Beer Bottle Amber Toothbrush Blues

Woke up this morning and fell out of bed
My eyes were hard-boiled, my head was like lead
Wish I hadn't been drinking, I'd have been better dead.

Crawled in the bathroom to clean out my mouth
Stuck my head under the cold-water spout
I felt like a peat-bog with ten years of drought.

My teeth were like skunks who'd been dead for a year
I reached for my brush and I started with fear
The handle looked just like a bottle of beer.

I staggered in shock and I muttered “Get out!”
I'm sorry I drank so much, for there's no doubt
The last thing I wanted was beer in my mouth.

I woke up this morning, my face it was bruised
Woke up this morning and felt so confused
I got the beer-bottle amber-colored toothbrush handle blues.

--image courtesy of Magpie Tales
Collection available! Knocking from Inside

House Frames

Pictures live inside their frames; buildings
outside. Hermit crabs live
in someone else's frame altogether.

They use the shells of dead molluscs
as clothes, house, armor. Imagine
a house built from someone else's skeleton.

Imagine constructing a frame within a frame—
living inside someone else's outside—
a leather jacket, an abalone button,
a treehouse.

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Heel

3 Word Wednesday: Feign. Imply. Virtue

feigned strength implies
hidden weakness-- Achilles'
warrior virtues, flawed

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All that is Gold does not Glitter

You see the second line of that poem on bumper stickers fairly often around here:

All that is gold does not glitter
Not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither
Deep roots are not touched by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken
A light from the shadows shall spring
Renewed shall be blade that was broken
The crownless again shall be king.

I've been known to quote it as "Not all those launder are washed." I wonder how many people can correctly identify the source of the quote? It's from Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, of course (the book: I can't remember now if it featured in the movie). Bilbo wrote it about Aragorn, the King in exile.

Anyway...


All that is bent is not broken
Not all those who whittle can carve
Beware of the blade that is open
Beware of the dog that is starved.

A knife can be kept in a pocket
But the blade remains sharp to the touch
Like sticking a fork in a socket
The hand that is careless risks much.

--image courtesy of Magpie Tales
Collection available! Knocking from Inside

Ghazal challenge

Poetic Asides picked "Bride of the Beloved" as the winner of the ghazal challenge. I'm thrilled, as I've become very fond of that form.

The poem will be appearing in Writer's Digest, but I'm not sure when. I neglected to post the title with the poem, so it looks like it'll appear with the first line as title. Which is fine.

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For Scully

3 Word Wednesday: Erase. Meadow. Trace.

half-erased traces
across an empty meadow
dog's pawprints in dew

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Horoscorpio

Dull Antares, more dangerous than any bright star
you are resentful and hunger for praise.
You hide in the darkest parts of the Milky Way
like a soothing syrup promising comfort for a cough—
sting of opium in your tail.

-- words courtesy of Big Tent
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Yellow-Bark Trees

In a forest of yellow-bark trees
you can hear the whispering of unborn books
and equations not yet solved.

In a city of yellow telephone poles
the graphite wires hum
with the communication of secrets.

Yellow shafts of light
fall from the ceiling of a cave
twined with birdsong.
Yellow carp rise from lake shadows
with wisdom pearls in their mouths.

In the sweaty hands of children
yellow pencils scratch and rustle.
Yellow pillars reach toward the roofs
of temples of knowledge.

--image courtesy of Magpie Tales
Collection available! Knocking from Inside

For the Protection of Consumers

I got the letter today. It said:

We regret to inform you that you have been recalled.
We have determined that your emotional makeup includes a design flaw which under certain very rare circumstances could lead to conditions that may contribute to a significant safety issue if not used exactly as directed. Therefore
you should proceed immediately to the original point of sale
where for the protection of consumers
your spouse, parent, next of kin or designated legal guardian will receive a voucher equal to your value
less storage, shipping, handling and general depreciation. Unless
they have been so careless as to remove the tag
that says DO NOT REMOVE THIS TAG UNDER PENALTY OF LAW.

