Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

One hopes any trumpet farewell comes with friendly fire
these days all angels with green eyes are jealous
maybe they’re fairies, can’t tell, really,
the difference is when you enter the kitchen
all the peppers have been cut, red, yellow sweet
slices but the damn jalapeño is enough to wake Lazarus.

The first raindrop falling on a daffodil is the best,
the rest is overkill, like furniture the carpenter makes,
the first is the best, everything else is a facsimile
people can tell, get bored over time, even the doll
in the house knows and she won’t tell.

With the hesitancy of a coming summer
rain, she raises the bedroom shade
on another morning, paints her toenails,
in the mirror she sees a cloudless sky;
they’ve been together five years now,
through all the pages of her diary,
Saturdays circled in red, last night
he called her his angel but since Heaven
is unattainable to the living she doesn’t know
what to do, maybe buy chardonnay for later.

Love the last stanza, especially!

Thanks. This is more like three poems that need separation. Glad you liked the last idea.

68degrees

I'm okay with you being only part way in

Thanks for the thoughts here.

68degrees

68degrees wrote:Thanks. This is more like three poems that need separation. Glad you liked the last idea.

68degrees

Maybe number them? Just an idea. That's what I do sometimes. I see this as one piece but it could be 3 but it could be 3-in-1.

I've had people tell me, "You have 5 poems here" because I've often written long ones. If I separate it to turn it into multiple poems, it ruins the whole dynamic, I've found. (or sometimes anyway). But if I number them... 1, 2, 3 .... sometimes I like that effect.

Aw, to hell with it. It doesn't matter. It's a poem and I like it just like it is. I was just saying the last stanza especially stood out for me.

Good writing, 68 ... as always. I enjoy your work.

...I sit upon the plate
simply awaiting my fate
to enter heavens gate...


rocking write.

riteon.

well crafted 68...imaginative... with direction and pace...like doreen very fond of the last stanza, but it's all good..." he called her his angel but since Heaven / is unattainable to the living she doesn't know / what to do, maybe buy chardonnay for later "

superb

Thanks to all who I haven't responded to...

I coach high school golf and once I start (yes, the snow is gone) my participation with anything is sporadic at best. Again, thanks.

68degrees

I coach both boys and girls golf. No margaritas until kiddies leave

I love golf more than writing (gasp). Kills my motivation to write when the sun is out and it's a beautiful day. First to admit it and I don't even care.

68degrees

FORE!

Hahaha! .... Oh curlermanl, you got some golf balls!

68degrees wrote:I coach both boys and girls golf. No margaritas until kiddies leave

I love golf more than writing (gasp). Kills my motivation to write when the sun is out and it's a beautiful day. First to admit it and I don't even care.

68degrees

I think that's really cool, 68! You teach 'em about the driver, the wedge! Gotta love it!

I've written one poem about golfing w/my dad. Will post one day.

Funny, but it's the really important things, the things in the craw of the heart that are the hardest to write about sometimes.

68degrees