Prancing Pony Poetry

Hourglass Poetry

2011-12-21T17:02:00.000-08:00

Hourglass Poetry

Today's poem. Mentions solstice, time, life, death.

My Poetry on Squidoo

2011-08-11T08:35:00.000-07:00

I just started adding my poetry to Squidoo. http://www.squidoo.com/waxing-poetic-1 The series is called Waxing poetic. So this first one is Waxing Poetic 1. Please drop by and take a look.

Helpless -poetry-

2010-06-16T19:13:00.000-07:00

Helpless -poetry-

The Heartbreak Poem

2010-03-23T10:10:00.000-07:00

The Heartbreak

My heart hurts

I treated you like diamonds

You treated me like dirt

Your indifference is the biggest cruelty

You know she doesn't love you

You are just a part of her entourage

One day she'll add fresh meat

And you won't make the cut

I will have scar tissue then

And I will look the other way

And I won't need you anymore

Stories In Flight | FlickrPoet

2009-12-17T17:53:00.000-08:00

Stories In Flight FlickrPoet

Foodie Poem by me

2009-12-17T17:51:00.001-08:00

Be mellow like Jello. Be smart like a cherry tart. Don't lie like pecan pie. Don't be scorned, be popcorn.

Behind the Orange Curtain

2009-10-23T09:59:00.000-07:00

I wrote some new poetry yesterday and today and posted it to my Poetic Muse site on Hubpages. This is the one I just finished 'ORANGE CURTAIN'. If you go there you will find over 100 of my poems.

Penny For Your Thoughts

2009-08-25T19:35:00.000-07:00

I wrote a new poem last night. Penny It was very late when I wrote it. But today I like it still.

Seasons

2009-03-28T17:32:00.000-07:00

Tears running down and down

Snow melt rivers turning into rapids

Seasons change

Hearts change

Spring blizzards crush early flowers

Jack Frost is not ready to slip into the floes

Not until he has his last laugh

But even he cannot hold sway on the turning of the wheel

DREAM 102

2009-03-28T17:25:00.000-07:00

I dreamed of you last night again

You were in my bed our arms and legs entwined

Listening to the rain outside my window

My long brown hair spiraling across your chest

As I listened to your heart

Amazing how clear a dream can be

Happy Dreaming

2009-03-28T17:24:00.001-07:00

Comments - Graphics - Layouts - Photobucket

Camping in Springville

2009-03-23T08:03:00.000-07:00

Camped underneath the stately cottonwood tree
Covered with new buds and awaiting spring
Splotches of sunshine fell on the meadow grass
While we pitched our tent
The hills were covered with the purple of lupines
Yellow mustard and white forget-me-nots
Spotting the occasional wild turkey
The river chilly from the snow melt
Mario catches a bass
When he cleaned it he found a live crawdad inside
The redbud trees were blooming
Tiny heart shaped leaves were just sprouting
The archers wandered up to the hills
To look for ground squirrels and things to plink at
The sound of hammer on metal ringing through the air
From the blacksmith's workshop
We had two spring days and one winter day
The pelting rain soaking our tent and canopy
While we rushed to pack up and head back to the city
My clothes and shoes soaked from slogging through the mud and rain
Powdery snow now dusting the hilltops
As we waved goodbye to old friends and new

After the Storm

2009-03-18T11:48:00.001-07:00

The day dawned and I was still here

I had survived the emotional war

Next time I may not come back from the abyss

While I was sleeping last night I stopped breathing

I woke up abruptly gasping for air

It's stress I tell myself

Fallout from the last three days

I'm not so worried today

I feel better overall

Even though I have a terrible migraine

Still better than yesterday though

The sun is shining today

The warmth feels good even though I have to keep my eyes shut

Blue eyes are sensitive or so I hear

Selective Vision

2009-03-17T10:04:00.001-07:00

How could I have been so obsessed with you to the point that I didn't even see it coming?

How could I have assumed you wouldn't wander off the minute I turned my back?

Oh yes there were clues, but then aren't there always?

It is only human to have selective vision.

To only see what I wanted to see.

WALLFLOWER

2009-03-17T09:19:00.000-07:00

I am awake long past the time I should be awake

I think about the futility of life

And how fragile it is

How a few days without food or sleep or water can ruin us

How we are caught up in our own illusions

How we are perpetually lonely no matter how we try to cling to others

They have their own drama to live

Their own storyline to play out

We can dance with them for awhile but then the dance moves on

Spinning out of control and I am once again standing alone in a dark corner

My Poetry on Hubpages

2009-03-06T11:35:00.000-08:00

Hubpages has a new system for categorizing articles. So now I'm going through all my poetry on that site bit by bit and adding both my blog RSS feed and an appropriate category. It took me a bit to find where the right categories were hidden. They are under writing, then you can use the pull down menu to go to poetry and then to what type of poetry like haiku or sestina. I also noticed that once you do an edit, the page won't reload until you add a category. Feel free to read my poetry and how-to articles over on hubpages.