It could happen to anyone, at any time
so if you love someone, go right up to them and-- rip their tags off!

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Ignoble Rot

3 Word Wednesday: Hidden. Noble. Roam.

vintner roams his yards
searching for ignoble rot
hidden in the roots

If you aren't familiar with the idea of "noble rot", check out Wikipedia's entry...

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Kyron

We're afraid to walk alone on Skyline Boulevard
where the trees reach up high and the canyons are deep.
Parents keep their children close to the yard
and stand guard on the stairs while the youngsters sleep.

Where the trees reach up high and the canyons are deep
a boy disappeared with no witness or warning.
They stand guard on the stairs while the young are asleep
but he vanished from school in the middle of morning.

A boy's disappeared without witness or warning.
Grim-faced men search the forest for traces of a life
that vanished from school in the middle of morning.
No-one saw a car pass and no-one smelled a knife.

Grim-faced men search the forest for any trace of life
hoping against hope to not find him dead.
No-one heard a car, no-one remembers a knife
like a claw digging into a face that fled.

Hope against hope that the lost is not dead,
but we no longer trust that hope does any good.
Despair digs its claws in the faces that led
the furious search in the wind-shaken woods.

We can no longer trust that it does any good
for parents to keep children close to their yard.
Now the Furies course the wind-shaken woods
and fear walks alone on Skyline Boulevard.

Three days gone and no news. Pray for Kyron's safe return.
News at KATU
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There Will Be Roses

All morning wrapped in the sound of rain like silk curtains, watching colors dissolve in clear water. Except the grass, so green it leaves red afterimages on my sight. We have no roses and the peonies have faded dull.

Late spring dressed in the silver-greys of autumn, fallen flowers thick as leaf-drift, rotting in the rain. Bedraggled crows shake water from their wings. There are no roses and the geraniums refuse to bloom: only a few leaves lift their cups to the drenching sky.

Now we emerge into summer as from the bottom of a lake. Now we face the scorch and drought and leaves that crisp on the stem. Only tell me there will be roses burning under the burning sky. Only tell me there will be roses thick as wine. Only tell me there will be roses.

Collection available! Knocking from Inside

Spontaneity

In the mind
of a master sculptor

the most ephemeral
emotion—surprise

handfasted to
the hardness of stone.

Improbable marriage
of message and medium,

gas bubbles
caught in boulders

auroral light
pinned on silver nitrate

butterflies etched
in slabs of slate.

It still surprises me
that stone can be so
spontaneous.

--image courtesy of Magpie Tales
Collection available! Knocking from Inside

Daring Heaven

If I dared to burn I wouldn't be a candle.
A forest full of living flame,
a sun holding planets in close embrace—
distant races would feel my glow and populate their skies
with monsters and heroes.

If I dared to weep I wouldn't be a raindrop.
I'd be typhoon-thrashed oceans of salt,
I'd be the Milky Way falling endlessly over dark-matter cliffs
only to be swallowed by hungry black holes
at the heart of the universe.

Dare to be stone. No pebble to be kicked
but a frowning mountain, aerie of eagles. Dare
to be the Perseids, streaking the nights of August
with burning dust. Dare to be Mercury in the arms
of Sol; Pluto in the arms of darkness.

If I dared to be dust I would be the birthplace of stars.
If I dared to love, Beloved
what could we be?

--for Big Tent's "dare" prompt.
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Forthcoming

The Lyric accepted "Condensation", and Raintown Review accepted "Your Karma Ran Over My Fox".

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Budgie Cage

3 Word Wednesday: Budge. Nimble. Theory.

nimble budgies swing
from perches theory says are
inaccessible

Okay, "budgies" for "budge" is a bit of a stretch...

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Bursts of Brilliance

Poetic Asides today has a very 3WW-like prompt: clodhopper, flash, satellite.

meteors flash past
slowly tumbling satellites
mock the clodhoppers

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