Tuesday, March 27, 2012

The Jar Beneath My Tongue


By Henjansson (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons


I keep my disappointment in a jar beneath my tongue
and I let it roll around there sometimes
just to see what it tastes like.

Sometimes when I am feeling alone
I take it out,
check its color,
its veneer--
--bright blue lapis.

Today it slides easily 
from one side to another
and a coolness seeps out--
cucumber and mint.
It isn't what I expect of disappointment really.
I had thought a bitter flavor,
or spicy,
so I could feel my anger.

Today as it slips and rolls
in its coolness
I wonder if anger will come
or will its coolness soothe~

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2012


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Monday, March 19, 2012

Thoughts in the Glass of Time



I miss the possibilities,
the open-ended themes
allowed free rein and unfettered interpretation.
I miss the endless seconds
passing through the hourglass of life’s days.
I miss the heat of idealism
and the energy burning
without obvious cause
and to spilled effect.
Mostly, I miss the sense that
more days are ahead of me
than are behind me.

But I do not miss
the uncertainty of self,
nor the pain of new love
tattered by tears in the fabric of lives.
Nor do I miss the innocence
of the first blood of riotous adulthood.
Instead, I look
to the quickening of pulse
in the frost of my autumn,
to the moment of peace within the day
when horizon is lost
within the colors of dusk,
and to when I can hold the hand
of my beloved
into the thickening night,
and feel the pulse of our two bodies
merge in time.

copyright/All rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2012 

Come join us at Dverse  today 3:00 EST. Pull up a poem or two.

Monday, March 12, 2012

Cry For the Lost Child


Solitary Duality of the Soul. found on the martyr train in Atlanta Ga



I cry for you in those moments
when I feel your despair (my lost child),
in those moments
when fear overtakes,
overruns,
overrides
thinking--
when memories burst
through dams and walls
carefully constructed.
(I have had years of practice)

Panicked,
on fire--
flee
the death that waits
in the darkened corner
of your reptilian smile.
(You did this to me—to her)

And the pity,
the real pity--
You don’t know--
Can’t understand---
That I
(and she)
will pay forever
for your sin.

I cry for me.

copyright/all rights reserved AudreyHowitt 2012 

Come join us at Dverse  today 3:00 EST. Pull up a poem or two.

Sunday, March 4, 2012

The Dance of Trees


Albert Pinkham Ryder
 Siegfried und die Rheintöchter


You arrive when summoned
by softly singing winds;
fluted pipes
calling each by name.
In the pink-orange of dusky ballroom,
branches bend
in timorous supplication
dance card noted.
You whisper each name.
Breezes defy
but dryads hold tight
to sap and leaf
and carry the message
of undulating earth.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2012 

Come join us at Dverse  today 3:00 EST. Pull up a poem or two.