Chant

Not one more word, not one more plea.
Not one more song, not one more dream.
Not one more hope, not one more care.
Not one more promise to be there.
Not one more laugh, not one more smile.
Not one more day, not one more mile.
Not one more chance, not one more walk
Not one more genial, hopeful talk.
Not one more
please

dawn 10/17/11

Sunday Speed Bump-Free Something or another

What happens when there's nothing left,
No one to turn to, no safety net?
What happens when, your bridges burned,
you realize its all been wrong turns?
What happens when you're alone with silence
and suddenly realized you can't stand the quiet?
What happens when you look around
and all you worked for is on the ground?
What then, my happy, cheerful freind,
will you tell me when I say its the end?

dawn 10/16/11

Cinquain

The sheer
amount of work
accomplished while we wait
for lines to be rehung fills me
with shame.

10/15/11 dawn (after the internet is reconnected)

Sonnet for 10/14 (no internet)

Erotic kisses wake me from a dream.
Lost in two fogs, I'm not sure where I am.
Are you the same old someone that you seem?
Or did I conjure you from Morpheus' land?

Your fingers trace a path upon my spine.
He enters me and opens me to touch.
You stroke my breasts and nibble 'til I whine.
He torments me with strokes when I crave thrusts.

Somehow I've lost the truth of real and smoke.
As you both take me, I'm just at the brink.
Then one of you is gone, and, my eyes closed
I try to guess which one, but I can't think.

My eyes stay glued, so I don't lose the spark;
this kind of lust is better in the dark.

dawn 10/14/11

Sonnet for 10/13 (no internet)

For once I broke out, tried to take a chance,
although the past had taught me not to hope.
At first you led me through an awful dance
and when I'd think I could no longer cope,

you'd pull a rabbit from your sorry ass,
convince me that you could become a prince.
My instincts told me just to take a pass,
my heart told me to wait and ever since

I've steeled myself to put up with your crap,
to see if there was someone underneath.
I've found that given time you go on trace
and now we've built a life we can believe.

So once I took a chance and healed my heart,
now taking chances is the way I start.

dawn 10/13/11

Sonnet

I'm certain that we've always been this way,
just didn't notice that we weren't in sync.
You act surprised to hear that I won't stay
and I'm too bored to tell you what I think.

I'm sure that looking back we'll both agree
that one of us was bound to make this choice.
Your anger is displayed so easily
'cause I have given you the victim's voice.

You may not ever thank me for this gift,
though I do hope you'll find your common sense.
You'll realize we'd nothing left to give
and thank the Lord I didn't keep you fenced.

Today you're sure you'll hate me through your life
but I was never meant to be your wife.


dawn 10/12/11

Villanelle

Abandoned in your carefree sleep,
your innocence a shield of brick,
you cannot hear me as I weep.

I watch you lie, the lies go deep
and yet I know your grubby tricks.
Abandoned in your carefree sleep,

you've no idea the watch I keep.
The layer of proof is soft and thick.
You cannot hear me as I weep,

because I know your talk is cheap.
What you profess is full of shit,
abandoned in your carefree sleep.

The lies are real, you've gone so deep
you fool yourself, you are so glib.
You cannot hear me as I weep.

You'll someday know what you have reaped.
I keep my counsel, while time ticks.
Abandoned in your carefree sleep,
you cannot hear me as I weep.

dawn 10/11/11

Sapphic

Fairies are floating through my kitchen window.
Monsters are lurking darkly beneath the bed.
Dragons have taken roost on neighbors rooftops,
their roars bewildered.

I've lost my fragile hold on normal thinking.
Waiting for unreal creatures to attack me
I've found theres little worse in life than fearing
my own creations.

dawn 10/10/11

Cinquain

One thought
carousels in
my mind. It won't retreat
until I resolve it. The the
next comes.

dawn 10/09/11

blank

Fortunately, it doesn't happen often
that I have little to say.
But this one time, I'm just
going to call it a day.
This little poem I will count
on my list.
But I won't be so proud,
so you can skip it.

10/08/11 dawn (shamefacedly)

aargh2

what's so different about me
what is it I cannot see
that divides me from the world
that confines me to these words?
what's so wrong with what I am?
what's the social traffic jam?
guess I have to be content
that my life is separate.

10/7/11 dawn

Sapphic

Lovely is not a word drawn on my photos.
Upbeat is not a term I've learned to love.
Perky is just about a mortal insult;
so you don't know me.