Twila Reid Park on a Friday

2009-03-06T11:21:00.000-08:00

Fat men in red shirts playing Frisbee golf
An electric blanket drying over a picnic table
A perfectly good playground with no one in it

Halloween Poem

2008-10-14T19:48:00.001-07:00

Yay, I got my first poem published on Associated Content. It's a Halloween poem and you can view it here: http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1099749/the_little_monsters_of_main_street.html?cat=10

2008-09-08T11:56:00.001-07:00

I just signed up for Tagfoot. http://ping.fm/lfV6m Come see all my links and comments and my wishlist.

2008-08-31T22:36:00.001-07:00

Want to join ping.fm too? Go to http://www.ping.fm.Use the code 'legendofping' and you could have the luxury of posting to all your blogs in one fell swoop like I do. Way more efficient than doing it one by one.

2008-08-31T22:34:00.001-07:00

I'm not sure what 'ping my default' means but I guess I'll find out when I hit send.

Of what use poetry

2008-08-30T14:51:00.000-07:00

http://hubpages.com/hub/Of-What-Use-poetry

My new poems are over at that link.

http://hubpages.com/hub/Flotillaa-poem

2008-08-28T13:41:00.001-07:00

The week sure went by quick. I had a lot more planned but didn't have the energy to do it. My hands are still sore from woodcarving, and so I've had to lay off the knitting and crocheting. I'm looking forward to the weekend. My daughter may visit. We'll see.

2008-08-27T10:09:00.001-07:00

Come view my Flickr photo stream. Over 3000 photos I've taken are waiting there for your pleasure. http://ping.fm/3TTAi

2008-08-27T09:54:00.001-07:00

I just signed up for Ping.fm to make social networking more effiecient.

Ouch: A poem about heartbreak

2008-01-23T16:00:00.001-08:00

OUCH

Life is like a collage
Full of torn and tattered bits
The piece of my heart that you stole from me
Your rages and your fits

I wasn’t the only one you hurt you know
There was that four letter word you call ‘wife’
I guess you weren’t planning to tell me about her
Your secret other life

Oh and what about your daughter
She’s only four or five
She won’t know why mommy is crying
While you go out for a drive

Well now I’m glad you dumped me
Biggest favor you could have done
But did you think I wouldn’t know
That now you and my best friend are having fun?

Oh I told her you were married
This best friend of mine
She said I was a liar
And her and you were doing fine

More Than Words

2008-01-23T15:26:00.000-08:00

The whole universe lives in the library

Countries real and imaginary

Peoples mundane and unusual

All the food you could ever hope to consume in a lifetime

And you

I found you in the stacks on the third floor between botany and calligraphy

You seemed charming in your threadbare skirts

And tattered scarf

Your thick black rimmed cat's eyed glasses perched on your nose

You were fondling the spine of a book

Running your long fingertip from top to bottom

Then you gently pushed it back into line with the other books

And headed down the stairs

When I could no longer see the top of your head

I sidled over to have a look

"How to Build a Romantic Arboretum

Creating a garden that is as beautiful as you are."

I checked out the book to remind me of you

"Did you get anything good at the library?" my wife asked me.

"Just a book on gardening."

Poetic Muse

2006-09-29T16:02:00.000-07:00

I just don't have many readers on blogger, so I've started posting some of my poetry over here too.

http://hubpages.com/profile/Poetic+Muse

Poetry,Homesick

2006-07-30T17:28:00.000-07:00

Homesick

I miss the beauty of Central California
I long for the green rolling hills in the springtime that are sprinkled with grazing cows
I need to walk along Spooner’s Cove and feel the tumbled pebbles beneath my feet
To take a little harbor cruise on Tiger’s Folly past where the great blue herons nest
High up in the tallest grove of trees
I need to wade in the sand and feel for clams with my toes along Pismo Beach
I want to take long deep breaths of salty air by Morro Rock
And watch the kayaks gliding through the water near the sandbar
I want to experience the monarch migration that stops in Arroyo Grande
And see thousands of monarchs hanging like autumn leaves up in the eucalyptus trees
I even miss the cheesy farmer’s market in downtown San Luis Obispo every Thursday night
I still haven’t made it out to the Nipomo Dunes and we never did find the Indian caves
There is always more to explore
I miss the whales I spotted off of the Cayucos pier
And I am sad that I never took the time to paint in Mission Plaza
I will have to remedy that some day

The Power of Woman

2006-05-26T09:36:00.000-07:00

The Power of Woman

We will not be suppressed
You can take away our homes
You can take away our children
You can cut us till we bleed
And beat us till our bones break
And still
We will have the innate power of creation
You can suppress us, repress us and depress us
But we will still be the light of the world
We the wives and lovers and mothers and sisters and daughters will take back the earth
We will tend nature’s garden
And raise orphans and the children born of rape
To do that we must learn not to be financially or emotionally or physically dependent on men
We must take back the night and our power
We are the moon pulling the tides of change
We are the Goddess within and the Goddess without

Frog

2006-05-26T09:25:00.000-07:00

Frog in pond. Happy.
Frog hops away from crane beak.
Frog in road. Flat.

