Sunday, September 30, 2012

The Currency of Day's End








wikimedia commons
Henry Raeburn
Portrait of Ms. Eleanor Urquhart




Day seasons its end
with crumbs of stale bread
salty upon my tongue
lodging between teeth
taking up residence in tiny pockets,

and remind me of
the unfolding lamp of the morning to come
when the heart’s manna
lying fresh
opens again
into the promise of the day
strewn with honey and herb
to heighten flavor
and smooth
its path.

These crumbs I reserve for later--
Ziplocked--
for ends
for loneliness
for promises made
and blithely spent.
I hold the currency of day’s end.


copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2012

Shared with Poets United Poetry Pantry 

Monday, September 24, 2012

The Volume of Synapse Unheeded



Neurone observé au microscope optique.
Fanny CASTETS





Much in the voluminous landscape
escapes my eye
except perhaps in my peripheral view
and there, takes up residence
in some part of my body
that I don’t know well.

A part that works on some other kind of circuit
and is wired
subtly,
copiously,
in places
you can’t see
and I can’t touch.

Images are fed onto neuron pathways
on an as needed basis
gliding electrical
charges
like the flutter of white fingers
near your collar at a party
or a card indiscriminately shoved
between car seats.

If I can disconnect the circuit—
If I do that
will the pain of these
images
pass into synapse unheeded?

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2012


A note for my friends at Dverse Pub--my work schedule may not allow me to participate on Tuesdays--at least not much---hopefully, i will continue to find you, and you me---

Monday, September 17, 2012

Our Lady of the Pootens



wikimedia commons
public domain in the United States
Lamentation of Christ, Erfurt, c. 1480, limewood, original colours
Skulpturensammlung (Inv. 5930, erworben 1910), Bode-Museum, Berlin
Photo: Andreas Praefcke 









He called me “our lady of the pootens,”
“pootens” being those
creatures who could not
survive on their own.

The appellation was not meant in honor
nor in love--
the sardonic maybe,
inevitable, 

as I picked up yet another
hurt and hungry animal
to harbor for a time,
until it healed,
or died.

He didn’t know that was empathy.
He wanted it to be something else,
a space that I carved out
only for Him
a space for Him
to heal,
or die.

But I couldn’t do it for Him.
I just couldn’t.





copyright/all rights reserved 2012 Audrey Howitt 


Friday, September 14, 2012

Depression's Jig




wikimedia commons
Barona 1




 I dance the jig of depression’s watch
waiting
in the slowing two-step of waltz undone
to see if its face
has changed this time.

A grimace loosens
as torso bends toward
my ever present partner,
and those watching
seldom realize
that this represents
improvement
over the flatness of the watch,
and I wonder
how many more
dances
will fit
on my dance card
before the music stills.


copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2012

Shared with Poets United Poetry Pantry 

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

The Tactus of Time's Tenderness



wikimedia commons
A night-blooming cerius Selenicereus grandiflorus, originally titled The Night-Blowing Cereus[sic] when it appeared in the The Temple of Flora, 1804.
Robert John Thornton (1768-1837)
USA


I sang my way through
the rhythm of your breath
each one filled
with dreams of worry
for the day to come
and I felt myself
slip under your ribcage
to cradle your heart
to ease
for a moment
the lines creasing its flow,
unfolding each in turn.


I breathed into your lungs
the steadiness of love’s even rhythm--
its pulse,
that tactus
of time’s tenderness,
and bathed the moon light
into the creases around mouth
and eye
as dreams melted
into the deeper sleep
of the veil descended.


copyright/all right reserved Audrey Howitt 2012

posted for Dverse

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

My Prayer At Bavokerk



Bavokerk, Haarlam


I stand in the whisper
of souls’ keenest desires
flagrant in their wanting,
the murmurs so loud
my ears hammer
in the same harmony
of heart beats
synching across eons.

If I sit still long enough
will the pipes of their bodies
release those desires
molecule by molecule
into the ether
of the souls’ remembrances:
a sigh recalled,
a tear abstained,
a word muted
in the wind of time?

I sit silent
a witness
holding the door open for you.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2012

posted for Dverse

Sunday, September 2, 2012

The Doorway of My Dreams

This is a favorite of mine currently up on Hubpages. I hope that you enjoy this one!

Thank you,

Audrey


http://audreyhowitt.hubpages.com/_2ztfnlqn21ej7/hub/The-Doorway-of-My-Dreams

Short and Sweet A Set of 10-word Poems


I have decided to include links here to some of my work on other sites, including Hubpages. Below is a set of short pieces. From time to time  I like to limit myself to only 10 words. I hope that you enjoy these.

Audrey

http://audreyhowitt.hubpages.com/_2ztfnlqn21ej7/hub/Short-and-Sweet-A-Set-of-10-word-Poems