My Favorite Toy

I want to play
with my favorite toy
but it has recalled itself from my shelf
because of defective parts.
It is in indefinite repair
of loosened screws I thought
I could
fix
but now I find
it doesn't want to be
screwed
by me
anymore.
I think my toy
grew scared of our
games
and now
it's afraid
to play.
I see it run
the other way
when I enter
the playroom.
It said it wants
to play
with other toys.
"This city has many pretty toys,"
but they can't play
as well
as
me.
My toy is looking
for parts
to fix its defects
in other, prettier toys.
It doesn't know
that I can help it
rebuild
and keep it glued
together
because I am
complete
and
I
am
not
a
toy.
I am the best playmate in town.
Someday soon it will grow bored of those pretty toys
and ask to enter my playroom
again.
But my toy has been in the shop
for too long
and I have started to forget
our games.
I grow tired of playing alone
and waiting for my
favorite toy to mend
itself.
I think that soon
I'll need to go shopping for
another toy
to fill the emptiness
in
my
playroom.

Intermezzo

So back from Poland and what an incredible experience that was.......intense emotions to say the least, particularly with all the WWII and Holocaust-related sites.  But if you're not into self-inducing a nervous breakdown on your vacations, (as apparently I am...), you should still experience Poland at the very least for the magnificent beauty that are their churches.  They are absolute works of art.....and talking about art......it's time for me to get back to some writing....:)

I'm going to continue posting some oldies while I continue to work on some new stuff....way too many partially completed poems that are begging to be finished, but how to find inspiration in 100+ degree temps and crazy-making humidity??? I'll have to give that one some thought....LOL

Still

A Still,
a photograph,
a snapshot of my life.
I see that time is
slipping,
the clock is
ticking,
and yet,
I remain Still
immobile,
in silence,
frozen in time,
locked in place,
in space
and I remain Still
asleep,
awake,
in a dreamlike state
I dissociate,
eviscerate,
unable to emancipate,
I lose myself
to save my Self
so
here
I
am
Still.

Intermezzo, sesta parte

Aloha chitlins......:)

Greetings from the NYC area where Mother Nature has yet to figure out if it is fall, winter or spring.......apparently she's as confused as the rest of us....:)

I've posted a couple of poems since my last "Intermezzo" update...the most recent, "Beginnings" I wrote last year and the two before that "The Key" and "H2O" was written in my 20's...I'm hoping to complete the obscene amount of partially completed poems that span the last 15-20 years hopefully before I start collecting Social Security- assuming it's still around when I'm ready to cash in that is....of course that's a whole other discussion...in the meantime I have plenty of already completed poems to keep posting so I shall continue as planned........

I'm happy to report that a bout of insomnia last nite led to some major progress on a very new poem, so we shall see where that goes.  I figure if you can't sleep, might as well write.....don't you agree????

Beginnings

The story not written,
a path left to unfold.
Blank pages lay lifeless
that have yet to be told.
What feeds you,
your essence,
this body
of light.
The lyrics inside you,
the song you must write.
Muted voices,
stifled words.
A melody
of silence,
a darkness
that blinds.
Give reason to being.
A breath whispered to life,
that was never
alive.
Give voice to a fire
that lays dormant
within.
A spark to ignite,
and so it begins.....

The Key

Like wombs
I burst from pain
then drown through
tears
in afterbirths
of rain.
I writhe
like serpents
under blackened skies
but find no solace
from these deafened
cries.
From crystals bathed
in full moon's light
I kiss the wounds
from distant
pasts
but yet
the sores of this
life's ills
seek to ferment-
they haunt me
still.
Past lives cannot
my pains
abate
but it does not
seal
my fate.
For in this life
I hold
the key
to set my spirit
free.
Unshackle me
I pray.
I cannot
fight
the haunts that come
at
night.
I am left to soak
in the sponge
of my own
torment.
Unlock the gate you say?
My soul has fled
so
far
away.
In search
of peace,
to free
my sins,
I fear
that I must look
within.

H2O

Think of me
a lake
and plunge into me,
my spring.
Your moistened tips
do render me
lazy
with dis-use.
I drive
a frantic urge
away from
white springs of
sea
where you have
drained me
of my
flood waters.
Think of me
a lake
with rapids
frozen still
where only
sweat streams
keep me
damp.
But unlike lakes,
I will not
feel you wet
with ease,
for I have dried
into
a brook
that's lost
its route
into
the
sea.