Even if I could be the charming woman,
something would always make it fall apart.
There's just too much in life that's tragic
to make me want to.

10/06/11 dawn

Sapphic

Burning, your eyes are focusing your message.
Pleading, you've never begged so hard before.
Churning, emotions play across your visage
it isn't pretty.

Anger is just a tool you use to bind me.
Sadness is what you fake to bring me back.
Journeys begin when we can shed the baggage.
I'll take the first step.


dawn 10/05/11

aargh

This is not my life.
I did not choose to be,
did not design this frame.
This is not my life.
Am I so lost that even
I am become strange?
This is not my life
I did not choose to be.
This life condemned me.

dawn 10/04/11

Sapphic

Forgiveness

Falling, drops of water down your face
unnoticed. I've gone beyond the urge
to help you. Instead I hand you
a fresh tissue.

Simply, I wish I cared how you are feeling.
But I am caught in my own anger
and so your guilt no longer moves me.
Except it does, some.

Someday, I'll find the weakness to forgive you ,
pretending that it never happened.
And we'll forget you ever hurt me.
Until you do.


dawn 10/2/11

Rondelet

Connor

Little bold one.
These years when I thought all this done,
little bold one.
Unexpected yet on the throne
fitting no mold but your own.
Little bold one.


dawn 10/1/11

happy birthday, Connor

Villanelle

Stand Alone

Stand alone and have your say
someone else will take your part
kindred souls will come your way.

Never let the silence weigh
you can only speak your heart
stand alone and have your say.

One strong voice can soon convey
a message, then the movement starts
kindred souls will come your way.

Silent protest holds no sway
voiced the hero makes his mark
stand alone and have your say.

Even if some are unswayed
even if the message jars
kindred souls will come your way.

When the time has come to pray
when injustice holds the fort
stand alone and have your say
kindred souls will come your way.

dawn 10/3/11

Rondelet.

Advice

Someday you'll find
that dreams can spoil the quiet life.
Someday you'll find
it's best to live outside your mind
then noone hears your inner cries
and noone cares when hoping dies.
Someday you'll find.


9/30/11 dawn

Free Verse (Guess I Lied)

boy and girl


dancing days, when our feet never touched the ground
no romance or pain, just the joy of life and being young
before you were a boy and I was a girl
when we were just friends and that was good
before it was a sin to swim naked in your wading pool
before you were a boy and I was a girl
when we could laugh at anything and feared nothing
when we could touch without blushing
before you were a boy and I was a girl
those were the dancing days, before our feet touched the ground

9/29/11 dawn

Free Verse

Heimweh

Homesick without a home
Longing for what no longer is
Yearning for a vanished life
Hoping for the impossible
Lonely for an ear that is deaf
Needing the patience to hurry
Borrowing the future
Searching for the past.

9/28/11 dawn

Free Verse

Why I Love My Mother

She beat me, belittled me,
called me a whore.
She broke me over and over.
She screamed, she shoved
she smashed my head.
She pulled my hair.
Is that not reason enough?
And why do I hate her?
She gave birth to me.

9/27/11 dawn

Triolet

Your false superiority
has angered me a bit.
Submit to your authority,
your false superiority?
No, I'm in the majority
you precocious little shit
and your false superiority
has angered me a bit.

dawn 9/26/11

Ballade

A Lot of Ghosts Here

Reunion, where we meet
The past we once ignored.
Memories, bittersweet,
Carry us through the door.
Like kids we were before
We seek friends we held dear.
Not the same anymore;
There's a lot of ghosts here.

"He's a drunk; she's a cheat,"
Gloats the former class whore.
My victory is complete
I know it's immature
This keeping silent score
Of those who don't adhere
To patterns of before.
See, they're all just ghosts here.

Gracious in their defeat,
Bleached cheerleaders sing for
Fat heroes of the field.
Laugh if you must, but pure
Nostalgia is a lure.
When the past interferes,
It's all just horse manure.
Just ask all the ghosts here.

Homecoming princess, you
Crown is missing a tier.
The girl we once adored.
Sees a lot of ghosts here.

9/24/11 dawn

Salted Cinquains

Disclaimer: If you are easily offended, do not read this post. Not that anyone is reading, but it would be my luck that someone would read it and go ballistic. If you do read it and are offended, tell your friends but not me. I don't care.

