The Arrogance of Poets (other than me)

Using Big Words such as hibernaculum
Conundrum, and ubiquitous - as status symbols
of useless knowledge and higher education
I have studied the classics therefore I can
invoke the ghost of Madea (you know the jilted lover of  Jason the Jerk of Argonaut fame)
Yes, he fleeced her if you know what I mean (its so golden)
and if you don't then you are not as literate as I
And if that is not enough I will use meter and feet
and iambic pentameter - isn't that neat
I am not that smart - my poems such as they are
act as fists, raging forth, in your face
Can you feel their pulse ? Can you feel their force ?
Like used car salesmen - they cajole, and smooth talk you
and cry for pity, writhing in pain
and beg (yes, I am not above begging for what I want)
I want you - your attention, your focus, your mind, your eyes on my page
locked by words, my words holding you tight like a hug from empty heart
I am not smart enough to send you to the dictionary or thesarus
Or to have you rush out for Cliff's Notes - no graduate student will ever do a Thesis on me.
Better for them to
Feel Me, feel the mood I used to write this crap, I am poster hanging on the wall
my words, my poems cover up the hideous wallpaper beneath I call life. Your life, of course
did you think I was arrogant enough to mean me?

Two Roses by Some Other Name

 A Rose is a Rose by any Other Name (some other poet)

Rose Rose
Up from her seat
Red with flowery flowers
Red with Lipstick
She looked to be from Tokyo
She looked to me for poetry
Covered from head to toe
Rose one Rose two Rose three
Across her chest sewn on her vest
I have never seen a rose such as she

Rose Rose
up in the sky
not quite so red
Still I wonder why ?
Oh hello Dali
can you explain
the head of rose above the plain
Is this the Sun you never had ?
maybe Rose knows
(but she is Mum).

Now I Am The Light Seeker

I am seeking new realms with rainbow wings.
Behind me are the storms and turbulent winds
of the past
raindrops glisten in the sun’s warmth
reflecting prisms of light on soft body,

fear, my cocoon, my refuge my womb
lies on the ground no longer needed
Now I fly high, stretching
wing muscles released from supine position,
pleased that nature’s
kisses have welcomed my take-off
into uncharted territory.

Eagles wink at me, as I ride
in their tail winds
my new wings waffle from
fatigue, but then strengthen,
like arrows furrowed
I feel sun’s rays pulling me
closer, a forceful yet warm embrace
and my
butterfly wings beat a melody
of joyful anticipation humming tunes
that rise higher and higher. crescendo
climax as sun and I dance,
waves of energy entwine and rejuvenate
my heart now so huge.
Now I am the Light Seeker
              By Beverly Bronson  ©April 2011

Hinting

If this reads as vague, I apologize
You see, or maybe you don't,
and that is all my fault because
I should have spelled it out more clearly

What I want, so terribly want, is to tell you
What I want.
And not just that
But everything
All the emotions, all the thoughts, ideas, joys, desires, visions, screams and dreams - tears, laughs, and yes oh God yes moods
each and everyone of them
Everything.
I want to become drunk with the energy that comes from releasing
letting go of all that has waited, dressed up and ready to go - get the car and come around - the rushing madness of the flood of words, levee breaking, dam busting torrent that can no longer be denied, tsunami waves blasting forth barely forming words let alone phrases, sputtering from lack of air because I forgot to breathe - I am like the little child that cannot bear to let you go because you alone out of all the people in the world
Listen to me.
Or would, maybe. 

But You are not ready for that
I can see it in your face
your eyes as they trace the path of your escape
No need. I will not start.
I will listen and wait and drink and put on my happy face.

The Trouble With Digging In Someone Else'sDirt

Ostensibly, we were there to dig

To make a hole big enough

Deep enough so that what

We were about to bury

Would never bother us again

Even in the first shovelfuls

Tiny ones really, barely braking

The surface sod – I knew

She would not be satisfied

For there is no depth that can

Cover a ghost, a memory,

Or that mysterious something else

Which shall, if she has her way,

Go nameless, unspoken of, and

Yet not completely forgotten.

My mother was the same way,

That is in her approach to things

That scared her – nothing was said

No mind was paid to it, despite

Its ghostly fingers touching everything

Pleading for release, Let me go, please

Please, please – let me go

They were, of course,  things of a highly scary nature,

The things that touch the Heart

Things that had one mission in life

To touch the heart – Now they are piled up

Like junk in a hoarder’s  garage

Some have been abandoned so long

They have lost their form – no longer those words said in anger or frustration or loss

They are now: hurt, sadness, and bad.

Chained to the door that blocks the heart.

The hole is now nearly five feet deep

Five feet long and four feet wide

Doris frets that it is not enough

I sense that I am in over my head.

©Frank Coughlin April 2011

One Day Everyday

The road was right
in front of me
why did I turn
off onto this
route to nowhere.

Call it a quirk
something strangely
compellingly
odd, but it was
me inside out
There in front of
all I cared for
crying because
it appeared dead.

Wait, she sighed, this
is all too vague.
Say what you mean.
In plain clear words.

Okay I said.
thought I was dead
turns out I had
never been born.
You have not known
the real person
hidden inside

Someone I have
kept tucked away
from friends and foes,
hidden from sight.
I was afraid
to be the me
the one down deep
the I, I am.

On this day I
proclaim myself
to be myself
to lead by not
leading, just by
being who I am.

©Frank Coughlin April 2011

MOving ON

the Wheel of Fortune
Favors no one - How Zen
Yet You pretend nothing
Ever changes - truth is
Nothing Stays the same

Moon Phases In and Out
Leaving today behind
Yet You pretend no changes
are ever needed at least
those concerning you

I grew to love you
Beyond that silly first sight
So many years ago
You must have thought
I liked a certain something
about you - yet You could not
figure what it was So you
Went out of yourself
To stay the same.

I love you more than chocolate
you know the good rich dark kind
And hot coffee in the morning
has nothing on you.
A Chinese feast could not satisfy me
more than being with you.
I could not eat another bite,

Sadly the same is true with you
The chocolate makes my face break out
the coffee is bad for my heart
The Chinese food makes me fat
And our love life is flat.
The wheel of Fortune spins again
and you are nowhere to be found.