Blessing to my Friends

2006-03-03T11:03:00.000-08:00

Blessing to all my friends
May you wake up happier than you went to sleep.

May this rain wash away all your pain and cleanse your soul.

Just for today, be as pure as the snow.

May your immune system be as strong as an oak, but as flexible as a willow.

May your possessions be fewer but your joy greater.

For right now, practice being on your own side.

If love is a battlefield, may you be a nurse.

Some people get pleasure from seeing others in pain.

Try not to be one of them.

We all have nuts on our family tree.

May you learn to love all your family while you still have a family to love.

I came, I saw, I loved.

Radiate love.

Juggling in January

2006-01-21T12:06:00.000-08:00

Juggling in January

My only audience members are noisy and enthusiastic
All dressed in black, they caw at me from the tall elms
I stay on the soft moist grass
A soft place to drop my red crystal ball
(It’s really acrylic but in my fantasy it is crystal).
I’m not quite mesmerizing
As I fumble it time and time again
Sometimes dropping it where it lands with a juicy plop on the wet grass.
But just often enough I see a little progress to keep me going
Like a gambler addicted to poker
I’m sure the next time will go smoother.

I switch to three shiny pins
There I find a little more comfort
And old safe trick that I know well
I put them through their paces like trained ponies in a circus
I try not to dwell on the tricks I’m not flexible enough to do anymore

I spot a bee trying to crawl into my red soda can
It gets annoyed when I try to cover the can with my water bottle
I note that there is plenty of flat concrete for unicycle riding
Maybe someday I’ll get another one-wheeled wonder
I move into the sun
Away from the bee

I spot two beautiful orange trees and flashback to my college days
When I used to juggle oranges outside the cafeteria with other jugglers
Until my hands were soaked with orange juice and we were all laughing like maniacs.

The bee is gone
I peer carefully into the can to make sure
I take a sip and then I open a granola bar
The bee lands on the can
I quickly cover it with the water bottle
But I don’t quite get it lined up right, leaving a bee sized opening into the can
The bee uses it as a door and crawls in
I wait
The bee doesn’t come out
I peek in
I see the bee awash in the soda
I slowly pour the soda onto the ground
I set the can sideways on the brick wall
The disgruntled bee crawls out
It parks on the can to dry its wings
I decide its time to go home so I start to pack my equipment up
I reach to grab the little white box for the contact juggling ball
Just in time I see the bee is sitting on the box
Cleaning the sticky soda off its wings
I swish it away one last time; quickly stuff everything into my purple gear bag
And hot foot it to my truck before the bee decides to come home with me.

Rules of the Road

2006-01-12T10:26:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure when I wrote this. I found it in a box of old papers just now:

Rules of the Road

Feed your inner child
Wear something that doesn't match
Be all you are today
Dance
Invent your own holiday
Play
Give yourself an award
Sooth yourself
Dress like royalty
Sing yourself to sleep
Record your poetry
Sleep with a crystal in your hand
Change jewelry
Polish your knick-knacks
Run to the mailbox and back
Be whole
Read nursery rhymes
Send an unbirthday gift
Dance by candlelight
Write a play
Spin till you are dizzy
Wear ribbons or flowers in your hair

The Scarlet Ribbon

2005-10-16T16:52:00.000-07:00

When in dreams we do walk

Through thicket and through meadow
Through sea foam beaches and tidy hedgerows

While bagpipes whistle through the hills

Do I cry out your name once more?

Am I in your dream too, dancing on the moor?

Do you see my bonnie smile as I run up the road?

Do you miss your bright colleen?

Your woman-child with windblown tresses?

Do you walk through the crossroads where we first met?

Do the heather and the thistles still wind all around the sign there?

Where old women mutter curses against pixies

And old men drive donkeys laden with firewood and thatch

Where nervous tinkers mumble words of protection

And sacrifice the unfortunate chicken over the rocks piled there?

Do you remember the scarlet ribbon from my hair?

The one you tied there after making me swear to never leave you?

We watched it wave merrily on the crossroads sign

Giggling and kissing and twining heather in my hair

Before the long walk up the northbound road

Where you went north and I went east back toward the dawn

Did you find your fortune while you were gone?

