Sunday, March 31, 2013

Papa's Gift

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The Poem of the Soul
Louis Janmot
In the Public Domain in the United States

He sat often in a chair
Eyes closed
Wagner’s Parsifal was a favorite
Pouring out of Grundig speakers
Face enrapt
Soul traveling elsewhere I suspect

On Tuesday evenings
After his lodge meetings
We often discussed soul
And aura
And astral projection

I was 12 I think
When he first read my aura
And I knew that other 12 year-old’s fathers
Weren’t doing this with their daughters

And so now
For the gift given so many years ago
I thank you
Again and again
With eyes closed
I sit and listen to Barber’s Adagio for Strings
And feel my soul loosen a bit
To seek you out
To touch you again
And remember

copyright/all right reserved Audrey Howitt 2013

Sunday, March 24, 2013

Dreams of Youth

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Dante Rossetti
The Day Dream
In the Public Domain in the United States, Australia and the EU

Your dreams cascade in ripples
Of orange and yellow
(your favorite garden flowers have told me so)
And buoy the darkened images
Found dissonant in time’s map

And held within a ring of light
(golden perhaps)
You walk
Among the brisk rise and fall
Of petalled moments

While in your dreams
Your breath is sweeter
(the mint of toothpaste obliterated)

And the delights of tongue and lips

A pleasure cupped
In this crone’s hands
A gift
As youth swings by us
For a moment

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2013

posted for Poets United Poetry Pantry #143

Friday, March 15, 2013

The Choice

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Futurist painting "Dynamism of a Soccer Player" by Italian artist Umberto Boccioni
In the public Domain in the United States

I am the She that is and was
monster mother
a venomous one at that
and each day
I make choices
based on the dreams of the night
and the eclipse of the day
to love and protect
you my young
or to stay the moment
and move to slay you
with the indolence of My self-serving bitterness
wrapped in parchment
fused with My pain
with My loneliness
today I find the space where
tears break free and bathe again
in salty brine
and so slowly
that you do not see
i fold and give you myself turned inward again
a cocoon fused with my love

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2013

posted for the Toads: Mary's Mixed Bag

and shared with Poets United Pantry #142

Friday, March 8, 2013

A Bit of Sauce

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Photo: Andreas Praefcke
Figure group of the Commedia group cooking in hard-paste porcelain painted with enamels and gilded, Imperial Vienna Porcelain factory, Vienna, 1744-1749.
Victoria and Albert Museum, London, museum no. C.95-1923

I tried to cook
But lost my place
On the recipe card
That held the right mix
Of salt to sauce.

And as I swung my hips
In your direction
I lost the spice jar as well.
But oh my oh my
I didn’t lose the sauce!

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2013


to see more about the artist, visit here

I float
Upon a bed of brine.
Salt cradles every crevice.
Foam floats under my head.

The salt cures and washes away
The momentary strife of man’s infidelity,
A moment held and remembered
From time to time as salt licks and kisses its rememberances.

I bleed the trauma of sadness
Replacing her face with the faces of eyes washed clean.
I look up at the sun
As it bakes my body anew
a crysalis reformed,
To give birth again
In salt and brine
And replenish the water
With life.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2013

Posted on International Women's Day
for Toads

And posted for Poets United Pantry

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

The Struggle

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Sun and Spider Web
Ed Schipul

The frailty of life
skidded by me today,
a reminder.

Death's sticky note
pasted on your forehead
a "to-do" note
that you undid.

And later, watching you
I was reminded of mom
and how she struggled
to breathe in.
And just for a moment,
as you had had trouble breathing,
I saw the same flare of fear
bright and strong,
it's hold like 
an eclipse of the sun.

I held your hand
as the nurse
eased your breath
back into your body
and tried
not to let you see the fear
blooming inside me.

Later, as I left for the day
to return to the sun-
to my life,
I breathed in the air
tasting of trees,
and kissed the dew
of morning
as it stole into my shoes
from the wet grass.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2013