Branches (RWP #115)

(photo courtesy of Photobucket)

This prompt suggestion to compile lists of what we do believe or not believe was quite interesting and soul searching. Upon examining both my lists it gave me an idea to take one of the things I believe in (commitment in a relationship) and turn it into a negative. Here is what I came up with.

Like young green willow
you’ve woven in-

twining amongst and
piercing through,

each organ, breath
and thought, until

enmeshed-
resigned-

I’ve mastered ways
to navigate

within these bonds
and carve

small freedoms
within my cage.

circa 1972 (RWP #113)

(Interior of 1968 Ford Bronco courtesy of Photobucket)

This prompt took me WAY out of my comfort zone! Not only is it written in a style I don't usually attempt, this is my first real sexual poetry (as to me that topic seems beaten to death). So...I decided to throw off my shackles and be glaringly honest in the spirit of this "cleansing" prompt.
PS this is dedicated to the one I STILL love...

Ready for anything
in a dust plastered Bronco,
two of the "uncool"
play grown-up
on a star-soaked
desert night.
Steamed up windows from
sweat-slick fumbling
as "Tupelo Honey" plays
for a brown-eyed girl.
Apple wine tongues
teasing - searching,
as blue jeans
twist and bind.
Damn gear shift
and concrete armrest.
Awkward giggles as
Toes curl
into cold naugahyde.
It’s all too perfect-
shame can wait.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(Tupelo Honey & Brown-Eyed Girl were our two favorite "make-out" songs...thanks, Van Morrison...)

Traveling (RWP #112)

This week's poetry prompt was to use a "narrative wallpaper". The thought of walls took me to lights from cars shining on them and it was a good jumping off point...

Headlights scan dark bedroom walls,
as tires roll
and engines growl.
Those wheels will take them far away
and leave me trapped- I cannot flee.

To make escape, to run away,
I fantasize, and float above
into each cold and blinding beam.
I am absorbed and trail along
to better worlds with kinder things.

There is no fighting in these dreams,
just calm, soft smiles
and gentle arms.
A caring place of quiet warmth,
all "Happy Families" in those cars.

Returning from my reverie,
to the never-ending nightly brawl
of ignorance and selfishness,
I build a tent of my resolve,
and grow a shell around my heart.