Jill Spagnola Poet Haibun

Last Call

Last Call
	
	This is where I feel at ease. Senses heightened subtly by the mixture of light and darkness. The night time lights; bar lights, street lamps, flashing fluorescent advertisements, candle light, moon light; nights are illuminated with versatility, glow sticks ever growing, ever changing the scenery.  The street lamps reflect in a puddle near the sidewalk.  Fleeting fluorescents pronounce the beauty of eclecticism.  Candlelight surpassed only by the light of moon’s romance
					
                                                                for whom do I emanate
					                        light and dark mingle	
					                        perceptions change according

	Reflecting back, I had no hips when I began my career. They were not necessary for my clients.  I beheld the warmth and beauty, starving for positive attention, and pleasing another, after family imprisonment had me chained down and kicked for so long.  (A flower for just a greeting, I had found my calling).   After thirty-three years in my lucrative, business, I have blossomed into the shape of an hourglass, with the wisdom and class that come naturally with study for my service.  I have a few fledglings of my own, able to sway their hips and converse interestingly with the painted lips of their chosen trade.  They will flourish alongside me, if they take my hard, learned lessons as gospel.
					
                                                                 youth is coveted by most
					                         stay fit or lose ground
					                         keep current and set high goals

	As luck would have it daddy broke naught my spirit, nor my bones, but did a job on my secret parts, sacred and hidden from others.  Wait!  What is this I understand?  I may work and emancipate myself!  Be freed of my family’s corrupt prison of Ugly.  I earned my papers at sixteen with family applause.  Scapegoats gone, time to more than survive….but thrive.  Yes, freedom is a state of mind, yet one’s mind holds only so much tenacity.

					                       supreme Judge is not human
					                       proper escorts, charm
					                       and will never hear, last call



						Sunshine Williams

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CayCay Godwin November 13, 2015 at 4:12 PM As glass is blown to beauty by fire's painful heat, so to was this person brought to their perfection. I am confused by: Sunshine Williams?? I applaud this write ... CayCay Jill Spagnola November 13, 2015 at 4:40 PM Thank you for looking me up and lifting me up! Sunshine Williams is the baby girl me and my late husband have not met yet. Well I hope that he has, it's just not my time yet. It makes me feel that I confirm her existence with each poem I write. My name is Jill and it is my pleasure CayCay....:)

Eric Boddie October 22, 2015 at 6:39 PM if you throw it in the air it will turn to sunshine....that's what happened to these words before these eyes of mine....this is so profound, so strong....but I see that the pain put you exactly where you belong....very inspiring jill....;) Jill Spagnola November 13, 2015 at 5:06 PM Eric, I bet you can't keep yourself from rhyming in your sleep:)!!! Thank you so very much for continued, eloquent raps of encouragement....:) with love, jill

Emile Pinet October 15, 2015 at 10:46 AM This is a deep piece and it struggles with feelings of helplessness and the message sent is strong and emotional. Your words gently take the reader to your private place where sanity can drift and unravel. Emile. Jill Spagnola November 13, 2015 at 5:13 PM Thank you Emile! Of course some of my writing is based on my life's experiences thus far, your consistently, kind and unique comments, let me know you get me. Since you are a minority in my world, your words are golden to me...:), jill