POETS FOR JULY 2006:
A celebration of poetry written by members and friends of the MuseItUp
Club. Submissions are invited for this page.*
“Beware of him, momma warns.
Don’t like the way he stares;
Don’t like his looks.
He lives in a trailer by himself.
Walk far away from him and his dark trailer.”
The girl cries silently. She wants to
say “Mr. Old Neighbor is not the one to fear.
The one to fear is not on the outside;
he is right here, on the inside.
The one I fear sleeps with you every night.”
The girl doesn’t speak. She doesn’t break
her momma’s heart. Or expose her shame.
She protects with silence.
But silence is never content. Silence lurks in
the shadows, killing trust and wounding spirits.
© Sharon Landis
I Saw the Flame-burnished
Translucent red where the sun shone through
Soaring over me, adrift upon the sea
A bit of jetsam on the dazzling waves of blue
And the wings of flame threw a shadow
To shield my parched skin from the killing sun
Promising me another paradise
Where unfettered paeans are sung
I release myself and rise with the flame-bird
The span of my feathered wings grows wide
Don’t look at the bobbing shell upon the water
Rejoice and embrace the universe inside
© Kathleen Bullock
I’ve just bought a blow-up doll
And I can tell you why:
Because with an inflatable man
You never have to try.
He smiles at you in your nightie,
He smiles at you in the nude,
He doesn’t notice cellulite,
Or think holey undies rude.
He loves all of your cooking,
And when you play guitar,
He doesn’t cover up his ears,
He accepts you as you are.
He only cost 100 quid
I think that that’s a steal.
Imagine how much a man would cost-
Not a boy toy, one that’s real.
But there is one tiny matter,
I feel that I should state-
He only lacks in one respect
To make a perfect mate. So…
I want batteries with my toy boy
And inflate his pecs real hard,
Then make him take the garbage out
And tidy up the yard!
©2004 Susan Stephenson
A Work Of Heart
My soul beholds a miracle,
Simplicity so rare;
a pristine, exquisite work of heart,
with beauty beyond compare.
heart is touched with tenderness,
from the look there in your eyes,
for through the window of your soul,
that tenderness lies.
Shining forth so openly,
like a beacon in the dark
Speaking so fluently to my soul,
this work of heart.
Just like the touch of an artist's brush,
with each delicate stroke of his hand
A beauty created
deep there in his soul,
Pours forth from the heart of the man.
Each longing look, each tender touch,
than mere words can impart
Speaking more eloquently to my soul,
In this simple work of heart.
© Alan M. Toback
* Send poetry submissions to firstname.lastname@example.org
Please include the words “Muse Marquee Poetry Submission” in the subject line.