how to refill an upset basin of water

the body of water had been displaced
pools of liquid puddling about the edge of the upset basin
silently mocking
snickering disapproval
you’ve lost, you’ve lost
so much for planning

you told me to move
so that I wouldn’t be in the way of things

I may have pulled the string a little too hard

when I collect the empty container
I will place it in a bed of flowers
wild flowers will do nicely

I like to let the rain wash my car
always thought of it as a natural cleansing

if the wild flowers die
then I will know
I will know why

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The Daily Post: Witness

For The Daily Post One-Word Prompt: Witness

I am witness to words and behaviors, secrets and privileged information, the dirty one side keeps hidden and the conspiracy the other side must maintain. I see people as they are human. I am witness to both the lies and the truths. I see people as they are not color. And I am witness because the seeds of both colors were birthed in me. To know what it is to be both and not be received as either compels me to a higher plane of identity. And I transcend skin color because I am witness.

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Chicago, circa 1985

 

The Daily Post – Slowly

At times, I prefer to move rather slowly, regarding, with great care, all of the sounds that accompany my world.  The sound of a key entering the keyhole of a door and clicking the deadbolt to locked is one that provokes a sense of finality.  And my insides lurch with small dread at the cry of sirens from any first responder vehicle.  Loud, raspy laughter breaking through the numbing white hiss of passing traffic force my lips into a smile.

At times, I prefer to move rather slowly, training my mind to stay; linking thoughts to sound to physical sensation.  I feel warming in my tummy at the sound of that very particular gulp only heard when pouring coffee from a full pot into my rounded mug.  The whiz of the wind rustling through my thick, curly hair, and across the thinner skin covering my ears, fills me with delightful tingling liberation.  There is nothing else in that moment, or that moment, or that moment but the sound and me.

At times, I prefer to move rather slowly so that I can be.

 

Written for: https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/slowly/

Her spirit’s guest

 

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The ocean called from hundreds of miles away.

 

The ocean called from hundreds of miles away. She felt its pull, like so many particles of sand, tingling and prickling her skin. Her pores oozed with the essence of sea salt and the light of the glowing sun. Its very substance taking residence. Had she unwittingly summoned this houseguest, inviting pleasant disquietude to stay and visit awhile? She vowed to make the ocean welcome, a perennial guest in her spirit’s garden.

Viper

Every now and then, situations arise allowing you to discern distinct animal characteristics within fellow human beings. Sometimes these experiences can be humorous; most times, they shed light on the truth of the individual in question. And, on a more general level, they stimulate contemplation about our supposed level of sophistication relative to other life forms.

This poem was inspired by such an experience.

viper

she watched and waited

siphoning warmth unnoticed

deftly positioned

rooted in envy’s green cut

driven to covert carnage