
resurrect my emotion
to be more
to care
to come out of this shell
Burn, Burn, Burn
all your lies
in the fire
it’s a cauldron
where I’m living
touch base with my spirit
help me lose
this confusion
and raise up where I can see
Leave, Leave, Leave
on a whim
you’re the joker
I’m a jester
it’s a problem
no one’s solving
let’s dissolve it
learn to pretend
that we can’t see at all
More at http://17numa.wordpress.com/.
Illusive Abstractions | Scott Thomas Outlar
You perfect angel –
with your wings fluttering
in violent metamorphosis,
urging ever onward
toward the next stage of evolution.
You pristine paradise –
with your heart of diamonds
crushing all the clay and coal,
reaching for higher ground
where a flag can be raised
to the opposite pole of life’s eternal sorrow.
You magnificent mistress of chaos –
with your whimsical wiles
and your borderline personality revelations
that cater only to the virtuous
aspects of a heaven on earth destination.
You greater glory –
with your wax sun
melting on the perfect path
where our love is paved in gold
but can never be shared
lest it disintegrate into oblivion.
You creature of the cosmos –
with your universal appeal
that flutters beyond the spaces
of simple sexuality and materialism,
floating into fluffy clouds
that reverberate with a lack of inhibition.
You Goddess –
You Queen –
You Pagan of Light –
You dream –
More at http://17numa.wordpress.com/.