When I spin I imagine that I am one ply and you the other

When I watch the spindle twirl and twirl and know

We will be together but only when in dreams we do walk

Pagan Generation Gap

2005-10-08T10:33:00.000-07:00

I write this with a heavy heart
I really don’t know where to start
I heard a chat the other day
By two who were experienced in the pagan way
They lamented and wrung their hands
About the discord in pagan lands
How they despised those young in age
Who had read one whole book and were now a sage
How dare they claim to be a high priestess
How dare they think they know it all
When right here under their very noses
Were two excellent teachers to answer their call
And how those teens had no respect for their elders
And he didn’t just mean eighteen years olds
But 30 year olds with the mentality of eighteen year olds
And oh by the way they hated fluff bunnies
And light workers and healers and all of that crap
And they would really love to go on about their knowledge
But it was time for their afternoon nap

A Midnight in Autumn

2005-10-06T14:50:00.000-07:00

My lover slips in through my window

Carrying naught but a lantern

He comments on how the flickering flame

Makes my eyes sparkle like sapphires

He runs his fingers over the lace on my chemise

His voice breathy and hoarse

His fingers still icy from the night air

The frost melting in his eyebrows and beard

My dear Tatiana he moans

It seems like a fortnight since we have kissed

He lays his thick cloak upon the wheaten rushes

And there we lay side by side

Not saying much but drinking each other in

He sits to unbraid my long hair

Unwinding one strand at a time

Unwinding my resistance one thread at a time

He wraps his fingers behind my neck

And kisses me hard

A sudden rapping upon the wooden door

I scramble to my feet to answer it

I slide open the bolt and turn to my lover

All I see is the open window and the curtains flapping

The Red Fairy and Jack Frost

2005-10-06T08:23:00.000-07:00

The red fairy and Jack Frost got into a bit of a spat.

He called her ugly and fat and she called him cold and said she'd had enough of that.

The grudge lasted a year and a day.

And each one went their seperate way.

But the magic was already spoiled

And the red fairy had Jack foiled.

Because now when he spreads his frost over your head

It will no longer be white but red.

Mermaid's Garden

2005-09-27T22:59:00.000-07:00

There is a mermaids garden far beneath the sea
Where humans cannot see
So we have to let it be
Where mermaids can swim free

We would net them, cage them, fry them
We would put them on display
Do or die them
And never let them play

We don't need to go looking
We don't need to rape the sea
Let them grow their garden without you and me.

copyright Fayme Harper 2005

BEHIND

2005-06-15T13:56:00.000-07:00

Behind

Some religions leave you hollow
Some ideas are hard to swallow
But there is one truth you can’t deny
Where your mind goes
Your behind follows

Wishing

2005-06-15T13:54:00.000-07:00

Wishing

I wish I was a genius
I truly do
I wish that I was smarter than you
I wish universities would call me and ask me for advice
And inventors would want help with their newest device

Diplomats would ask me to help end a war
Interior designers would want my décor
I’d design my own fashions
I’d hybridize my own plants
I’d be a philosopher and win genius grants
I’d write a best seller
I’d write a great play
And they’d build a statue in my honor someday

But I’m just a poet
I’m wrinkled and old
If I sit here much longer
I’ll start to grow mold

Inner Singer

2005-06-15T13:53:00.002-07:00

My Inner Singer

A fledgling opera singer declared that singing cured his depression.
That putting his passion and deepest emotions into the songs was healing for him.

And that was a truth I used to know
When I was young and sang a lot
I sang in the hammock in my front yard
I sang while walking to school
I sang while gardening in my backyard
I sang in school choruses and church choirs

And my voice was high
So high
Second soprano

I felt it was high time I started singing again
If I still knew how
So I started doing warm-ups
And least the few I remembered from choir long ago
And I did not find the high voice from my youth
But a deeper richer voice
I was just as surprised by that
As I was when I realized
I’d gone from a B cup to a D cup
And there is a big difference between singing along with a song
And knowing the song deep in your bones
So now I have to figure out what songs
My bones want to sing

Angel Island

2005-06-15T13:53:00.001-07:00

The Walls of Angel Island

See in your mind the 1900’s in California
See thousands of Chinese immigrants
Coming to the land of opportunity
Coming to the gold rush on mighty ships
And standing between them and America
Is Angel Island
The immigration center
And for many the last stop
And there they are held
For days, for months, for years
And on the walls in Chinese characters
Are poems carved in the wall
Thousands of poems
That speak of disease and mistreatment
And hunger and hopelessness
And missed loved ones still waiting in China
Waiting to come to America
And then to have your journey end
And to have your body sent back to China
Never even getting to dig for gold
Isn’t freedom the real gold?

