~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The fluorescent hum doesn’t bother her.
Neither does the line winding past aisle three,
the man who taps his foot like a metronome, nor
the mother bouncing a fussy child.
Her hands move gracefully~
meticulously counting pills into amber vials,
smoothing wrinkled labels,
turning each bottle just so
so the instructions face outward.
She knows Mrs. Putzer forgets her reading glasses.
She remembers Mr. Kim’s allergy to penicillin
even though he hasn’t mentioned it in years.
When the young man with trembling hands
asks, again, about his dosage,
she doesn’t glance at the clock.
She unfolds the leaflet slowly,
points to the bolded text,
says take your time
like she’s handing him a cup of water
after a long walk.
Some days, the world is a rumpled prescription,
filled with smudged ink,
but Mary is the angel in blue scrubs
behind the prescription counter
*You may this poem’s companion story here on Poetry Soup as follows:
poetrysoup.com/short_stories/an_angel_in_blue_scrubs_13589
Beyond a small stream’s margin lay we two
beneath a giant oak which spread sweet shade.
We barely knew what next we ought to do
there, pleasure-sated from the love we’d made
within deep foilage like a carpet lush.
The grass, which from the bank seemed to unroll
with wealth of buttercups and trim of brush
continued past us, up a gentle knoll.
Wrapped in one another’s arms, we pondered
how the rill, once sprightly, now seemed subdued,
and how it once had rippled as it wandered
toward this sheltered spot of solitude.
Our brook, which kissed each boulder on its way,
in vacant time – with us – now sparkling lay.
(a haiku and a monoku formed from using the bolded words in this sonnet)
grass seemed to unroll
beyond a small stream’s margin . . .
wealth of buttercups
our sprightly brook - which had kissed each boulder on its way - now sparklng lay
I used to sing sweet tunes unto you my dear ,
I used to blaze my very best lines ,
With joy favouring our bolded hearts ,
And yet the dark cloud fell unexpectly .
Seen is on flee
It's your words against mine ,
Pride is before our eyes,
And slowly we are becoming the enemies of love .
Gone are those days ,
When i used to you call mine ,
In return you would pour me smiles .
Gone are those minutes i used to wear cloud nine ,
And you would call me a lucky charm .
There i recall ,sank our ship of romance because of pride
that wiped our love like mice at the centre of nile .
THE RUNWAY
A sea of cars
Riding on my back
Abroad, intensified with speedy tires
Lubricant, passengers of thought
Bolded signs of ‘U’ turn
Too shabby to understand
On a straight road with
No roundabout
Only then, stirring to the wheels
Into a burning bush of no flames
Dumped in the garage of animal homes
Eat me up, if that will help
OPEN THE SACRED BOOK OF LOVE AND ENTER INTO THAT SACRED SPACE WHERE ALL IS POSSIBLE WITH MERCY AND COMPASSION. TAKE IN THE BEAUTY THAT
GOD CREATED , TOUCH IT WITH KIND AND REMIND YOURSELF THAT YOU WERE THE REASON HE CREATED THE LAND AND THE WATERS.
EVERY CREATURE ON EARTH IS HERE FOR ONE PURPOSE TO SERVE AND BE SERVED. JUST LIKE THE BIRDS SERVE US THEIR SONG,THE ROSE SERVES US HER BEAUTY AND WE SERVE THE WORLD OUR QUOTA OF LOVE AND GOODNESS, WITH FAITH AND HOPE. (BREATHE)
TURN TO THE PAGE THAT IS MARKED FOR YOU, BENT IN THE RIGHT PLACE, AND BOLDED FOR YOUR EYES TO SEE "LOVE THY NEIGHBOR AS THYSELF "
LET THE SUN WRAP YOU IN ITS WARMTH AND MAKE YOU WHOLE AGAIN.
TURN TO YOUR EARTHLY FAMILY AND JOIN HANDS IN BONDAGE AND FRIENDSHIP. SHARE YOUR FAITH WITH THOSE THAT HAVE LOST HOPE,
BRING ABUNDANCE TO THIS WORLD THROUGH YOUR SMILE AND CARING WAYS. (BREATHE)
SONG YOUR SONG AND LIVE YOUR LIFE OPEN HEARTED AND TRUE TO
YOURSELF AND OTHERS. LEAVE NO ROOM FOR ANGER OR RESENTMENT.
