Wednesday, February 3, 2016

The Path





The Morgue File
Withered Flowers of Winter by Modnar


One foot in front of the other
their patterns old
like toes that
tread the sun

I walk.
It is the only way I know--
one foot
then another--
without the sight of youth.

Its mirth
parsed out,
cards fluttering
between spokes
singing their rhythm in the wind.

I hear them laughing.
pause.
I know the secrets
that their rhythms guard
That life flutters
by us
touches our cheeks
when we sleep,
mourning when we forget
that all we must do
is continue.

One foot in front of the other.
It is the only way I know.
one foot
another.


copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2016

We are challenged today to write about identity at Poets United
This is where the prompt took me.



Saturday, January 30, 2016

Mooring


The Morgue File
Watered
by Quicksandala


she passed me twice
head nodding
to some inner conversation
that only she could hear
lips curved their replies
wrapped in ribbons
around her ears

moored, in kelp beds so tangled
her ganglia
drifting across currents
only she can feel

fastening rag to bench
a tying off of ropes
rocked her gently
toward the dock where she had landed

pulling off bits
of rag or skin
I am not sure which.


copyright/all rights reserved

Friday, January 8, 2016

The Thief



The Morgue File


He held her up, wringing out
those bits that she clung to
littering the sidewalk
with her shine.

Unfolding himself
he mopped up
and wondered how much more
of her he could find
hanging around the bus stop.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2016


This is where a prompt on spontaneity took me today--unexpectedly dark write for me!



Thursday, December 17, 2015

The Way Home



The Morgue File



tears are private things
meant for coat pockets
on a Wednesday morning

they fray edges
and stain fabric
i pull at them
until i lose my way

if they were breadcrumbs
only the birds would follow.



copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2015



posted for Poets United Pantry

Sunday, November 29, 2015

The Prayer








The Morgue File
Painted Background 502
by Natureworks



i found thanks on the hardwoods
beneath my feet
their cracks
a fulfillment
of the generations
whose sloughing dreams
fell through their open eyes
into my cupped hands.



a small piece of thanks on this holiday weekend. I hope you all have had a wonderful holiday.

Copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2015

Posted for Poets United


Wednesday, November 18, 2015

Mercy, a Forgotten Language



The Morgue File



the sinking of things feels old to me
weight upon water
a tendency toward disappearance.

if i could
i would advocate
dismemberment
so that lost feelings could reattach somewhere
on recognisable terrain

but my mouth is clamped
and my soul silent
its language forgotten.

eyes open to the shimmer overhead
the light can be blinding
to those who see


Very rough piece today--At Poet's United we are writing about mercy.  I am not even sure if this is the beginning of one poem or several--but this is what came out of me as I thought about mercy today.

Copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2015






Saturday, November 7, 2015

Facetiming It










I talk to you across the 6000 plus mile distance

that separates us

your face fills my screen

freezing from time to time

with the poor connection

Did you know that you are golden?

Your hair,

the light,

Maybe is is just you,

the light inside you

that I see

and wrap myself up in.


copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2015