Unplugged

2005-06-15T13:53:00.000-07:00

Unplugged

Why is it so hard to unplug from things?
Why can’t I just turn off the television?
Leave the radio off
Disconnect the phone and the Internet?
So many voices in my head
Other people’s opinions from every direction
Bombarding me
Evoking emotions
The agony of the world parading in front of me
The vanity of celebrities
The follies of the rich and not so rich
I breathe deeply and try to find a calm space
A space where I can be who I am
And that is enough

Great Beauty

2005-06-15T13:52:00.000-07:00

Great Beauty

She was a great beauty they said
She had the best rack money could buy
Her acrylic nails were rimmed in gold
She wouldn’t dream of leaving her penthouse without make-up, false eyelashes & the newest fashions
Men bought her cars and furs and cocaine
Her schedule included stops at the tanning salon, the hairdresser and the spa
She had a ring for every finger
White gold and diamonds of course
Each one from a different lover
They found her in an alley with dark circles under her eyes
Her nose collapsed
Her heart stopped
‘Pity, she was a great beauty once’

She was a great beauty they said
Her wizened face looked peaceful even in death
Her husband said her heart mothered the whole neighborhood
She had put eight kids through college
All of them adopted from poor countries
No job was too humble for her
She held three jobs at a time once
And still visited the elderly every Sunday
She said God would rather see her face at the hospice than in church
Even at 70 her husband was hard pressed to keep up with her
Even when she went blind she still insisted he drive her to the hospice and to visit shut-ins
As she lay dying she gathered her children and grandchildren around her
She said to them, “There is still so much work to do. I’m sorry I ran out of time to do it myself. Don’t let me down.”
Her youngest daughter held her hand.
“I hope I am as beautiful as you are someday.”

Six Haikus

2005-06-15T13:49:00.000-07:00

Reaper

When he comes calling
Tap tapping on my window
Death in tux and tails

Tres Gatos

Rocky: striped half tail
Black Bob looks like a brawler
Wallop earned his name

Trio

Obsidian grounds
Amethyst clear sight
Emerald heals hearts

Rocky

Rocky is part Manx
He talks to the birds outside
He has half a tail

Wallop

Black with white mittens
The perpetual teen boy
Has a milk mustache

Bob

Fur of black velvet
Robert loves his scratching post
He loves catnip more

Outside the Box

2005-05-24T21:40:00.000-07:00

Think Outside the Box

You know how people are constantly saying 'think outside the box'?
I realize there are very few boxes I fit in to begin with.
I'm not a smoker.
Not a doper.
I'm not vanilla,
I'm not a drinker,
I'm not conservative.
I'm not Republican,
I'm not a super model.
I'm not a housewife.
I don't define myself by my children.
I don't work in a cubicle.
I'm not an athlete; I'm not a tweener.
I'm not a country girl.
Nor am I the girl next door.
I'm not a crackhead, a hooker or a midnight toker.
I'm not a trekker or a trekkie.
I'm not a computer geek or a hacker.
I'm not Mrs. Robinson.
I'm not a zealot, a cultist, or a Christian.
I'm not a vegetarian, a Presbyterian or an aquarium.
And I've met so many pagans that are drug fiends, I'm not sure I even want to say I'm pagan.

Copyright fzh 2005

Leaf Frogs

2005-05-16T10:30:00.000-07:00

Camo

Leaf frogs in ten colors
Squat in petrified ambush
Snapping up crickets

Raggedy Man

2005-05-13T13:44:00.000-07:00

Raggedy Man

Once I met a raggedy man
His name was Peter Jay
He’d knock on doors collecting rags
From dawn till end of day
He’d take them back to his old grandma
She’d cut them into long strips
Then she and ma would braid them
Round and round they’d go
And make a rug as big as a horse
From pieces of old calico

Peter Jay the raggedy man
He’d go from door to door
His bells a’ jingly jangling’
Around his belt so worn
The housewives would drag out their old rags
Tied up in threadbare sheets
And sometimes they’d give him a biscuit or water
And beg him to sit and rest his feet

Peter Jay grew old and gray
His back was bent from toil
But he never grew no beans nor cotton
Or made no olive oil
His garden was a city full of rags and scraps
His Ma would make them into rugs and hats and bags and sacks
The braiding would go round and round
Until the work was done
Then they’d sell them in the market
Under the summer sun

Peter Jay he is no more
I haven’t seen him in many years
But I still have that braided rug
And my grandkids love it dear.

Copyright FZH 2005

Another poem, same word list

2005-05-13T13:18:00.000-07:00

Tweener Summer in Albuquerque

Remember when we tied a string on a June bug
We never worried that it might stress the poor thing out so
Then the boy next door always trying to moon Doug
And I would obsess over that uptown boy Joe

And then Doug put that snake in my new purse
And chased my Manx cat Moot up that old oak
Then you pretended you were a waitress and served cake and I was a nurse
And Cliff caught that bullfrog that was such a beaut, no joke

Then Cindy put on her mom’s Garbo hat
And we would put on a play like we were movie stars
And the boys would tease that old hobo that was fat
On the last day I saw Joe and Cindy under the monkey bars

And he gave Cindy a rhinestone heart bracelet and acted like her man
And I was so mad I poured his smelly cologne all over his Dad’s van

Copyright FZH 2005

This poem used the same word list, but the words were used as internal rhymes.
June
stress
moon
obsess
snake
moot
cake
beaut
Garbo
play
hobo
day
rhinestone
cologne

Dancing at the Crystal Moon

2005-05-12T22:43:00.000-07:00

In this challenge, you were to write a poem using the word list below and keep the same rhyming pattern as the word list.