PUT YOUR GENTLE HANDS TO WORK THROUGH GOOD ACTION AND PURPOSE.
OPEN THE SACRED BOOK AND READ THE GOOD STORY. IT HAS BEEN WRITTEN FOR YOU BY THE MASTER HAND.
LOVE AND LIGHT, NAMASTE !
MASQUERADE BALL MACABRE
clash of swords and ebony bones,
this masquerade ball quickens her pulse.
her mask’s sutured to her face.
panic embraces her opaque eyes.
silver flashes, like lightening bolts, to win her hand.
spectres did hypnotize her, thus paralyzed and
abandoned to this land of obscurity.
she reaches out to plead, in a grave moment of despair.
her white gown gutted, spills crimson from her limb.
Esmeralda remains aloof for the juncture of the clash.
head throbs from the sound of shrieking bones.
likewise, the wound pounds, as her heart sinks further south,
into oblivion, building a veneer of defiance towards eventual death.
pitch black horror and melting wax of a ghostly moon devours,
what’s left of her innocence. Her silent screams grow ever stronger.
the clash of swords and ebony bones have gone quiet.
5/28/2017
Use 10 bolded words
Max of 16 lines
Free Verse
Deep Dark Beautiful
The comic book in front page cover.
Glossy for it's wonder.
All interest in it's characters
of glory and their thunder.
A comic book to split apart
in seam for pair of staples.
The paper's pulp been harvested
from several standing Maples.
An ink in print to bolded text
you'd sniff for fresher air.
The meaning of a delicate page
you flip through for it's ware.
A story told to light the senses
in visions from another.
A book so thin it simplifies;
there is no any other.
in the mist of proposal rivers of recovered water.
the master of them all existing Aquarians appeared,
all went mixed.
the muscles of this bolded river dilated,
fear raged on the small hearted creatures,
trafficking of disposals added heterogeneously,
power of the enemies increased with regards to their smiles,
dreams seemed to ride off the coats,
waters flowed with no limited acceleration,
wonders became the topic of the mind,
nerves expanded and pain slides went on,
voices boxes failed to hold that heavy load and all went out.
all eyes where on the victim but none desired to assist.
it was all in these river with breath of the daily life,
a small river created together with its twin sister.
why would they recognize it because it is bushed with loneliness,
all it has its a dark shadow seen by no one,
even its body turned to be visible to the blinded.
how easy can it be for the good sighted to spot for they are too busy in the counters of their own self-makeup
oh thou river hold on
its a fact that every start has a stop point
The hot summer,
Failed rain for months,
The land cracked,
Trees like bolded heads after falling leaves,
Birds fallen broken wings,
Waiting animals to die,
Today or tomorrow,
Children drank their cry,
Looking at the disappointed sky,mothers,
The village was not in the usual noise but like a land of dumbs,
A saint took all village men to an open ground,
To pray God seeking rain,
Some birds and animals to follow,
The son of the saint too walked along,
All marched like soldiers to the battle field,
"I had forgotten to bring my umbrella",
The son said to his father,saint,
The saint shocked but walked fast ignoring son,
All prayed God seeking rain,
It rained,rained and rained soon,
"It rained not because of the saint but his son who trusted God",
Someone came in someone's dream and told!
There once was a wife who scolded
All her notes to her hubby were bolded
He weathered her nagginess
Owned his inner fagginess
Worked out fine. Is that too cold, Ed?
Go now, turn the photo albums pages.
You often smile at happy memories.
Let the images rekindle the stages,
Never lost, love..within my heart's reverie.
Would that we could return to bygone days.
I would do anything to turn that page.
Love know, my thoughts of us set nights ablaze.
Past passion, left my broken heart engaged.
The years are long, and still, the pages turn.
Relive those brighter memories and come.
Could the ever after be, oh I yearn ..
We each can see the love in our album.
Only you, it is yours, my broken heart,
If you wish a Valentine take the dart.
*Key to message: Read the bolded first words
of each line from the bottom up.
If only We Could Relive The Past Love, I Would Never Let You Go
Date: 1/20/13
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