Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Strawberry Juice



The Morgue File



love is a slice of something sweet
that dribbles down your chin
strawberry juice
sluicing onto pinafore white
as you held me on your lap
and smiled

brilliantine hair
in sunlight

your smile
etching lines of forever

eyes still see you
the lines, a road map
home



copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2015

For my Papa, without whom I would have been lost. Posted for Poets United



Sunday, June 14, 2015

Garden Shorts



The Morgue File



1.

beetles know their way home
ground into blurry lines of movement
my eyes follow their tracks


2.

i flutter
in the still afternoon
awash in color
unseen


3.

burrow
until i cannot see the sun
home
again

4.

old bones
find sun first
as warmth
trickles into
sinovial fluid



copyright/all rights reserved. Audrey  Howitt 2015

It is a month of weddings, graduations,birthdays,  listened.and recitals in our family.  I sat in my garden today and listened.


Sunday, May 31, 2015

Resistance



Morgue File




you surprised me yesterday.

you knew,
much deeper than i,

that once again, i stand in my way

road lead, as they must,
to unexpected places

awkward turns imposing 
their own justice

lying in inexorability.

i have walked,
pushing past obstacles
moving stones.

the clearing of the road
was the thing 
i loved most.

but this stone,
moves me, 
past 
around
through.

resistance gains me nothing
as stones are inevitable,
each rejoicing in its own truth.

paths are funny that way.



copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2015

posted for Poet's United


Thursday, May 21, 2015

Edges






The Morgue File



as day passes
folding in on itself
i find the corners of you

left behind
as you passed into night
and fold myself into them
bit by bit
to feel your edges once more.



copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2015

Posted for dversepoets



Thursday, April 16, 2015

A Triptych




The Morgue File




A Triptych

1.

The sun casts its own shadows
making darkness out of light.
I stand in them sometimes
pulling my toes to the edge
watching the gravitational pull
against them.

2.

We harvest our natures
like patrons at a buffet
gorging on favorites
in fear that without that last bite
we will lose the selves we know.

3.

I cry into the wind sometimes
just to feel a sting in the creases.
salted rivers
know their way home.




copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2015

I am behind in the NaPo thing--this might be #12 on day 16--


The Journey Inward








Monday, April 13, 2015

Cranes






Paper Cranes Hiroshima
Danapit





i write in stillness,
the afternoon floating by.
clouds are like words
creating impressions in the sky
unfolding at their own pace.


soon the moment will pass
and i will fold that bit
of poem
into tiny folds

a crane for peace
a crane for memory
they take their positions
on bits of string
flocking toward blue
sliding by in the distance.


copyright/all rights reserved

I know I  have missed a couple for NaPoWriMo. So I think this might be #11???

The Journey Inward.

Friday, April 10, 2015

Waiting





The Morgue File




i burnt the last of you
along with sandalwood
in a bronzed tray
fired with the patina
of sleepless nights.

there was a time i thought
we would grow old
our wrinkled skin a haven
the bliss of the aged
a kiss on my forehead in the dark


i still see you
standing with coffee by the bed
waiting .

i stand by the bed now
and hope you can find me
waiting.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2015
my #9 for NaPoWriMo