Dancing at the Crystal Moon

Her name was Sally but he always called her June.
Though their affair caused her stress,
When they danced the foxtrot at the Crystal Moon
If was for her he would obsess.
But when he got home he felt like a snake
Even though his marriage was moot
He wanted to eat; yet still have his cake
But June was such a buxom beaut.
With her creamy skin she reminded him of Garbo.

He snuck out that Friday to take her to a play;
He felt like some sort of lurking hobo,
Sneaking out of work in the middle of the day.
He brought her a ring with a big rhinestone
And splashed himself with cheap cologne.

Copyright FZH 2005

June
stress
moon
obsess
snake
moot
cake
beaut
Garbo
play
hobo
day
rhinestone
cologne

2005-05-07T13:03:00.000-07:00

We live life in slices.

Portrait of Living Room

2005-05-07T12:56:00.000-07:00

Portrait of a Living Room in My Middle Ages

I live in my living room.
It’s never tidy.
It’s either somewhat cluttered, very cluttered, or ‘when did the tornado hit’ cluttered.
The radio is playing ‘Lean on Me’.
There is the oscillating fan & the new TV; all that’s left of my mother’s last days at the nursing home.

There’s the iron sitting on the ironing board; not for clothes mind you.
My boyfriend is using it to iron words onto arrow shafts.

Then there’s the baby dragon coming out of its egg.
I made it by painting on a gourd, and it’s still sitting on my folding wooden table, perched on a soup mug, until I make the clay nest for it to sit in.

Wallop the cat is snoozing on the couch nestled between The Poet’s Companion, a dozen arrow shafts rubber-banded together and my blue carry sack for my dragon needlepoint that I’ve been working on for at least 3 years.

The upright piano I’ve had since I was 8 has seen better days. Covered with the plaster chess set I’ve been meaning to paint for 20 years, and two snow globes; one of a clown and one of a dragon. The fake flowers I hate that show off the black glove vase I painted. Two new photos of me looking presentable in their black cherry frames.

The didgeridoo I’m making out of 2 snake gourds that’s shaped like a giant saxophone.
I can’t finish it because I can’t decide if I want to paint it with petroglyphs or a wizard.
I can’t play it without spitting all over myself.

The 2 couches friends gave us covered with Celtic print bedspreads so the cats won’t shred them.
The Oriental rug I bought at an auction for $200.
I had to wait until all the bidders had run out of money so I could get the price down to where I could afford it without cringing.
Black Bob the cat resting with all four paws tucked under his body so he looks like a black Roomba with a tail.

The stuffed shaggy white dog on the bookshelf with Rachel’s sequined red, white and blue collar. The dog is perched precariously on top of books
and next to a tower of tarot decks from my days as a psychic.

The belly dance bin with a veil spilling out; still sitting there after a belly dance student told me she wasn’t coming back. I lent her a veil and I guess I never learn, because every time I lend something to someone they never come back. Seriously.

The fairy plate I painted when my friend worked at a paint-it-yourself pottery shop. She died of cancer at 27 but the plate lives on in a way that only inanimate objects can.

The white angel votive candleholder wrapped in my red crystal rosary sitting on the piano keys.
Try as I may to keep the piano ready for playing its covered with stuff 99% of the time.

Did I mention my hermit crab? He’s the biggest one I bought. He’s the last survivor. Did he kill the other one’s for food? When the cats startle him he jumps back inside his shell with a thud.

My two wooden practice swords for sword fighting. I never could afford the real thing.

Well, I’ve learned two things:
I collect dragon objects.
Broken dreams leave skeletonized remains all over my living room like a shrine to creativity.

More Please

2005-02-13T20:00:00.000-08:00

My tongue loves banana pudding.
My fingers love tiny polished pebbles.
My toes love plush carpeting.
My nose loves pink jasmine.
My eyes love red diamonds.
My skin loves cocoa butter lotion.
My ears love gypsy violin.
My hair loves long smooth strokes with a boar bristle brush.
My shoulders love warm rain.

May I have some more please.

The Slumber of Before

2005-02-11T16:09:00.000-08:00

The Slumber of Before

A trusting heart can sleep anywhere
Without a care or worry
A soul with no malice or grief
No rush to wake
Sweet dreams partake
The stars will never hurry
Your brow so smooth
So free of care
So softly do you snore
Curled up in your quilted bed
Upon the sandman’s shore

So many years of life I’ve lived
Through many trials I’ve toiled
Through ills and wars in plenty
And politics embroiled

But as I watch you sleep
I realize there is something that I lost
Something so precious I cannot calculate the cost
I need to figure out just how
To leave my troubles at the door
Going to see if I can find my way back
To the slumber of before.

