My Tiny Bag of Sand (February 2007)

under every pyramid
and bodies freshly tanned
finds the topic of my poem
it’s my tiny bag of sand

I can see it in my mind
like ideas newly planned
a little piece of Heaven
is my tiny bag of sand

people walk along the coastline
picking shells up in their hand
but they’ll never grasp the concept
of my tiny bag of sand

it’s my beauty, it’s my pleasure
it’s my way around the bland
it reminds me of a better day
my tiny bag of sand

   

      

Copyright L.M. 2007. (alternate end stanza:
it’s my beauty, it’s my pleasure
it’s my way around the bland
it reminds me of a better day
on vacation, far away
idolizing Hemingway
my tiny bag of sand )

Wishing Well

bunchcut clumps of frozen roses
bundled tight with severed hoses
lay at rest beside a broken/wingèd
horse upon a token
buried deep beneath a well
somewhere in its wat’ry cell
reflects a beam of fortune calling
stalling, standing ten feet tall
against the wall, much to bestow
a tiny glist’ning, far below

in a note of candid calling
bawling of an issue, wrote
what comes as coming standard
wish you naught a fret, refraining gloat
a stubborn goat, a sour day’s bet
will ‘ere the morning hour be met
and call you shall with all in hues
this blinded, baited, blessèd news

Copyright L.M. 2007.

They match my personality

I have a particular fondness for animals that are just a little quirky.  Some of my favourite creatures include:

  • sloths
  • lemurs
  • flying squirrels/sugar gliders
  • grasshoppers
  • leafhoppers
  • praying manti
  • caterpillars
  • sowbugs/pillbugs
  • tiny mauve butterflies
  • worms
  • slugs
  • snails
  • frogs
  • salamanders
  • crabs
  • the little creatures inside butterfly shells that bury themselves in the sand when they get washed up on shore…..

The list goes on…..

Hanging On (2005)

I cannot say I’m pleased
repetition is, however, foreseeable
and I did not foresee
a failure on my part for feeling
the rudimentary error of my species
a mistake Mother Nature corrected with the others
and hoping
a moronic faux-pas in this century
if I collapse, you’ll understand
for I’ve forgotten what is new
and I’ll remember the old
all over again so it is once more fresh and disturbed

tiny speckled thoughts of random
tear me away into bliss
but sharp jabs in my side remind me
such cringing should be my guest
it heralds not impossibility
and speaks with the ancient eyes
so why do I feel so lost and helpless
when my stage continues to grow
and my crowd fights it out amongst themselves
this mantle is silent but near implosion
with albums of fear and hatred and ignorance
weighing down on the chance for sustainment
but bricks are strong
and though the weight is mighty
it keeps me afloat somehow
my worries only feelings
those rancid add-ons to our faulty line

Copyright L.M. 2007.