Fresh in mind
A lightening bolt in me
But safer, kinder
We slipped off conformity
In triggers of encrypted chemicals
No slap-on labels
No pull to sticky corrections
No show of egos unveiling
Our mismatched skills did not get in the way
We wooed like outfielders catching
Off balance when separated
Ignoring sweet word stumbles
Joyful together,
sharing each other's detours
Our shadows weaved to one another
leaning, like twin towers
till issues snapped at our heels
a re-evaluation
unfortunate contusion
apply another bandaid
de-stabilizing
pressure points
a catered
drift
to others.
Brazen memories -
for the love that precedes the end of love
still stirs.
Poem revised: September 15th. 2020
I stand above home plate, bat tight in hand
The outfielders move in right behind the infield.
The doubt belongs not to me, yet fear teases my mind.
Here comes the pitch...
I hold my breath...
The ball is taking forever to get here...
It's close...
I breathe out as I swing...
Coach screams...
RUN!!!
She steps up to the plate –smiling
The smile that fills you with hatred and embarrassment
When so often it is present.
This is no laughing matter.
The unliked by the team,
But still the needed captain.
The field is watching, waiting.
Bat up, she stances.
Eyes narrow.
The players tense –mechanically.
The pitch from empty space,
Creation of the batter’s mind,
Carefully crafted to tie the game.
The crowd groans.
She swings.
And off goes the game.
She motions to first.
The ball whizzes through the air-
First the infielders –chasing –running –pacing
Staccato across the red.
But they are no match –the ball continues.
She accelerates to second.
The inner-outfielders, the bridge, take over,
As if squeaks and honks can stop it.
They chase, to fill the empty space, but relent.
She crescendos to third.
The far-outfielders, at last,
The most important players of all.
Long, deep strides cover much ground,
But they cannot compare.
The ball is gone.
She made it home.
There is silence in the field.
And the crowd goes wild.
(In 8th grade, I really didn’t care for my band teacher, but loved band.)
blackbirds sqwark.
hungry magpies try their luck
where pigeons coo;
children's voices echo long
on imagination's highway;
leather sounds on willow,
outfielders idly doze
spectators quietly clap ;
and sleepy snores
sounds the days away.
Inspired by Laura's contest
blackbirds sqwark and cluck
hungry magpies try their luck-
fledglings hide,dumbstruck
leather sounds on bat
spectators,politely clap-
outfielders,idly chat
children,outdoors stay
on imagination's freeway-
hours in dreamland,play
pigeons coo like doves
the mistlethrush sings above-
hello,my lady-love
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