Blizzard is coming
Hailstorm is drumming
How we longed to be wetter.
We’ve been in a drought
We prayed the calm out
Now comes turbulent weather.
Batten the hatches
Prepare the caches
White rage threatens our safety.
Will eating snow bursts
Appease our mad thirst?
Freezing adds to the crazy.
Present Unwrapped
Plan for tomorrow
live for today
the moment redeeming
future caches
Say what you mean
do what you say
the circle enclosing
— truth on display
(Dreamsleep: February, 2024)
Palace Rules
No worse enemy
than an ex-friend
No better friend
— than an enemy turned
(Dreamsleep: February, 2024)
Empty Promises
Caring not much
for what I haven’t seen
Deaf to those voices
still trapped in between
Caring not much
for what I haven’t been
Each promise stays empty
— not kept from within
(Dreamsleep: February, 2024)
White Buffalo
Can you …
Know
without thinking
Win
without beating
See
without judging
Cry
without pain
Speak
without stricture
Come
without staying
Wish
without hoping
Share
without claim
Hear
without language
Curse
without malice
Hunt
without preying
Rule
without reign
Fly
without plumage
Dance
without music
Love
without taking
Die
— without shame
(Dreamsleep: February, 2024)
Hindsight is foresight's foe
Heralding woe betides
Halting the hoodwinking
Haunting the present tense
Hanging regrets in caches
Hype, hope dashed by failures
Holding you back, abjure!
Kiss by the Passing Breeze of Awakening
Dust of divine whimsy
Flutters softly on unconscious cheeks
With ephemeral dawning
Fleeting like the flash of silver sandals
In moonlight - here then hidden -
Stepping out of the opaque
Soul stirring from oblivious daydreams
Stepping into moments of classical
Lavender-rose moments.
The leaven of breezes in stardust essence
Flares in lambent clarity
Caches of chimera, that drain the heartbeat,
Shrivel in bursts of cheeky shooting stars.
Aroused from the depths of sleepwalking,
Grace notes float on rose scents
Harvested in potpourris for strangled screams
Scrambling through midnight fogs,
Sentience revisits in soft swirls
Awareness, roused by reveille,
Stirs caressed codas in soft preludes,
Awakes in fresh mindful raptures
Nurtured by a passing angel kiss.
If done the shackles, fated to be,
If dusted the fates, bound to thee,
Past them, gleaned, prayers to see,
If downed, glorious, of the, fleeing me,
If pained, glamorous, with the hand plea,
And if gleeful, generous, to up and agree,
That if dated to be the fates, be it and free,
Self from creases and folds of the world as is.
If minding, the spirit of the blinds, then,
Slowly surging, the viciousness from them,
If shaken by the surge, the energy from men,
Stricken down to a point zero, if timed again,
To the core, if goggled and gazed at, till when,
Up and home, and finding strength in them gone,
And scripted, as morals of a fallen angel, divine.
If shrugged, the sanity, severed in the winds,
Find truce, safest in the sacred caches within,
If foregoing, settled, and forfeited the destined,
Find peace, truest to ties and as heavenly ordained.
#August_2022
Spring Mischief
Lusty sunbeams twirl in tangos
Gusty clouds in wild fandangos
Rowdy windstorms dip and glide
Dowdy mornings step aside
Cloudy caches swing and sway
Dowdy drizzles sent far away
The sharp air softens then sings
A wink, a smile – mischief of spring.
4-29-22
Contest: Spring Rhyme 8-12 Lines
Sponsor: Tania Kitchen
Lovely softness in days of pure sunshine.
Kind inner beauty delicate and fine.
She lit up the garden and gave it hope.
Perky sunflower on a little slope.
Farmer smiles doing his daily chores
Just left the missus who is washing floors.
God’s morning creatures wallow in the grasses,
Rubbing in the dew, natural caches.
There is now a glimpse of a foxtail.
Roosters crowing. Calf gives out a wail.
Ma calls Pa in for biscuits and gravy.
Livestock all fed, and happy as can be.
Life in the country with cows and a horse.
Is the only kind of living, of course.
Gremlins live in my house and we are fine with it most days
They bring cheer and joy to us in subtle elfish ways.
They are well hidden in woodwork crevices and caches.
But sometimes they get too mischievous and move our glasses
Which bothers me little since I have forty pair.
They seem to disappear every other Tuesday in thin air.
Mine are polka dot and flowered and from the dollar store.
Also striped, leopard and plaid, diverse colors galore.
My husband thinks the gremlins are totally unfair,
His glasses, prescription, cost much more than my forty pair.
Hear that giggling coming from the air vent in the hall?
They are my darling sneaky fun-loving gremlins small.
First day on the job,
you took an oath to only tell lies
Had to sign a non-disclosure agreement,
before you got the Company suit-and-tie
You're CIA now,
sworn to secrecy
You're in the world of espionage,
living a 007 reality
Illegal arms dealers,
Mata Hari babes
Foreign rogue generals,
dark net cyber caches
Toss in a few drug cartels,
and everybody's getting paid
Everybody's getting spied on too,
electronic whispers homemade
You love your job,
truth be told, yet only under oath
But you dislike the party politics of it all,
though you like the sound
of hearing corrupt governments fall
You're CIA bred,
sworn to secrecy
You're in a world of covert spies,
living a James Bond reality
Illicit black market trade,
femme fatale operatives
Pandemic pathogens made,
secret outlawed experiments
Toss in a few psychotic terrorists,
and everybody's getting death video feed
Everybody's getting propaganda-ed too,
hacked disinformation makes liberty bleed
But you didn't reveal this publicly,
because of course,
you're sworn to secrecy
Feels right to wake up fore the sun
Make coffee.
Sit up, not stopping over in a corner
Customarily unaffordable mornings
Trapped against my own wall
The chattering is soothing
When the back drop of the noise box
Has subsided.
My dreams I care not for
The pretty dresses or tap shoes
Just a vulgar display of my worst side
Never the deep sleep caches me
I exclude it, hides around corners
Drifting in and out, between
Awake and terrified.
Gray squirrels-
hide caches 'til winter
memory loss--sniff
©2010 Audrey Carey
Let fingers whisper passion in clashes,
Stroke fire and heat to enrage the flashes,
Each seductive contact with the caches,
As I torture your skin with tongue lashes.
Hyperactive silhouette's of contenders,
Loving probes matching their surrenders,
Wiggling members entertained by plunders,
Feverish minds management blunders?
Secret desires in rhymed wet modes,
Covets thirsty pleasure dripping lodes:
Through the graceful cones of your loud speakers,
Prayers go out to Alla al Akhbar.
And like a flag waving in a prophetic breeze,
You are a blindfolded hostage weeping on your knees.
In your fair root neighborhood of Shudada,
Stryker vehicles crackle past your ancient walls,
As tanks smash through deserted homes.
And the endless stockpiles of artillery shells,
The mortar rounds, rocket-propelled grenades,
Electronics for making bombs, were simply small caches,
Left by nomadic insurgents, cells long slipped away.
But you, sweet holy city of Falluja, you will live on,
For when the foreign snipers on your roofs are gone,
You will live on as the city of mosques, city of graves.
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