Once dreamy, butter-filled suncups,
Shining ‘neath the moonlight.
Past shadows shimmer on pond of
Evening Primrose midnight.
Spineless spirits, angel’s trumpets,
Kept as outliers, aloft.
Once shady blow - paired sleeping rocks
Covered with lamb’s ears, soft.
Dark and lightness ravish garden.
Sweet scent rediscovers
The sway of grass on little path;
Reprints of fresh lovers.
If only she’d whispered warning;
“Enter moon gate,” was said.
White creeping phlox - she’s as white as
Sole touch of garden bed.
Categories:
outliers, garden,
Form: Rhyme
In Spring there’s friendship that’s lasted through the Winter,
all those cold nights of salted drops and quilts of snow.
The obsidian plague of midnights, melancholic drapes,
but all the while the candlelight of friendship did glow.
you’d think she’s the sun -
i wax and wane in restraints
having lost my way
The flickering of her tongue as she wet our weep with wine.
O how the shadows flickered on the walls as if in mirth.
The slow burn lasted as the wind howled, the chimney choked.
Her wrinkled, waxy skin, a kin to suffering and pain.
each deep etched line spoke
a sticky web of knowing
lips barely moving
That Spring, she showed up with an armful of daffodils,
and silliness, tears stinging her neck, this honeybee.
She understood madness, and the brumal sun. Outliers
could not drink our elixir nor interlope upon our phoenix rising.
cascade of the moon
no longer afraid of dark -
white lacy curtains
Categories:
outliers, friend, grief,
Form: Haibun
Hateful as they may be, to the eye
and ear, the elimination of words,
statues, ideas, etc., will do nothing
toward making a venom free society –
to flood with light, explaining,
though far more difficult,
more laborious (seemingly impossible
at times) is the only palatable good.
A great, natural builder, artist,
builds his (his/hers – God I hate this,
Politically Correct) foundation using
those odd, irregular stones as well as the
seeming, symmetrically perfect –
variations, outliers are a blessing,
and not a Cosmic Blemish –
the fault, if any to be laid, is when using
ourselves, needlessly, hurtfully -- making
arrow-heads of the pen's of Valentines...
Taking free-thought away from children
will only do away with individuality,
leaving soulless shells instead --
not cleansed human beings, ready for
fresh priming; but globs of rancid, detergent
filled sponges -- the soppy, dead remains,
of what were once, thriving, healthy, alive
brains...
gone any true worthfulness, and sense
of sacred being....
Categories:
outliers, abuse, child abuse, children,
Form: Prose Poetry
parading in the outliers of my mind
unkind rumors told about me
because of my family
haunting my nights
when I used to cry myself to sleep
because I was them and they were me
my third-grade teacher gave me this advice
when they get to know you, they will know
you are not your family, or their past.
Be you and true.
Sad and blue is for others.
Live your real until they understand
So, I grew to be me
Moved away
had a fresh start
People who knew me for me
not me for what others had said or done
it is refreshing to get a new start.
I am rejuvenated
I am refreshed.
I am me!
Categories:
outliers, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Free verse
Identical twins. Never having a name.
Referred to as the Tone Twins. Hey, Twins! Twinsie.
Assumed to be one person for the first eighteen years.
Until one could get away, leaving fast, chased by the other.
Twin A is independent, likes being alone, seeks solitude.
Her identical-looking sister draws a crowd, likes attention.
Twin A is a creator, forming poems, cartoons, and artistic works.
Her identical-looking sister believes these outliers are nonsense.
Twin A is a reader, especially likes non-fiction,
biographies, and history.
Her identical-looking sister has not picked up a book for fifty-years.
Twin A has sought her own identity her entire life, distancing herself.
Twin B, still wants to dress alike, thank you very much,
still seeking attention.
Twin A is steadily reminding herself she has escaped,
she can stop running now.
Twin B is begging her to come to her church
and wear identical outfits; but Twin A loathes church.
Twin A enjoys her flowers, her vegetables, and her life.
As does Twin B, who continues to hope they are exactly alike.
Categories:
outliers, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Lyric
frozen outliers
snow mounds refusing to leave
welcome daffodils
I smile at their brazenness
And they smirk back at my grin
Categories:
outliers, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Tanka
Where the earth,
either scorched or drowned,
meets the fire of war
or the floods of indifference,
where the sky,
once pristine, now flight-scarred,
meets the trawlers and the oil rigs
on the dying sea,
and the righteousness
that you wore as an amulet
became a millstone
that you could not bear.
Where the industrial heartlands,
robust and cruel,
run feverishly to or from the inner cities,
painful, seething and morose,
where the last suburban outliers,
fading and sanctimonious,
meet the first agricultural small-holdings,
desperate, stoic and resilient,
and you happened upon wealth
too bountiful to be shared,
but mostly succumbed
to the will of the mightier few.
There waits The Serpent,
there waits the heel of The Chosen One,
there waits the reckoning
that no malevolence can escape,
buried so deep within you
that they can never be seen or found.
28th December 2018
Categories:
outliers, truth,
Form: Free verse
The young and the older,
the outliers fevered and deranged,
found momentary peace
but could not hide
from the tempest of demons loathed.
Closer to the edge
now closer the edge.
The women and the children,
the soldiers wounded and maimed,
found momentary shelter
but could not hide
from the wrath of their ruler scorned.
Closer to the blade
now closer the blade.
Yards underfoot conceded,
miles of oblivion on the march,
outer wars witnessed,
inner wars, no quieter, quietly denied,
die, or go mad and die.
18th November 2018
Categories:
outliers, abuse, conflict, depression, mental
Form: Free verse
I bite my nails to keep
order, to keep them in line
I chew my fingers-
feast on the small
shreds of flesh to keep
them groomed-we don’t want
any outliers or any heads
poking out of the crowd-
it doesn’t look good.
That’s how they should be-
bloody disfigured and
inconsistent nails with
the bacteria from the dirt
and germs
going into my mouth.
I create
scabs
and
hangnails
and
shreds.
Categories:
outliers, caregiving, symbolism,
Form: Free verse