Surrender

I sense the need for strategy, a battle plan, or at very least,
                                    a change.
The inner man is
centering
while appetite of
                                         flesh, unsated
                                                               draws lines.
                       So, I study plot and step,
                                                   a map of curious sorts.
Heat creeps in, elated, breaking
                                    breach of peace
                                         and pursuant, she circles round my frail human variance,
                                                                               exposing weakened will.

To keep within,
                                                  hold fast
to
letting go.
War is a theme, but there are many ways to fight, and
               the true hero, though he
                 evades not danger,
waits for call.
    I crouch and listen.
and when signal sounds,
               shift course,
weave through enemy land.
    Armed at last with quietude, I am unafraid.
                                                  I find victory
                                     
                                       in surrender.

The Mag
Poetry Jam
 

Layers of Whole

Maybe you tried
                  to make your way to me,
 but
                  the road was slanted.

Maybe I was haunted,
 the sky
                  striped in grey warning,
scenery, shaming.
                                                                           Maybe, I'm Remorse you can't
                                                                                                                      restore.
                                                                                                                      Record says,
                                                                                                                                  straight twisted
like a strudel.  Who am I to vie or even wonder
                       when
you're changing daily?
It was a nice performance,
but you
           can't deny,
I'm empty now, abandoned, unsteady as Abele but filling out fast.  Do
                        you recognize me, overgrown, scored in shadows?  With
                                                                                                                               the
slight
switch and the twitch in my gait?  The
  whole convoluted scheme, male by design, a low,
        long song
sounding war,
 but I'm cat-like sly,
purring, plotting,
calculating miles, while you mime care -
face painted
blank as white.
              What did you think?  You could
                                                       camp outside my door till you were
                                                                                                          ready?
Well, I'm in
            my prime - it's time for you to worry it
                               through.
 It flows
                                                  flying and hard now, so come in
                                                                              where it's warm, there's
                                                                                                 a footpath
                                                                                                   for you to follow, or steal away at
night, revenge the prize and
     highest price you'll pay.
Man is the reason and woman the rhyme and you
                                   wormed in and I roamed out.  If you could see me now,
                                                in my purple overcoat, bangles of bracelets, fitting in where
                                                 I didn't want
                                                          to -
it would be good for your head.  I can't make out your difference but your signature
                                                                                                                  scrawl gave away and
slandered how I handle
 my name.  Hung on your handwriting, who's gonna cave?  Soon, I'm
moving, the clouds absorbing sense and the air
       is bland.  We're at the wrap up now.  I am swollen, weighty, and departing.  Find me with your flame.

The Mag
Poetry Jam

Parting

I'm not giving you
                          up;
 I'm  letting you go.
 And I'm trying to
explain the difference,
 and once again,
 I'm getting nothing
                   done.

  I'm trying not
                                   to leave you with claw marks,
 but you're mauled, and
                  my hair is messed like I've been in a bar brawl,
                                                                                      so, I guess the secret's out,
I'm
no good at
               this.  The

sun is
shining an alarm in all its yellow.  The sound of bells surrounds, goad that it's time,
 and I'm stuck inside.

Flexing beneath
                     that first kiss,
 I gave you my fear, abandoned
               apprehension.
 Did you hear me sigh that night,
                               in that place, where all was sacred?  We
                                    hiked on into evening, leaving heat of day, gleaning as we
                                                                                                                         went,
momentum
 from the darker, browner
 prints
 in the
            trail
where the
              recent rain
had marked out simple notions.  The willow
                                                      weeds mourned our descent, and so
                                                                                    did I,
still sated
by the memory and the potion of that earliest taste.  I would not
     trade that
     trace of pearl-
                         like found promise on your tongue.
                                                                    Take away the
                                                                     thrill, the favor and the savor but not
                                                                     the choice, and
                                                                                 I'm sorry now, wading
                                                                                 in the wide wait well of
sacrifice.  Penetrated by the prize, full
        from wine
         ripened in pursuit, so
                                   this pull away like the forced crawl of the
                                                                                 cherished thing now clipped of wings and wasting.
     Scared, I bring an offering - an
        account of all
I'm not.  Hold it tight,
          the

racing.  Have me when I'm grown.

Poetry Jam
We Write Poems

Cloudburst

The surprise of your laughter- head thrown back, eyes grooved.  Really laughing.
Drench me in it.
             It's new to me.  Or if
             I knew it once, the marvel resurrected like those women clothed in rose.
 Another gift.  I find them everywhere, wrapped with
             thought.
A scavenger hunt for joy.

Poetry Jam

We flew to the moon

We flew to
             the moon via balloon,
watched the earth
shrink
smaller and smaller until it was a trifling, pea sized ball.
                                  I felt so light.
 
                                        The moon was a field of flowers:
poppies and tulips and whatever you like and the grass waved a welcome and we laid
                                               right down.  I looked at
                                                    the sky,
                                                         still blue here and thought about our getaway,
                                                                      how it was planned years ago. You were the
                                                                        ones.

The boy ran to his father, embraced in so much love and you girls, twirled, arms outstretched, giggling, flowing with the air, simple, fancy dresses fluttering with your steps and I closed my eyes, smiled
and relaxed.
Then He and I floated on a raft crafted from wood, square and big enough.

                                           Fear did not exist.


Poetry Jam