Fayme Harper
Copyright 2005

Another poem about the train crash

2005-01-27T01:45:00.000-08:00

Juan

You single handedly caused
The crash of three trains
You wanted to end it all
But in the last moments
You walked away

The people on the trains
Just wanted to go to work
The people on the trains
They didn’t get to walk away
You stood and watched

Were you horrified?
The noise deafening
The twisted metal
The fires
The screams

The public running to pull
Victims from the trains
A veteran sheriff riding the train
Is survived by his widow and four kids
Just yesterday she was a wife

Another passenger’s legs buckled
And crushed his pelvis
One passenger said bodies
Were flying over her head
Another said the train went from 60 to zero in 2 seconds

All you wanted to do is take your own life
But you ended at least 11 lives
Eleven counts of murder
If you get the death penalty
You commit suicide by default

METRO

2005-01-27T01:28:00.000-08:00

I wrote two poems about the Metro Disaster today. Poets have always dealt with life shattering events. It is part of what we do. It was a tragedy, and writing about it is a way to make sure we never forget the lessons to be learned.

Metro

Every day thousands of people choose to take the train
And on this day one man named Juan decides to commit suicide
He was depressed and tired of feeling like a victim
He was fraught with anxiety and mentally twisted
Somewhere down the road his life had jumped the track
The voices inside his head wouldn’t stop screaming

Every time he saw his wife they’d end up screaming
He even told his friend he would drive down to the train
And that he would park his SUV on the tracks
For weeks all he could think about was suicide
He devised a plan in his head that was definitely twisted
A way to punish everyone that made him feel like a victim

What he hadn’t visualized were all the innocent victims
Or that three trains would collide and all the awful screaming
And the chewed up train cars and glass and bodies would be twisted
Did he think about all those passengers on the trains?
He couldn’t even follow through with his own suicide
He got out of his car at the last minute when it was stuck on the tracks

And with his own eyes he saw the flames as they twisted
Around the crashing train cars on the buckled up track
Passersby ran to rescue people off of the burning train
Rescue crews ran past the injured looking for the more severe victims
Listening in the dark for sounds of life melting away in all the screaming
No one on those trains agreed to participate in Juan’s suicide

His orange car was so obliterated and twisted
Viewers couldn’t even see where it was on the track
It was lost somewhere under that first rushing train
“We went from 60 miles per hour to zero in 2 seconds,” said a victim
The lights flickered and went out inside the train and next thing there was screaming
Did Juan imagine thousands of people being involved in his attempted suicide?

Was he hoping to get the death penalty as a legal form of suicide?
Who can understand the rationale of someone so obviously twisted
Now it is the families of the injured and dying and dead that will be screaming
So many who have suffered greatly and somehow gotten onto the wrong track
All of us have to work each day to encourage each other so there are no more victims
Of all the things we have to learn, it is our own minds that we have to train

How many people do we know that are always screaming about suicide?
We need to train ourselves and not let our thoughts become so twisted
That we get off track and by our actions create more victims

Garden Plaza~ a word substitution poem

2005-01-18T18:45:00.000-08:00

There is an assignment in Creative Poetry by John Drury that is called a word substitution poem. You take a poem you like, and substitute words, matching verbs to verbs, nouns to nouns, etc. and leaving some of the original words. I used words from Twelfth Night to base mine on.

Shakespeare's

Come away, come away, death
And in sad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O, prepare it:
My part of death, no one so true
Did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
On my black coffin let there be strown,
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse where my bones shall be thrown.
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Lay me, O where
Sad true lover never find my grave,
To weep there.

And here is mine:

The Plaza

Dance away, dance away, life
And in garden plaza let me be kissed
Jump away, jump away, lust
I am revived by a homely kind fool
My gown of silk trimmed all with beads
O, declare it:
My art of dance, clad all in blue
Did dare it.

Feel the power, feel the power, leap
On my long hair let there be thrown
Flower petals, flower petals sweet
My limber body, where my joy shall be grown
Spin me, no cares
Happy kind fool dance upon my grave
And play there.

Fayme Harper, copyright 2005

2004-12-20T08:32:00.000-08:00

I've gotten a lot of use out of these stick on letters. I've had them so many years, I'm amazed the glue is still as good as the day I bought them.

What's a word morgue?

2004-12-20T08:28:00.000-08:00

A word morgue is a box full of words used to trigger creativity. Add as many words as you like. Choose them at random and use them to launch poetry or journal entries or blogs or stories.

2004-12-20T08:25:00.000-08:00

My word morgue.

