Reliance

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Golden fluid holder
monkey mind, mine
I cling to
the elixir of life
found far away
it speaks
the language
of fear
and hope
and uncertainty
the reminder
of what has been
and what will always now be
nestles in the hollow
above my heart
a cold and comforting reminder
of the ritual
that has become
life.

 

Author April Wells
published January 10, 2016
poetry form: Ekphrasis…

Saturday Morning Replete With Coffee

2012-01-01 13.42.20The week went remarkably well
I only fell apart every other second
well, mostly
I deem it a success
and
now…
it is Saturday

fear chokes
the wind
puddles float
and where the hell is the dog
deer dance in the periphery
stupid squirrels
the music was wonderful
some I never heard before
the coffee, where the hell is the coffee
why are you waking me at three
fake sleep
snow, I hope it snows, I want it to snow, make it snow
why the hell don’t my socks match
where is the damn dog
I am not fast but I am strong
I’m not strong
I am terrified
I wish I could run
this close to four weeks out (five weeks out now) I can’t run
why does the dog have my coffee
two years (thirty two years), an eternity, a heartbeat
a heartbeat?  no, just the stupid cat purring
NO… don’t leave, I Promise I Won’t Move!!!
what if
what if
what if
what the hell is that smell
stupid cat, REALLY?  geeze
I hide beneath
the blankets
held together only with the screams that can not come
I choke on the fear
why does time pass so quickly
so slowly
so…
where the hell is my coffee
have to be strong
no way to be strong
tears hide, but are always there
can’t face the possibility
and when in God’s name will we have reality
Tie a knot, it’s a marathon not a sprint
why the hell were you riding that bike in the kitchen
no wait, a dream

And the cold insistent rain
covers it all
shines the street
and fogs reality

Author: April Wells
published January 9, 2016
my brain’s take on Chance Operations

To Wax Poetic

Chocolate Chips and Milking Cow Trees
The things of poems and dreams
to write
to curse
to wax poetic
answering the siren song

Poetic words  dance
stanzas sing, meter fiddles
poem breathes alive
and in the writing, poet
looses the dreamer tanka

They come unbidden
the words that cannot be stilled
vomited to haiku

Who’s words these are
I think you know
the form is in the singing though
I wonder will you wander near
as from the source I chose to go

And here
on gilded page
the words
that smash aimlessly
around and around in my brain
come to rest
and in the resting
take on their own lives?

I wonder…

 

Author April Wells
Published 1/8/2016
Form:  Ars Poetica??? maybe

Warrior

Heed the words of the warrior
Fight the best fight
feel the pain
feel the cold
feel the earth beneath my feet
feel my feet pound rhythm on the street
feel the darkness surround, ease, soothe, caress
feel the bright glare of sunlight warm from within
feel warm gentle breath of the sleeping cat in memory
feel the fear that oozes into every corner
feel the tickle of every blade of grass
feel the sweat trickle down the small of the back
feel the music swirl inside
feel the water slake, cool, drip from icy chin
feel the pain
feel the loneliness
feel the gentle satisfaction of the finish line
and in retrospect, when the race is run
understand and remember all that you did

 

Author: April Wells
published January 7, 2016
Poetic Technique: Anaphora

Doing the Needful

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Lake Erie on New Years Day 2016

Into the wild
into the cold
that bites
that chews
that freezes
and steals the breath
angry lake
mirrors
the anger
and fear
that chew at my insides
yet here is where
I run
to feel the frozen sand
beneath my booted feet
to touch
what grounds me
to steal
the bits and pieces
of the eternal
pink and yellow glass
sharp edges knocked smooth
stones worn away
a moment in time
that fits so exactly
filling the hole
that needed to be eased

author: April Wells
published: January 2, 2016

RA

My Knuckle Bump HandSnippets heard
and overheard
as the world turns round and round
yes, arthritis in my ankles
my tendinitis screams at me
these aches and pains
are killing me
it must be getting old
thank God it’s not RA

Jean was told she would need
her hip replaced in may
Bob just heard
the scary word
the bump he found was tumor benign
surgery went fine,
we have dinner at nine
Ethel heard that Gladys know
a friend of a friend has gout
so many people
so much is wrong
but at least it’s not RA

The things you hear
from those far and near
words plaintive with fear
as the path you walk, dear,
you walk with the knowing
As they whisper and fuss
you do what you must
to deal with your RA

Crushing

image

Do you see the candle dance
we shiver together in the darkness
the too loud silence
scraping fingernails on
the chalkboard of the night
Crickets and coffee caress
pre-dawn draws
the life from the night
and all that is being done
has been done
all that is left
is the crushing silence
that is so loud
it screams

Sing the Song of Success…

October 2015 1Success signs still small songs
shining shimmering in the sunlight
success slides silently between
silk sheets of sorrow
and smiles from sympathetic witnesses
sitting on the sidelines
singing their own songs
success stirs the pot
sprinkles spices liberally
sets the table
with ordinary dishes
serves up sumptuous portions
of chocolate covered gruel
that tastes disturbingly sensual
success
is that still small space
inside your soul
that smiles in the silent darkness
and shouts yes, quietly, in your brain

 

 

This poem brought to you by the OctPoWriMo prompt for today… and the number three (not 11… I started late)