1.
Torn flesh,
lacerated,
whipped in loving patttern
by a consummate, skilled sadist.
Release.

2.
Beneath
me you gasp once,
shudder, sigh, turn away,
but I'm filled with the best portion
of you.

3.
Loving
implies gentle
caresses unless the
pleasure center is upside down
then pain.

4.
One long
smooth leg in the
air. Two boddies thrusting
forward then back until the door is
opened.

5.
Maybe
if I'm alone
there's a good reason.
Maybe I need time to sate
myself.



dawn 9/24/11

Epistolary

Classified

"Singularly unattractive mother of three
is seeking man with moderate intelligence
for good-humored conversation and John Denver karaoke.
Must NOT live with parents."

"Moderately intelligent man, thirty-four,
would love to sing Denver with you
Friday at eight at Morrie's pub.
I'll be in the red shirt."

"Singularly unattractive mother is forty-six.
Still want to meet Friday at eight?
If no reply, will assume yes.
I'll have purple flower in my hair."

"Sarah, I really enjoyed meeting you Friday.
Why do you say you're unattractive?
Sorry, but the chemistry just wasn't there.
Best wishes, John."

"John, my name is Rebecca. I was there
Friday, but you, I think, found
the wrong purple flower. Sorry it didn't work
for you and Sarah. Best wishes."


9/23/11 dawn

Pantoum

Perfection comes in tiny drops
dispensed by careful, measured gods.
First genius burns and then it stops.
Where once you flew, you only plod.

Dispensed by stingy, careful gods,
the writer hoards those unique thoughts
and dares to fly instead of plod
until the words are felled by drought.

The writer hoarding unique thoughts
when those are gone cannot abstain
and though the words are felled by drought,
attempts to fit them to the page.

When thoughts are gone, oh please abstain;
genius will burn though now it's stopped.
Just put aside the empty page.
Perfection comes in tiny drops.

9/22/11 dawn


dedicated to Professor Gary Mitchner, who unlocked the poetry for me.

Quatrains

Your eyes peek through the modest veil
of liner and mascara, another brilliant mask.
It works for you; no one will wail
in recognition as you scurry, unasked,

from mouse houle to mouse hole, always
avoiding those who might challenge your reflexed
dodging. You find smaller haunts each day,
wriggling your way into cramped duplexes

where you won't be held to account
for the noisome emptiness of your soul.
You'll find one day that no amount
of hiding will protect you from your goal.

9/21/11 dawn

Cinquain

In Fives

1
Truncate
treetrops are flat
we must reshape nature
and limit the things we cannot
improve.

2.
Young legs
take the stairs tow,
three at a time. Envy;
I don't remember feeling such
vigor.

3.
First drag
in the morning.
Relief and shame. My life
circumscribed by the stick that will
kill me.

4.
I wear
black because I
define it. It is mine the
way sunshine belongs to children.
They grow.

5.
Cinquain:
A quick outlet
for ideas not ready
to lend themselves to the weighty
canzone.


9/20/22 dawn

Unlabeled for my Convenience

I was tired and the rain woke me.
I was sad and the thunder cheered me.
I was dull and the lightning charged me.
I was in tears and the water soothed me.

I was lost til the wilderness found me.
I was tame til a man trained me.
I was alone til the crowds left me.
I was in tears til the water soothed me.

I will wake when sleep has claimed me.
I will dance when the ground holds me.
I will be free when ties bind me.
I won't cry when the waters take me.





9/19/11 dawn

Five Cinquains on a Rainy Monday

1.
Mother
you gave me your
anger but never a
sign that approval was mine.
Failure.

2.
Hopeless
is not the right
antonym for hopeful. It
ought to be much stronger, as in
bereft.

3.
Daughters
can never be
sons, can never be men or
scions. Daughters are still only
girl things.

4.
Follow
the right path and
meet me in heaven. Or don't.
Your apathy is equal to
my pride.

5.
Wordless
people stretch their hands
out empty and snatch them
back filled with guilt, pity and love,
then run.


9/19/11 dawn

Free Verse (kind of)

If I had dreams
(a luxury I gave up long ago)
they'd seem very ordinary to
my younger self.

If I had hopes
(a foolish pasttime, don't you agree?)
they'd be so minor as to
escape Pandora's notice.

If I could pray
(a habit lost when God turned away from me)
I'd ask for very little as
that is all I deserve.

If I had tears
(I used to cry easily, but no longer)
I'd save them for the
wrecks I've made in other's lives.

If I had time
(a commodity in scant supply these days)
I'd change just one thing
and then all would be right.


