The Strong, Silent Type (BTP #4)

The week's prompt was to write about an aphrodisiac...YIKES! 
This piece is quite personal...but luckily, the only aphrodisiac I need (as of yet) is written about below. 

It starts with just a simple glance,
a sideways tilt; his cheshire grin.
One eyebrow raised in beckoning,
his rumbling laugh
from deep within.

Then I may glimpse within his stare,
a magic mirror where I can
now see myself as he still does,
young, taut, un-scarred
by all the years.

That starts this old and tired heart,
to fire once again like new,
and feel a warm, soft moistening,
like custard melts
in summer’s sun.

His quietude in which I’ve lived,
through decades past and still to come,
now broken by one simple line,
a finger crooked,

and rasped, “come on”.
.
.
.(We've been together since 1972...)

War Within (BTP #3)

(fish scales courtesy of Photobucket)

There were some really interesting words in the prompt this week.  At first I used a majority of them, but they didn't make it through my "slash and burn" editing!  They did remind me of a theme, one which is a recurrent one with me...

Resistance is futile.

I doff my scales with my convictions-

all lay crumpled,

shed like armor,

-my caparison-

that once guarded me from

every hurtful word,

or fondled loving touch.

As finally I capitulate,

remove each barrier to closeness,

 I still retain

one small and tender bit,

-my protection-

folded gently,

and hid within some sacred purse

at rest within my silent heart.

.

.

.

This theme of protecting oneself from hurt and suffering by not letting go and being full open to others is something I struggle with daily.  It is a learned response.  (Writing poetry has really helped me with this...)

Where Did He Come From? (BTP # 2)

(photo of volvox algae courtesy of Martin B. Short PhD)

Although I found the words below almost immediately, I gave up trying to use them in a poem after about ten tries. Instead, began to remember who I got them from. It is by no means a great work of poetry...but it's written with love.

aqueous flagella amorphous polynomials
advection velocimetry quadratically
peclet volvox

When contemplating this word spaghetti
I find myself in awed amazement
on some small snip of boy I birthed.
Who’s nose I wiped,
and forced to bathe,
and eat broccoli without Cheez Whiz.
Who hated sports,
was scared to death of aliens,
and the theme from "Unsolved Mysteries".
Who collected leaves and rocks and
shells and bits of interesting nothing,
and shot out all our windows
with his b.b. gun
while pretending to kill aliens.
To think this stubborn, odd, and funny child,
with all his quirks and wild imagination,
could grow into a man that would

use these words quite casually

in daily conversation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I found these words in one small section of my son's doctoral dissertation, entitled "Fluids, Form and Function: The Role of Fluid Dynamics in the Evolution of Stalactities, Icicles, and Aquatic Microorganisms." His dad and I continue to marvel at how a boy from a very small town, born to very average parents, could end up with the mind he has. (We believe he was abducted by aliens!)

The Show Must Go On (BTP Prompt #1)

This poem is for anyone who ever felt they didn't "fit in", hated pretending that they do, - or thought themselves trapped by others expectations.

While preparing my entrance-

(a nightly performance)

with stones in my gut-

(and dispair in my soul)

in a ridiculous costume-

(so no one can see "me")

and a greasepainted smile-

(to pretend false emotion)

then under the klieglights-

(for blinding interrogation)

and cacophonous music-

(that mocks me so cruelly)

I scamper, cavorting-

(though I'd rather run screaming)

while invisible strings-

(like some marionette)

tug me this way and that-

(in a fool Punch & Judy)

to wild applause-

(from the rubes who surround me)

who I've fooled once again-

(into believing I'm human.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This first prompt from "Big Tent Poetry" asks us to write in the persona of someone in the circus. To me, this was quite easy, as I feel my life can be quite circus-like at times! Mostly I enjoy it, but underneath is always some very conflicted emotions. I tried to touch on that here.