Mom

Sometimes I feel
as if my mother’s story
got lost

She was
an only child
and that singularity
is a two-sided beast

Of course it allowed her
the freedom
to tell her story
any way she liked
without contradiction
or interruption

But it also left her
with the burden
of carrying that story alone

 

This is for Hedgie, keeper of Galen’s Friday 55, at Verse Escape.

Inferno, Room III

The Inferno was deserted
We walked dark, winding corridors
among huge whisky vats
and Rub Goldberg devices
kitsch loomed, vaguely threatening
plastic harpies
and plaster fortune tellers
eyed us

mechanical music machines
long out of tune
moaned and screeched
a discordant warning
Time will win
Time always wins

Welcome to hell –
here’s your accordion

 

 

This is a 55 word impression of section three of the House on the Rock for Hedge’s Verse Escape.

*Note: The last two lines are taken from a Far Side cartoon (“Welcome to Heaven…. Here’s your harp. /  Welcome to Hell…. Here’s your accordion.”)

18

These are times of unmaking
systems fall into disrepair
entropy has her way

birds fall from the skies
buds freeze, curled tight
their potential never sprung

socks and gloves
fall out with their mates
leave without saying goodbye

things fall apart
clocks stop
dishes break

the mirror shows
only empty spaces
and faces without hope

 

These 55 words are for Joy at Verse Escape, where she carries on the grand tradition of the G-man.

6. Inscrutable

demeyer

The inscrutable face
behind the mask
holds all
things in
all people out

No
tender
legal issues
to sort through

No
muss
no fuss
everything
in its proper place

No
man
behind
the curtain
pulling strings

Only
a reflection
of an empty room
an empty space
an empty life
an empty face
behind the mask

This is linked to Verse Escape, FF55 and the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.
The image is an Elizabeth Arden advertising photo by Aldoph de Meyer, 1927, Fair Use>

Letter to My Love

I love you
but
you have
fallen
in with
the wrong crowd
They don’t care
about you
or your children

Hucksters
in shiny suits
lie and call it truth

With fast talk and small words
They steal your treasures
your reputation
your dignity

Orange is the new
black and blue

I weep for you
America

 

This is written for Verse Escape and for dVerse.

How Many More?

I know
people kill people.
I know laws cannot
always
be enforced.
I know there are
people with mental illness.
I know
this country has
a second amendment.
And I know money speaks.

But I also know
seventeen more souls
have been ripped
from their lives
seventeen more families
decimated

And I wonder
how many more?

I am sick that I have cause to write this.  It is for Friday 55 at Verse Escape where Hedgewitch honors the late, great G-Man, by having us write exactly 55 words each Friday.

Early Riser

This morning
I was on
my fourth cup of coffee
when the sun
finally
showed his face

Three a.m. monster
thoughts
came to visit
again

The night before
it was
nightmares
that jolted me, terrified
from sleep

But I think
the monsters
are worse

At least
I can wake up
from the nightmares

This is for Friday 55 at Verse Escape where Hedgewitch keeps alive the tradition and memory of the G-man.

Curtains

it is the best of times
it is the worst of times
the market is up
integrity down

a nation stands by as
it is shamed, scammed and flimflammed
used and refused

is this insanity
to keep us from seeing
the man behind the curtain
or are we being led
to the precipice
in earnest?

This is a fashionably late entry for the amazing Hedgewitch and herFriday 55 at Verse Escape.

Turned

Wandering through
this dark, cold night
we stumble over
stones in the path
stones thrown in anger
stones that could build walls
stones that could break bones
stones that could bring down giants
or stones that waited in secret pockets
stones that sat in collections, on shelves

stones
that may once have been
our hearts

IMG_4010 (2)

This is for Hedgewitch’s Friday 55 at Verse Escape.

Cat Tale

DSCN0111 (2)                                                                                      -Photo by Mary Bach

It is amazing how a little pile
of fur and bones
of whiskers and purrs
can claim a human heart
can fill a human heart
and

how its suffering
can break
a human heart
and call from the human
both her best and her worst
and how completely
helpless
that human can
feel

 

This is in memory of Frank, my daughter’s cat who left us November 24 of this year.  It is linked to Joy’s FF55 at Verse Escape, with a nod to the late, great G-Man.