9/18/11 dawn

Cinquain

Again

Once more
we set upon
a path we did not choose.
We curse the pathmakers,
then go.


9/17/11 dawn

Pantoum

I Go to Wake the Dead

I go to wake the sleeping dead,
Not gently but with raucous noises.
I want to know if they feel dread
When required to defend their choices.

Not gently, but with forceful noise,
I demand they lay their secrets bare.
If required to defend this choice,
I’ll simply state “Because I dare.”

My demand they lay their secrets bare
Will be met with incredulity
But this I’ll do because I dare,
And dead secrets deserve no sympathy.

I’ll counter your incredulity
With “Well, you’d doubtless do the same.”
Dead secrets deserve no sympathy,
And old corpses can scarcely feel the shame.

These dead men, they would do the same
To satisfy questions long left cold
Old corpses, feeling little shame
Will feel no better when they’ve told.

Satisfied, my questions will again grow cold,
And I’ll also know if they felt dread.
Dead secrets are better when they’re told,
So I go to wake the sleeping dead.


2003 (posted 9/16/11) dawn

Rondelet

The Twins


I feel them still.
They're hand in hand in all my dreams.
I feel them still.
My empty womb enfolds them still.
Though buried under waving trees,
I cannot bring myself to see,
I feel them still.



9/16/11 dawn

Free Verse

I went to the funeral of a child yesterday
Not someone I knew well, but someone’s child
Someone’s hope and dreams were being buried
Under the dead winter grass and the bright sunshine
Seemed to mock a father’s grief

I went to the funeral of a man yesterday
Not long a man, but a husband, a father
And their future was being laid to rest
As the wedding ring, still untarnished
Twinkled on a slender, shaking hand

I went to the funeral of a nephew yesterday
A grandson, a brother, a friend
Hoping that all turmoil and selfishness
Could be put aside for one brilliant, cold
Afternoon of grief

I went to the funeral and I learned, yesterday
That there is only tragedy in the death
Of a young man, that people don’t become better
Or worse through grief and that I want to die
Before my child.



03/24/2011 dawn

Sonnet

Always, There is Regret

There's freedom in your eyes, you're so adept,
inviting me to join you in your play.
That kind of freedom's way beyond my depth,
though it's a struggle just to walk away.


Regretting is my least besetting sin;
I've made so many errors I deserve
to replay chances missed and my chagrin
is not misplaced or wasted. Please observe


my hands no longer tremble when you pass.
You were a longed-for possibility
but possibilities are molten glass;
unshaped they turn to puddles of debris.


When I said no, I saved us both some pain,
but won't regret regretting you again.




2001 (posted 9/15/11) dawn

Kyrielle

Behavioral Isolation




Those words, spoken in anger, words
you didn't mean, didn't want heard;
they flew out, angry hurtful birds.
Those moments always get away.

Tiny sins, piled high through the years,
never quite cause visible tears
but remembered long, it appears.
The moment always gets away.

Until one day, they look at you
with hate. The way you always knew
they'd feel because you can't undo
the moments that all got away.

It's too late for sorry, too late
to make amends. Time didn't wait;
you always did procrastinate
and the moments you let get away

won't come back. So your mouth is dry
as they say that final goodbye
but you aren't allowed time to cry;
that moment also got away.



2002/2003 (published 9/17/11) dawn

Quantative Accentual

Dear Alisa, I Surrender

I found this note in your pants. She has a pretty
name. Alisa. Is that how you say it?
And is she pretty enough to
live up to her name? She
likes you, it's quite
a note.

But you'll have to admit that her spelling is bad.
She uses little hearts to dot her i's. How
old is she? Don't stare at me like
that; I'm just curious
I think I have
a right.

No, it’s been a couple days; I'm over the shock.
I've spent the time deciding what to do.
I thought I'd watch you, see if you
appeared guilty, if I'd
missed some clue. Was
I dumb?

to miss this addition of Alisa to our
lives? You're good at it, covering your trail
This note was your only mistake.
Have you had practice? Is
she the first or
the last?

Don't answer. It doesn't matter. I was trying
to decide, you know, what to do about
this, and I realized I just
don't give a shit. It's
over and I
don't care.

Triolet

Am I Not?





There ain't nobody like me,
and that's not such a good thing;
it makes a person lonely.
There ain't nobody likes me.
I can't say I disagree;
I'm kinda irritating.
There ain't nobody like me
but maybe that's a good thing.

