Sunday, December 10, 2017

Demeter’s Sorrow





Autumn arrives in red-leaved clusters
creating its own frisson, breath suspended,
pontoons adrift,

gathering pockets of earth unto herself
cradling each,
a palette of promised renewal, veiled
by unshed tears.

Demeter sadly holds out dying grasses
toward the evening’s whisper of winter,
the time of waiting, the donning of white down,
eclipsing the sun
until shoots of spring herald joy’s return.



Audrey Howitt copyright/all rights reserved 2017

originally published in Greek Fire, Lost Tower Publications,

ISBN 13 978-1508589853

Posted today for Poets United Pantry
and for dVerse

Sunday, December 3, 2017

39 weeks



winter blooms
sending cool thoughts
to heated days

we wait
turn clocks

a light in the window
at dusk

i begin again
knit
purl
to cover you
when you arrive

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2017

We are counting down days before my older daughter gives birth to Max--I will be a grandmother!

Posted for Poets United Pantry





Sunday, October 29, 2017

Willing Myself to Remember



drunk with freedom,
an afternoon takes on
opaque colors

i wander streets, mumbling
unknown addresses
to vacant hours

in search
of a memory
marked in sepia wash


All rights reserved/copyright Audrey Howitt 2017

Posted for Poets United

Sunday, October 22, 2017

Confessions


Morgue File
froggidonna



when she bared her soul it was too late
her words slack in the wind
eyes rimmed in red

her nails hung to dry
blistering on bent nails
in aged sun

when she swore allegiance
it was only to tiny gods

the ones whose noses she had wiped
at noon
the ones whose hair she had braided
at dusk

her words litter hallways
never swept
her heart
a welcome mat



copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt

Posted for Poets United Pantry


Note: I am not sure where this one came from or what it really means yet--it feels unfinished, but not sure where to take it just yet

Sunday, October 8, 2017

Learning Braille









MorgueFile
lauramusikanski



stillness hangs taut
like stories embroidered
on monk's cloth

its weave loose
until my needle jabs through

i know each thread

colors carefully chosen,
shelf paper
for naked cupboards 

smiling crookedly at the oddities
that floss has created

i lay my fingers
on top
and read
each tale

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2017

Posted for Poets United

Sunday, September 10, 2017

The Function of Mud



MorgueFile
kconners



i stand in the middle of the floor
toes pointing north
heart pulling west
toward the dirt and moss
where you lie

my feet can't move
they have forgotten how

i would bury them with you
so you could teach them
right from left,
teach my heart to beat again

instead, i stuff dirt into my mouth
swallow its grit
feel it follow veins

i am a golem
in the dark

but only until the next tear
falls
turning my feet to mud


copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2017

posted for Poets   and for dVerse

Thursday, August 17, 2017

The Price of Gold





Flame Artwork by Audrey Howitt



on the advice of counsel
he threads lies with metallic colors
twisting them into Gordian knots of deceit
to make them more attractive
to starved eyes.

he sits on glittering mountains
counts gold
with sinful fingers, as he
pulls himself up to view the horizon
eyes shaded against the pale light.

overcome by his own beauty,
he fails to see
anything.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2017