Trial by Fire

I wander for water in no-man's land
But searching there gains none,
Instead I find the dragon's breath
My cheek licked by his tongue.

With slap and sting the tongue's fork scorched
The hollow in my face,
Now branded there, my voice shrieks out,
"My shame, my life's disgrace!"

The dragon speaks, voice low and deep
With rumblings all around,
Yet voice upon voice, with echoes, lost,
I can not hear a sound.

In fear I tremble as I seek
Approval in his eye,
I hope therefore, by pleasing him
He'll spare me this goodbye.

With furrowed brow, his eyes bore deep
I know that I have lost,
He squints them tight as jaw grows wide,
Demanding by fire, my cost.

My flesh begins to melt away
From skin on down to bone,
I scream in pain as flames expose
All hurt I've ever known.
...

I wander naked through the woods
I do not know my name,
For all that was before is gone
And only bones remain.

________

In gratitude, this poem was inspired by many blogs I've been reading lately: Thanks to Rick from The Writer and The White Cat for the dragon inspiration. Thanks to Jason, from The Clarity of Night on getting in touch with your pain, and thanks to K from Old Mossy Moon for reminding me how much I love rhyming and how fun it is to read. All the links are on the right side of my page under the heading "Blogs in my community".

Thank you to the Blog-Unity

Dear Readers,

I am very much in gratitude for your eyes, and for your comments, and for your blog postings. It is an odd friendship we all share here in the Blog-Unity. Known by words only, and yet with so much depth as all the writers here know how much you have let your heart flow into your posts. I am honored to be a part of such a great community. A very Happy Thanksgiving to you all.

With love,
Cat

The Monkey Mind Paints

With a quiet mind, she stepped out into the room, a paint roller in hand, and started to spread the color on the walls. At first it nibbled at her thoughts, and as she slowly began to replace the worn and dirty white walls with color, she could feel the effect overcome her like a wave, it was visceral. Words that would be poems started to swirl through her mind like leaves falling off the tree in the whistling autumn wind. Instead of writing them down, she edged into the corners with her brush…

I don’t know if it was the quickening of my heart
As you looked over my shoulder at the screen
Perhaps it was the sound of your voice
Falling like silk over my ears
I didn’t mind the coffee on your breath
Or your hair all asunder, the holes in your sleeve
Something unseen, unknowable was pulling me toward

“OW!” She screamed as the cat bit her ankle. Chasing him as he bounded across the room, she noted that his back was coated with yellow paint. She managed to grab him by the tail just as he was about to jump onto the sofa. “Into the bedroom with you,” she said after cleaning him off. She deposited him into the room and closed the door. She paused and glanced around the room noting the play of colors before picking up the roller again to continue the task. She rolled on the stuff, up and down, over and across…

Listen to the wind howling through the windows
Lying here next to you on this cold winter night
My hand under my pillow as my finger reaches
Toward your face, I find it is compelled
to trace the outline of your lip
You awaken at the touch of

“Damn!” she explicated as she lost control of the roller and painted a large swath of the wrong color on the ceiling.

Gone, you never wanted me,
You were repelled at the sight of me
I am just an aging tired woman
Desperate for passion
In the final days before the bleeding stops.
I am worthless, I am vile
I

The phone rang. She put the roller down and ran toward where she thought the phone might be. It wasn’t there. She followed the sound like a homing beacon until she found it. “Can you bring the chicken downstairs, I’m hungry”, her father beckoned from the downstairs apartment. She went to the refrigerator, got the leftover bird and brought it downstairs. Returning through the basement door, she stopped at the landing and surveyed the living room, now completely clothed in its glorious new coat. She stood staring at the walls, feeling the living blood returning to her cheeks.

You are exquisite in your own right
You are color, I invite you in
Possess my thoughts
Inhabit my soul
Inspire my hands
To be your servants
Quiet my drunken mind
With your cool watery blues
Enliven my blood with your rusty reds
Bring my thoughts
Into to the light of your golden sun.

She let the cat out of the bedroom and stooped down to build a fire in the stove. As the coals warmed the air, the two of them lay blissfully entwined on the sofa and she fell asleep to the song of his purr.

Gone Blog AWOL

Poetic form: Dr. Suessian

The poet leaves cyberspace momentarily to participate in creating order in the real world.

Where is the poet?
Is she here or there?
I don't see her anywhere!
Why she is AWOL can't you see?
Back in the real world being busy!

She's painting her walls, one two and three.
This will make the poet wax so happy.
One wall is rust red, to warm her with heat,
One wall spun in gold to stay light on her feet,
The blue wall inspires creativity
Look watch her dance! She is filled with such glee!

Please be patient oh readers,
She will return soon
With a mind full of color
And perhaps with a tune...

Blood of my veins

From the roots began
The quest to thrive
Long fingers reached down
searching in vein for a place to drink
But all was dry, no water could be found
Wilted, defeated, dying...
In her final hours she cried out!
Her face beaming red in the heated blood of passion
Her shout so loud the whole world stopped,
Becoming utterly still...

Slowly, a leaf fell from its branch and fluttered to the ground.

One by one the tears began to fall
And the oceans rose
And the streams rose
And everything that was living drank from the waters
And returned to the depleted Earth
Nourishing her soils to receive
The seeds of tomorrow's children
The roots of my ground,
the blood of my veins.

A New Era Dawns

Good Night! I say to the setting sun
Adieu to the seasons gone by.
With you, oh past, deep wrinkles have formed
Hairs are grayed, Bones swelled,
And even the wind aches with pain,
Yes age has drawn its etchings
As we watched helplessly with furrowed brow,
The transgressions of yesterday.

Perhaps a part of the natural order,
or so a wise sage would speak.

And how can I speak ill of you, oh wretched past
For you have brought profound meaning to the music
Which shall ring out in the new morn
As a thousand million peacocks trumpeting across the desert
"Behold! A Brand New Day"

On the historic win of President Elect Barack Obama.

Clarity

Somewhere,
I heard the thought
That from the highest plane
The confusion becomes undistorted
And is all a part of the perfect order

I would like to dedicate this poem to Madelyn Dunham, Barack Obama's grandmother. I'm sure she is up there now on that highest plane helping to put order into things down here.

Guardian of the Gates

I am calling you to this plane
Naga Kanya, guardian of the gates
The twisting of the serpents
Has wrung dry the waters of your ocean
It is time for you to return
And bring the moisture of compassion
To this parched dry land
Your protection is needed at this time
To return us to the intended path
With your sacred offering,
Let the tides wash clean our shores
And usher in the winds of change
To heed our collective call

To Judith, I thank you for the inspiration...