He scoops ladles full in a sugar shack,
drapes over and dabbles in her morning residue
when she spills heavy recklessness, caving in.
Periodicals come one by one as they read
each other’s palms in foreign accents and
signed languages, no nearer their hearts’ content.
Back in a bombshell wave, radio signals
curl her characteristics better than her magic
in a hair wand she has owned more than once.
With sand falling from her locks like ant boulders,
she mounts a silent hostility, waving radiant limbs
in mock anger as if summer were her name,
and every other season were her unborn children.
He locks his jaw for her to see his clenched teeth,
then whistles like a hell-bent vaudevillian,
gold plated and ready to sugar her shack down.
© Nublin’s Pub, 2009
Author notes
gold from your contest, Rabid Intention
i'm waiting for the stone monument to be risen in your likeness...
A contest entry
- For Past Dalaney Contest Gold Winners by Dalaney.
10850 points, ended June 16, 11 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
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Your language is simple and direct, the strongest effects leverage the depth of honesty and the courage to confront the deeper currents of life. The poem does not reach for pyrotechnics, nor does it attempt the false "realism" of too many over earnest, over gritty would-be Buksowskis. If there is magic in your garden (and there is), it comes from a close examination of life's common dramas...
As with much of your work, this both resonate with depth and reachs for the stars.
L is for...
~ crissy♥
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smiling at your author note....it might be a verrrry long wait for that monument. i've never left the tunnel...i just can't see the light....
it's been a time...
and, i would like to talk about this poem. don't count me out.
love, lane
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Hey, there's nothing to whitling rock. Don't be surprised when the masses raise up your image before you know it so you can relish in your goddessness! I say you've been gone from the tunnel for far too long and haven't found your way back. talk when you can and leave the other stuff for others to figure out... 1......2......3......
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Lovely. I had forgotten hair wands as kate keeps herself shorn to a stylish tease, but there's magic in the wave, magic in the mushroom scent a-wafting, and magic in your little wordlings.
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I can't tell if this is steeped in deep metaphor or purely the dribblings from the mind of one who mistakes wood alcohol for that of grain. Doesn't matter either way as I like the descriptive images gathered here ("sand...like ant boulders", fabulous!). Best of luck in the contest
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oh, this is good...
I can see why it was gold. Loved those last two stanzas. My golds all look kinda tarnished now.
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images merge
you are back on the golden lane highway, enroute to another good caning, i see. sweet. keep going and don't look back. all the best. --pillar-of-sugar phish
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just got lost on the back roads heading to somewhere... sweet tooth made me do it...
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