I tried to put these poems in chronological order, the first being the earliest I have written, and the last being the most recent. Have fun reading, but if any copying and pasting goes on where I'm not given credit, there's going to be trouble. So enjoy, but don't be stupid like Blackshaw... the kids from my writing class know what I'm talking about.
Monday
Covering Sunday’s eyes with her long fingers
a giggle escapes from her sideways smile
she whispers, “It’s your time to go,”
and playfully stabs him in the back
dumping Sunday on the floor
folded over and forgotten
like yesterday’s pile of dirty clothes.
Monday is a serial killer
in league with the Morning
setting the alarm clocks to 5:00 a.m.
and jolting the people out of pleasant dreams.
She is the snooze button pressed repeatedly,
and the last-minute rush to get out the door.
Monday enjoys
turning the stop lights red
and making people drive
while they’re half asleep and grumpy
honking at each other.
Though she’s a murderer
she appreciates a serenade of birds
a warm sunrise,
and a steaming cup of Starbucks coffee.
Monday is the woman strolling into the room
wearing a low cut bright orange dress
hair billowing out like a lions mane
telling the world, “Here I am,
like it or not.”
Yellow
Yellow is the color of a golden retriever
pushing his cold, black nose up against her hand
looking up with liquid amber eyes
tail swishing like a feather duster
as she pets his long, soft fur.
It is the spot on the family room carpet
where warmth seeps in from the sliding glass doors
they both sit and bask in the sunlight
finding warmth and happiness.
Yellow is the color of hair falling in waves
as she leans over to hug her oldest friend
laughter ringing through out the house
her voice rising excitedly
while Yellow's head rests on her knee
seeming to take in all she says
and looking up to lick her face
when her voice falls silent.
All In a Day’s Work at the Hospital
Strolling in with orange lipstick
and platinum blonde hair that looks like
a bit of fluff the cat coughed up
Her face stretches like a plastic bag
into something she considers to be a smile
her crocodile jaws open,
“Hello! How are you?”
in a bubbly voice,
turning away before she can hear the answer.
Plopping down at the desk
with her super sized cup of coffee
sniffing in the aroma
and tapping her nails on the sides
she takes a sip
and her face scrunches up like a wailing baby’s
“Oo! It’s hot!”
as if the steam from the cup doesn’t clue her in.
The chair squeaks as she twists in it
her only voluntary movement
to open up a computer game-
Solitaire
she begins to play.
I savor my time
hoping she’s forgotten I’m around
but her hand reaches for the phone
and I know I’m doomed
as she dials up a floor and pops the question,
“Do you need anyone to pass out water?”
Of course they do. They always do.
Hanging up the phone
the chair squeaks again as she turns,
in a syrupy sweet voice, “9th floor,”
I walk slowly to the elevators
knowing I’ll be passing out water
all the way down to the 2nd
as Jean sips coffee
and tries to win her game.
M&Ms
My hand melts into the bowl
finding piles of cool pebbles
one red is seized first
coals on a fire
burning feet that think too much.
Red asks the black hole in his usual calm voice
with a tinge of sugar,
“You can resist eating me,
if you want it enough.”
But I didn’t
so Little Red hops into my mouth
appearances deceiving
he’s not a hot coal at all
he’s not even warm.
Then I grasp a chip of ice
otherwise known as Blue
he weeps in my hand so I’m holding water.
Pitiful voice with a bit of frost,
“You segregated me
from all my Orange friends
and ate them first!”
Of course I did
I like orange less than red.
Up to my mouth Little Blue goes
than leaps suicide to the floor
“Five second rule,”
says the black hole
I pick it up, brush it off
chew and
swallow.
Lastly is brown
my favorite pebble
true chocolate
the bark scraped from a tree
where a lover carves a heart.
Letters marked plain
M&M
shielding his shell
as I raise him to my mouth
a honeyed voice drawls,
“I taste like dirt,
you’ll want to put me back down.”
I dignify his attempt with an answer
“Nice try.”
Into my mouth he rests.
Phew! Phooey!
He flies back out
on dewy wings of saliva
and soars safely out the window.
He does taste like dirt!
Crafty little thing.
Guess he had time to think
when all his allies were being eaten
and he was the last in the bowl.
Comfort
Blankets encase me in warmth
a summer day
reaching up to settle on my shoulders.
Sheets familiar
like the scent of my mother’s hair
when she leans in close
to kiss me on the cheek.
My fingers and toes wiggle
glad to be attached to hands and feet
instead of blocks of ice.
If I lifted the blinds of my window
gray and white would overwhelm
a dirty road and unwashed cars
snow weighs on the grass in patches
dark slush crowds the street curb
dulls the sky.
In bed I get to imagine
it is the first snow
without footprints or ice
or snowplows yet.
White rests on the ground,
the rooftops,
and the tree branches,
proclaiming purity.
My sigh rests on this pillow
with a faded unicorn and rainbow
softened by countless washes
and years of my head laying down its troubles;
words or actions regretted,
clinging to my thoughts.
My eyes close
knowing the afternoon is mine
how a nap brings comfort
I slowly breathe it in
breathe out
just
breathe
is all I'm required to do.
