February 4th

[Doreen Peri]

i am looking for a sure cure
for mid-winter blues,
something to amuse
an icy terrain, a warm
tropical lady-rain aimed
easy on my shore

words can spring
a frozen heart to
beat a season's
hibernation

______________

Stop and go.
Stop and go.

I accelerate
then wait
to excel or
rate the speed
of going on a dash,
bored by the stop
light, open throttle,
revved, foot to metal
go go go go go.

I can stop the going
only with sleep, yet in
dreams, I go to fantastic
films in Technicolor.

I stop when eyelids open,
reflect on lightstreams
through slats in my
blind shades, then

Go go go once more
until I stop to dream
which goes on
goes on goes on
to waking.

Stop and go.
Stop and go.

One day the final stop.
A dream without awaking.

---------------------

I long for puns
like I long for air!
Double-meaning fun
takes me there!

Days can be long --
nights last forever!
Gimme a song
that's witty and clever.

I was thinking I'd write
under a nom de plume.
Could you put this book right
on a shelf in your room?

"Riverspan" by Bill D. Bridges.
or by Iam Famished, "Don't Know Where the Fridge Is."

_______________

Eros is swathed in silken garb,
draped by touch, angelskin lust
just as eveningshade awaits
the must have rhythm of chest to breast,
given way to candlelit play; fingers read
Braille on skin, again again, the want,
again, again, the taunt of tear-filled eyes -

Wise is the arrow,
Cupid the bearer ready to shoot,
his quill full, a sharpened head
pierces into soul-center.

Eros bathes in oils, aromas
fill air currents, swirled around the
girl's limbs and he comes in, he comes
in her core, more more, she croons, the
moon, a satellite, a witness.

Eros kisses
Cupid's brow
now that his quills are
launched. She taunts him with
coy retreat. He meets her once more,
quills filled, bow pulled, again, again,
her legs wrapped 'round his back,
again, again, Eros cracks open
like a sky when stormclouds break,
wet-eased into a warm breeze which
subsides the gust with an exhale
on the nape of his neck.

__________________


It goes up.
like heat,
it rises from
the bottom
to the top,
complete,
aloft, until it
reaches the
sky, our eyes
following it with
intrigue and wonder.

It goes up like helium,
explodes with thunder,
each line entering an
atmospheric swell.

We say hello to the
elements, line upon line,
verse upon verse, until we
reach infinity.

Inspiration
evacuation
culmination
united thought.

It goes up
like heat,
heartbeats, the
accompaniment

_____________

Keep me
in your memory
stuck down on a page,
glued to the scrapbook,
stabbed with a pin
beneath the thorax,
anchored to the spine
and I will be your monarch,
your painted butterfly.

Keep me
kept like sweat
is kept before fear
annihilates a possibility of
flight. Keep me

In a cocoon, journal-love
soon recalled, leafed through,
archived on an aorta-sheet,
each beat of my wings
finished by the document.

Keep me caught in a
net, slapped down, pinned,
memorized, later retrieved,

While you believe you can
enlighten me with release,
while you believe you can
unleash my fury, my flutter,
my span, I will not be allowed
though
know
you will

Keep me
bowed to your glory like an
insect kept for
dissection.


_____________

paper mache
mockery

-------------------

to be chosen
to dance
beneath the
mockery of a moon -
to be a selected
voice, my presence
requested by stars -
to be forgiven for
being human -
to be designated
recognized, prized for
value, eyes meeting eyes
until magic takes hold

these are perhaps to some,
insignificant gestures, all told,
and yet these are the very things
which make me whole

--------------

a sip of dry martini,
a lucid dream,
a flick of ash,
a master class
with nureyev,
jazz guitar,
pianissimo,
a rainbowed
storm

i am whole
despite the ratio of
meager stature
compared to them
because of them

___________

i am a dissonant chord
in an off-chance key,
played like a bridge,
never resolved.

i am a universe
shunned, an unfilled
perscription, no cure for the
ill-perceived.

i grieve dying music
not recorded.

if you can see me, why
are your eyes facing
unborn stars?

mine will soon
die out into
invisible
lightyears

__________

I have rescinded
power to a momentary
win of grin and smile.
humor owns me.

------------
a freed slave came minutes before
bed read its litany and i, too reticent
to admit acceptance,
rode home,
uncuffed, relinquished,
given into a choice
pillow, resilient like
her gift.

i sift
through sandcastles
attempting to rebuild
torrets with water, blood,
and spit.

i sleep in the rectory.
i will see dawn through
narrow windows.

goodnight.
godmorning.

Love is the answer to
denial and guilt. Love is the
answer to saga, to the wilt of leaves upon a
stem, to an unreconciled hem of pants and choice,
to the voice of being here,
now, bowed humbly to who
ever accompanies the
road alone
with
rhythm


(my pieces from the word jam at the scroll last friday.)

[e_dog]

wow. this is like
a chapbook-post.

[Doreen Peri]

heh

Thanks for reading, e-dog.... Yeah, I know it was really long.... Just documenting the pieces I wrote at our last Word Jam.

I love the Word Jams! I use them as a writing workshop for myself. It's great to get inspired by the words of others and I've been saving separate running files for each of them, so the pieces make one larger piece of a day's work.

Then, sometimes I pull pieces from them and work on them a little more or just give them a title and save them in my poetry folder.

Anyway, thanks for taking a look! I appreciate it!