Tulips Tell in Time

In the meadow
Raised on mounded souls
I saw them, the wicked flowers
Dared to seek them out
And did play and pay

Moments slowed and bellowed
The gales adrift like screams

I stood there
Silent in wait
Wind lifting fine strands
A pretty red
Standing no chance

Eventually each strand falls…
And still I stopped
To feel their softness
Tingling across
Forehead and cheek

Carrying on
The wind came and went
Like little gasps
The ones made when I was a child

Underneath the bed sheets
Feet safe between my
Cupped hands
A tiny ball
So wise

But I did not hide now

And the lethargy did take hold
Ahold of my two hands
Strongly, until stumbling
Forward, I fell

Crawling cold and wet
Red coated my palms and
Still I sunk lower
Wrists and then elbows
Until crawling was no longer
A possibility

Pulling forward still
Tearing and yanking
At those pretty flowers
And green, green grass

Collapsing finally I turned my tired neck
One ear upon the sticky ground
Hearing a sickly suckling

Like an infant now I rolled to face the sky
Face caked in desiccated
Past travelers who had fought

Much harder

Maybe I cried and did
Not notice, but still I fought
Looking like an earthworm
Caught in a sidewalk crack

And finally conceded…
Earthworms in sidewalk cracks
Really stand no chance

This was my destination
The hidden meadow where
Flowers’ petals burned and unfurled
Leaving their stamens behind

To dot the sky
Like fallen cherry blossoms
As I lay still and colder
Watching in ignorance
As they swirled and danced
And coalesced…

Each
Moment
Breathed
Was mine.

Above me I see the sun has halted
Momentarily dazed I smile
But there is a tulip above
Dangling like a pendulum

(But I knew it was the flowers
Pretty little tricksters
I could smell the non-scents).

I turn away from the tulip’s maw
Raising a hand protectively to
Cup my cheek in the wet ground
But it sinks down still
My eye stinging tears
As I cough in the
Viscous red soil

I know I’ve made a mistake then
Looking for the hidden meadow 

The tulip swings
Tick tock

And I laugh a laugh
I do not know the meaning of…

And the tulip drops its maw upon me 
Wet, red loam swallows and I am sinking
One foot and one hand the last
To stay above

Little weeds

I hug its weight close 
Like an old, familiar blanket
Accepting the dark spaces
Listening to earth’s sweet song
An insatiable hunger to exist

Listen…
The trees have exhaled
And all the clocks

Have stopped
For her.

Frosted Dreams on Boughs

I am sentiment unwound

By the dim light of earth’s frown;

His darkness always

In all ways

Mine to keep sound

 

He enters each round sigh

Of my softened two lines

For him alone; for him alone

His frown became my own

 

For my thoughts he exhumed

In a past sentience, so gloom

And time being but a dot

Memories did not fade

As I would want

 

These procurements by requisite

Became my charges.

 

I wonder at times

If I alone he procured 

The weight like an infant

In these fragile arms

 

They come unspun

They are but falling yarn

Down the stairway

…now a lone thread.

 

I’ve sat at times with flattened eyes

Lost in a fog of pillow-soft daydreams

Warm in the meadow of poppies

My favorite blanket…

 

For the smile of love

Whether here or gone by

Is lighter than a feather

Placed upon tired eyes…

 

I speak for the bearers

Of earth’s dimmed frown

Guardians of sad melodies

Let’s all put on our crowns

 

My lovely…

Your darkness is no match for our dreams

The trees guarded on boughs frozen

Protected from your nightly winds.

 

My lover

My lovely

Let me go.

 

Why me,

This ragdoll woman?

I Am Returning Soon

I have been gone for some time caught in a vortex of “unfortunate events.” However, I am finally sitting down to tell you The Attic is not gone.

New writing should be coming in January with the new year. Thank you to people who read my posts and get something from them whatever that thing may be.

The blog does not have a lot of readers, and I am by no means a polished writer. I haven’t tried to be as much as I feel I should try to be in the past. However, I feel grateful for any support and feedback I get from writers & poets who are published, unrecognized or under-recognized in my opinion, and passionate artists who don’t give a damn if so and so puts them in a magazine or even looks at what they put out there.

This segues into my next thought. I do feel that need to put myself out there and see the many rejection letters that will come (I’m sure), I need to do it. Why? I don’t know. I really don’t, because I’ve always thought it doesn’t matter to me what people think of what I need to do, but something matters. After being diagnosed with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome I find it mattering more.

I cannot work or do my yoga; I cannot hike the way I used to or garden for hours. Maybe I need something to feel validated? Is that the word I’m looking for? I want to be me, but the old me was defined by certain things that do not exist anymore, even though I am just as much who I am now as I was then…if not more.

So, maybe this desire to try and publish, even if it amounts to nothing is misplaced. Maybe I will find it doesn’t change the feeling inside I’ve had since my world changed upside-down yet again. It’s happened before. I think it happens to everyone at some point in their life. I will try though.

Summarily, I’m saying that I may not be posting as often as when I first started the blog; I may be focusing on pieces that will be up for submission. Some older entries will be gone…I may change the blog to a website at some point. Change coming on the tail of changes…

I will be posting about once a month. I enjoy the support; I adore the productive critics that challenge me. I’m ending this entry with a thought and suggestion…

Life is full of moving parts. Move with them and through them to see what’s on the other side with fierce eyes. ~ Me

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The Suicide Kid by Charles Bukowski

Anchor

Hurting, I hug knees to my chest
and see only one thing.

My only
one-lie
own-lee
ad infinitum

Own-lee
, I think
“own what?!” I own no
thing that is a “lee…”
and what is a lee, anyway?

I am FA(i)LLING.

Like a rock slipping through careless
fingers 30,000 feet up and climbing

I slipped and fell and watched your
eyes wonder if I would crash

And hurt another?

Now a stone under moss
waiting for rain to cover
invisible eyes watching
passersby
on the garden path

Bare feet
beautiful feet
I never knew in real life
and so kept hidden

‘neath Mary Janes and sneakers
former dancer, twirler, performer
what? former what?

FORM
HER.

I am a stone under water sinking deep
into the mud and the lotus grew many weeks
around my form first as tendrils soft like
touches I miss so much

Crave for like chocolate on a diet
for your eyes on my skin causing
flowing heat, like the touch of your finger
so softly when it was forbidden and I would
Shiver

I crave it constantly un-sated, never sated
of you, U, yew grew in that Japanese garden
on that day with…

There she is growing up into the light above
and I watch her petals unfurl and rejoice that
I have anchored her as she spreads her
HAPPY petals, LOVEly lotus.

I rejoice that I am fallen
smiling from beneath the mud.

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