Short Sawing Poems

I 
now
know that 
sawing a hole 
into the bottom of
a table to try and steal 
someone’s cake is so much 
harder than it looks in the cartoons...

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Our dog is sawing logs loudly
so many deep groans as she lets off gas
they smell like charcoal emissions
She is getting older, her snores are shaking the house
I wish we could bottle her emissions and run our car on them...

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Love laughs at life,
Scorns the scourging whip of years,
Dulls life’s sawing knife
And watersheds its tears.

Love smiles at death,
Soul withstanding soil,
Heaped upon the flesh whose breath
Expires. Love’s Death’s foil....

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Love laughs at life,
Scorns the scourging whip of years,
Dulls life’s sawing knife
And watersheds its tears.

Love smiles at death,
Soul withstanding soil,
Heaped upon the flesh whose breath
Expires. Love’s Death’s foil....

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We thought we were invincible,

Fearless, there we stood.

But somewhere to the rear

We heard someone sawing wood.

It was over the top for us,

A fight was in the offing.

But not for the carpenters,

They were busy, making coffins....

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The sunroom in the afternoon
I’m on the couch; Missy, the floor.
We both are right competitive
when working on the loudest snore.
Poor Frances has her headphones on;
it’s that or likely lose her mind.
Or so she says, but when I woke,
I heard her sawing logs in kind....

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Those men like calluses put a yellow tape:
"Do not pass!", and start sawing the iron.
And the iron cries.
I stay suspended as a bubble
and tremble. It is time for me to learn the truth:
I know how to fly - or I know how to become a callus 
waiting for those men to build 
some new stairs....

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Right beside me lies my dog
Flight to dreamland, slumbers deep
Quite the racket, sawing logs
Slight, the chance she wakes from sleep

Eyes are closed, at peaceful rest
Sighs at visions yet unguessed
Rising, falling of her chest
Guys, let’s face it: I am blessed
...

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Contemplating an endless while
    I eyed my screen, prepared to smile
  But what I saw filled me with dread
    It made me think I was brain-dead

  Screen was empty as my cupboard's bare
    At which point, out fell my hair
  But then I thought, 'This could be good'
    ~ So I went back to sawing wood...

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I heard them groaning
I heard the chainsaws sawing--
the maples lay dead


_______________________
October 16, 2013


Poetry/Senryu/dead maples
Copyright Protected, ID 10-513-335-16
All Rights Reserved, 2013, Constance La France


For the Standard contest, Senryu, 
sponsor, Black Eyed Susan, Judged 2013

Honorable Mention...

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Boys & Saws

Found a saw – I’ve got to cut
Saw no wood around me but
A wooden pole that I could cut in two
So I grabbed the saw – was sawing
While in my head was gnawing
A thought that said I should have thought this through
My mom would not be happy
And neither would my pappy
If they knew what I was doing this was true
But I am just a kid
And I did what I did
Cause that’s what boys and saws were meant to do

Mdailey	6/2/12...

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Bakit nga ba, sinta, ako’y iniwan mo?
o kay lupit naman ng puso mo, hirang.

Magagawa mo bang limutin ang lahat?
araw na nagdaan sa ating dalawa.

Darating din ang araw ika’y malulumbay,
luha sa iyong mata’y tutulo rin.

Init ng pag-ibig ko ay hahanapin mo,
at maiisip mo ang nawala sa iyo.

Ang buhay kong ito tanging laan sa iyo,
wala bang halaga pag-ibig ko sa iyo?

Sinaktan mo ako, ngayo’y nagdurusa,
ikaw ang dahilan ng sawing kapalaran....

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they live now
in layers of motion and stillness

a fret sawing wind
a chaffing river
have shaped them

limbless bodies
turned upon
a lathe of time

glints of starlight are in them
eyes blinded by too much
of light
or dark

blue veins leach from granite pores
synapse
with bloods tingling clamor
with fingerprints

a molten world
drips green algae
upheavals whisper
from an unending past

a stone thrown back
finding a voice
in an uttering splash...

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We must have wandered too close to the
same thought.

When I mention him
your eyes dip behind a bruised blue haze.

Blood worms buckle a hot sidewalk
in my brain.

For a moment we share the same rage,
a lust for sawing cut-throat words.

The conversation moves on,
but still your hands open and close
like breathless gills,
while I chew over his undead image.

Shadows drift away to fall asleep in a corner,
yet some return
when you sigh and stare at the blank ceiling....

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