When I think about my life,
which I try not to, often,
I'm someone's mother or wife.
I don't think about my life,
when I can help it. I like
to reinvent and soften,
when I think about my life,
which I try not, too often.


2002/3 (published 9/17/11) dawn

Sapphic

A Paralyzing Sense of Responsibility




Ugly, my thoughts today are full of nasty
subjects. I want to make the world unhappy.
Angry does not describe the way I'm feeling.
I'd kill my children.


Sort of, I understand those wretched women
maddened by life's recurrent dose of bullshit.
Thankful I can control my rampant "ugly"
until tomorrow.


Sorry, I can't regain the old complacence.
Gnashing, my teeth are grinding life to powder.
Children should not be careful of their mothers
but sometimes mine are.




2002/3 (published 9/17/11) dawn

Haiku

Why I Left California



I didn't see it,
only felt its vast power.
A mountain moving.

It stopped, but the ground,
unleashed, no inclination
to stop, ran forward.

Time is stopped by one
massive geologic cough
and then sirens wail.




2002/3 (published 9/17/11) dawn

Canzone

With Our Own Skin We Feel



How raspy, the feel of your skin
against mine. Your hands are rough;
they do strange things to my skin.
It's only after, when we are skin to skin,
that the roughness seems to soften.
Then, oh God, then it is just skin
meeting, joining, burning. Then,
when those moments have passed, then
it is rough again, battered skin
that I want to smooth but what could
soothe such roughness? I know I could

find balms, ointments, but I don't think I could
banish the rough edges of your skin.
If I take away the rough, you could
not make my body feel as if sandpaper could
caress like satin. I push away your rough
hands, as if their harsh touch could
dull my desire, as if you should, could
change those hands or even soften
their impact, but they persist. I soften
my resistance as my lust increases, because I could
never turn those hands away. Then
all it takes is one more touch to make me squirm, then

cry out to you, begging you to touch again. If then
I am caressed roughly by your skin, I could
only blame myself. It's then, only then,
that I know how easily I'm won. So then
I resolve that next time your skin
won't touch mine. I am strong, then,
in the aftermath, resolute even, but then
your hands catch my back unguarded. Rough
and sure they travel down my spine, rough-
ly turning me without any protest, then
leaving my body, to tease. I cry out and you soften,
return. Those hands don't soften.

They grate and pull my and my resolve softens
and I an not stop you because then
I am yours, and though I soften,
I am both ashamed and eager, no soften-
ing of either hatred or desire could
be possible by now. So I soften
the blow to my pride with words that soften
your expression until you please me with your skin
again. I want you, I don't, but your skin
against mine is insistent until I soften
beneath you and melt into sheets rough-
ened by use. "You're too rough!"

I cry but you dismiss my life and rough
hands reach for me across the bed, soften-
ing only when they touch the tender places; rough-
ness is reserved for stronger skin. I rough-
ly try to answer you, but I know then
that I will always be the one who is rough-
handled. I cannot pretend to be rough
with my soft, lotioned hands, never could.
But I accept you this time, fool myself that I could
be the one to sand away the rough-
ness, although I know that your skin,
rough as you, brings pleasure to my skin.

So I reach one more time, skin
aching to be smoothed by your rough
hands. And when at last you soften,
I am sated, exhausted, wondering then,
again, if maybe I could.







2003 (published 9/17/11) dawn

Rondeau

You touched me once and then drew back
as though from acid. Was it tact
that made you mumble and retreat?
Or did you spy, dark and complete
the future if we stayed that track?

A later time, you didn't lack
the courage to complete the task.
You finally let our bodies meet
You touched me once.

I watched you run, did not react.
Our silence was it's own compact.
An easier end it must have seemed;
no encouragement to dream.
Still, there are questions I would ask.
You touched me once.

9/15/11 dawn

Pantoum

Morning comes too soon these days
a sad return to normal life.
I live in dreams, the only way
I can exist in stark sunlight.

As I return to normal life,
familiar things are shaded strange;
they do exist in bright sunlight,
but through dream filters all has changed.

Familiar things become so strange
I cannot navigate my path.
With all the filters dreaming changed
I cannot shudder, only laugh.

I've stepped away from normal paths
to save my soul now reason's gone.
I ought to shiver, but I laugh
to see the wreck my life's become.

To save my soul, since reason's gone
I live in dreams, the only way
to hide the wreck my life's become.
Morning comes too soon these days.

9/14/11 dawn