Think Pink

2004-12-20T08:21:00.000-08:00

Think Pink

Today I'm going to stay ahead of negativity.
I'm going to put on my rose colored glasses.
I'm going to stop being such a cynic.
I'm going to close my eyes and remember what my kids looked like when they were babies.
I'm going to think about my best stage shows.
I'm going to sing my favorite songs from childhood.
I'm going to put on my make-up and pretend I am a princess.
I'm going to remember what I was like when I was a virgin,
Before I knew how much it hurt to have a lover reject me.
I'm going to look for the best in people.
I'm going to be kind to strangers, even the seedy looking ones.
And I'm going to smile on the outside even if I don't feel like it on the inside.

2004-12-16T17:28:00.000-08:00

I thought we needed a little art to go with the words.

Funny it says poet, not poetry.

2004-12-16T17:22:00.000-08:00


poet is love
brought to you by the isLove Generator

The Last Dance

2004-12-16T13:15:00.000-08:00

I just finished this a minute ago. I'm sure I'll be making some changes. It's R rated so if such things offend you, don't read it. Otherwise, enjoy.

The Last Dance

She watched him in the shadows as she danced with great lust
Her garments laced tightly but not so tightly her breathing would suffer
Within the boning and velvet her buxom cleavage was embraced
Her fashionably tattered skirts topped by her blood red corset
And spilling over it were her spiraling auburn tresses
The drums played faster and she could feel the pounding of her caged heart

In the end it always came down to matters of the heart
She knew in the long run it would take more than lust
She danced faster, her dark eyes flashing under her wild tresses
She was proud that she had made men suffer
Made them long for what was under her skirts and corset
Made them pay dearly to pull her into their drunken embrace

But she’d had enough of sweaty drunken embraces
While those encounters wet her thighs, they never won her heart
She felt chills as she saw his eyes wander down her corset
So she danced closer to the shadows just to feed her own lust
Licking her full lips, staring into his eyes, watching him suffer
Close enough to feel his fingers entwine in her tresses

Feeling his lips suddenly on hers, his elegant hands dragging her by her tresses
Dragging her behind the heavy velvet drapes, pressing her into a hard embrace
And she kissed him back just as fiercely, as if he would by her passion suffer
As if she could stoke the fire of his need until it was hot enough to win her heart
For she was quite the savant when it came to deepening a man’s lust
She felt his nails slide down her neck, her chest, to her corset

She felt consumed by his fire, suddenly wishing to be free from her stiff corset
His other hand pushing aside her sweaty tresses
His body pinning her firmly to the wall behind the draperies, the musk of lust
She couldn’t focus, she was gasping in his embrace,
She wanted him more than she had wanted anything, wanted him with her whole heart
And she who wants it most will be made the most to suffer

And then she felt his nails pierce her breast, and in her eyes he saw her suffer
Blood dripping slowly down her décolletage, splashing on her corset
His acute other worldly ears heard her ragged heart beating
He buried his face in her hair, sinking his fangs in the pale flesh beneath her tresses
And she knew, too late, too late, this was her final embrace
She was paying the highest price for her passion, paying with her soul for her lust

Finally a being that could take her heart as no human could, could make her suffer
And so heightened was her lust that she had a final orgasm, even as the blood flowered like a rose on her corset
And he lifted her into his arms, her tresses sticking to the blood, as he finished the embrace.

My first Sestina~The Last Dance

2004-12-16T13:13:00.000-08:00

The Sestina is a 39 lined poem developed by the French in the 12 century. Here is a page that explains the format. http://www.baymoon.com/~ariadne/form/sestina.htm

blue elf

2004-12-06T19:54:00.000-08:00

Today's five words:

Doe-eyed
machinery
ephemoral
merriment
blue

ESCAPE

Leave the machinery behind

Join the blue doe-eyed elf

in ephemoral merriment

Random Five Poem 2

2004-12-05T11:27:00.000-08:00

Wordlist:
poetess
saint
unicorn
myth
kisses

Dewy Kisses

She's a saint on a unicorn
She is dewy kisses on your brow
She is hot fudge and teddy bears
And warm fuzzy bunny slippers
She is not a myth
She is a poetess
She lives in your memory

Fayme Harper
copyright 2004-2005

Poetry Assignment~Random Five

2004-12-05T11:21:00.000-08:00

For this assignment, you make word lists, print the list, cut out the words and put them in a bag or hat or box so you can draw them out.
Then draw out five words, and use them in a poem.

Random Five Poetry
cirque de luna
moan
calliope
prestidigitation
fingerpainting

Circus of the Moon

The circus is like a living fingerpainting
Cirque de luna bathed in moonlight
Elves on prancing ponies
The mesmerizing calliope
Prestidigitators in tails and top hats
Ladies so beautiful the audience moans
As they swing on the trapeze
Pink poodles and diamond eyed divas
Fire eaters and ferocious tigers
Under the midnight stars

by Fayme Harper
copyright 2004-2005

Welcome

2004-12-05T11:18:00.000-08:00

Welcome to Prancing Pony Poetry