Kiss Weird on the Mouth

I love prompts that offer me the chance to play with my weird… so I was all cackles and happy giggles when Sumana, over at Poets United, made “Weird” her Midweek Motif. And the theme arrived just in time, since this week NYC’s seasonal hot flashes seem to be just asking for it. 😉

“Kiss Weird on the Mouth”

On spring days that bloom
in the fall of winter’s cold,
I kiss Weird on the mouth
and invite her to dance
summer heat into my bones.

Weird’s hips twerk
to the tune of her own seasons,
hula-hooping
the Wheel of the Year
until spring’s hot comes in winter.

My pen teases the words
on the tip of my Muse’s tongue,
when winter stays
for much too long, and
I yearn for spring to come.

.
Wild Dancer“Wild Dancer”
inspired by the Sagewoman magazine logo
via

Flesh Wounds

“The calendar lies,
saying that only years have gone by;
my heart,
my flesh wounds
have ached for centuries.
Centuries-long winters
of nightly cold sweats
looking at your ageless face
behind clotting scarlet
shadows.”
~ Magaly Guerrero

This is a stanza from “Out of the Shadows”, a poem I wrote some years ago, in memory of a friend who was killed in action… The death of the four Marines who were gunned down in Chattanooga, Tennessee, brought back the same kind of sorrow. I didn’t know those men, but when lives are wasted… anyone with a blood-pumping heart ends up feeling the pain. May their souls, and the hearts of those they left behind, find some peace… soon.

Otriesse (Pop Surrealism), by Kristof CorvinusOtriesse (Pop Surrealism), by Kristof Corvinus; in his description, the artist calls her a “Spring goddess”. I think the detail makes Otriesse the perfect companion for this remembrance post… for in times of loss and darkness, symbols of rebirth might bloom hope.

Gossiping with Frog-Cups

I wanted to feel you
inside out, while I peeled my skin
off your thorned bones.

I wanted to speak
your many names into the wind;
chant to all, “He’s mine!” Unwanted,
and as disposable as the twists
binding a reanimated heart to life, but mine.

Uncanny… wants
younger than the cruellest month
taste of ancient on my tongue,
when all I want is for birdsong
to bedeck the wind
(from moon till sun),
while I gossip with frog-cups.

***
for NaPoWriMo with Magaly Guerrero 2015, Day 29 – This Poem Has a Mission: In three stanzas, detail what (if anything) you wish to accomplish with the poems you wrote this month, or with poetry writing in general.

linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (Frog-Cups in New York City)

Frog-CupsFrog-Cups (growing near my house)