Yellow yield light
Don't blink -- you'll miss it
Faded boarded churches
Faith for sale
Billboard salvation on the side of the road
Red traffic light
Pink clapboard House
Speed down to twenty
Bump over the tracks
Blind crest ahead
I blinked
Driving down the road
Off ramp ahead
Small town lights
Flicker; the false promise
Something more than
A closing down factory floor
Old Churches for sale
Dressed in flags of white and red
Night sky above
Blind curve ahead
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dust swirls, tiny ghosts,
Granny’s trunk spills mothball dreams~
Lace yellowed with time,
A pressed violet remembers
her laughter climbing the stairs.
The elephant packed his trunk
ere leaving home with a load
and looked down his nose before crossing
to see what's on the other side of the road
as the tumbler pigeon
be it ever-so humble
when airborne
was compelled to tumble
and the spinner dolphin
without a care
continued to spin
while in the air
yet not one of them did such antics
to amaze amuse or impress man
but only and simply...
because they can
the trunk of my car hides things I do not remember owning
sixteen Christmas presents that probably did not get delivered
because this is mid-May and Christmas is in December or January
three or four sweatshirts I diligently searched for in February
but did not find until today
notebook paper pages have been torn into bitty bits by mice
I am glad they enjoyed trunk of my car this winter
It is weird the rodents did not nestle in my scarves and hats
knitted in soft yarns in blues and whites
I sort out my car trunk for twenty-six and a half minutes
It seemed like two days of dull boring sorting
I resolve to sort the rest of it in the next year or so
All I needed was space for my suitcase.
cottonwood tree trunk
sparkles with silver sequins
a gorgeous array
is an elephant's trunk a nose or a hand?
Wanting to find out I traveled to Africa land.
One of the elephants used his trunk to wave at me.
Saw another wipe his trunk against his sleeve.
Female utilized her trunk to take a river drink.
Now I am consternated, do not know what to think.
There is a loo in south Baku
Where local dogs wait in a queue
They all go Dutch
Yet drink too much
They can’t resist a homemade brew.
----------------------------------------
It stood there, the trunk
oddly on its end;
dust lay testament
to its untouched years
of keeping the past.
The lid, now a door,
which, should it open,
would spill out secrets.
No need to dig deep,
rummage, discover;
stuff would come tumbling;
the unstoppable
detritus of life,
no longer hidden.
Remembered the 1940s, the season of the holocaust.
Six million irons, disjointed from their ores
Were forged in bottomless pits of anvils.
The swarming bees in a ceremonious buzzing
Were uncoupled from their hives through Reichsbahn.
However, a tensed, stale wind of discord swivel
On the creeks of Dachau, Auschwitz, Treblinka
And other shores of darkness.
Never shall the bloody sky efface again
The innocent faces of seedlings in chains
Suddenly transformed into smoke under a silent sky.
For not four thousand micrographic scrolls
Of antique Pharaoh, hieroglyphics could symbolize
The petrifying carrions glutted by black vultures.
Two rivers parted by mountainous fiend
In no time of twilight
Laid eyes into the seas.
Two branches glued to tree trunks
Would in a bit of an eyelid
See those white balloons.
The mockingbird is set among the pigeons
And doors of golden rainbows
Crept in the fog.
Everywhere, the white dove’s skull
Is at the bottom of the picture
While the frogs and wasps play their lyres.
But, the wild hyacinths grew among Linden
The lion; among hummingbirds
With every twist, Lynx's eyes.
The old lady down the street has passed
and left no one they could call around;
except her old cat she called Miss Sass
It will take looking before she's found.
Her friend decided on a yard sale.
Mostly junk will be all we will find:
a worn garden spade and battered pail
remnants of flower beds left behind.
A crocheted doily on arms of chair,
placed in front of an ancient TV.
With Bible on table, she took care
as she read, to have a cup of tea.
They found a small trunk just loosely bound
that contained a locket of fine gold.
and a photo that when it was found,
showed three little girls midst bits of mold.
She had three daughters, she had once said,
but they would not visit anymore.
They must not have cared; can't all be dead!
then they found the trunk's wee secret door.
There, a large diamond ring brightly shone
They decided, as they locked the trunk:
Sell, give money to those all alone.
If her girls call, say it was all junk!
March 5, 2023
for Writing Challenge--J Words
by Constance La France
Inside our secret trunk
between lost and found
the longing for childhood!
I try to walk very gently through a field filled with wildflowers
Not crushing them under my feet takes a short walk many hours
On hot days I flap my ears over them to give out a slight breeze
If not for me they would dry up for this field doesn’t have trees
Lots of bees and butterflies continually dance around my head
Getting stung or one flying up my trunk is a thing I daily dread
I am blessed with having such freedom and plenty of space to roam
Concrete floors and iron bars is sadly what some elephants call home
Author Eileen Clark
very early right after I lost everything
that day was born with me scared in the woods
refuge of one who has forgotten the padded way
of his own sanity
feeling cold without sun rays or comforting thoughts
the menacing shadows freeze your soul
every sound is a monster that comes to get you
the falls wounded legs and arms
the back in pain is nothing
when the hunger erupts absurd
on the chaotic horizon of your needs
I fell to the damp ground were dead leaves rot
centennial elm sap flows and writes in its crimp trunk:
"Calm down because you are in your home
you can assume a fetal position and cry alone"
the anthill right there was teeming with life
the ants near my mouth I ate
while the others I chased with my eyes
maybe spend the rest of the worlds here
turning me into an old trunk
in the carcass of a wild animal
in fact I am and we are backbones
I am and we are in our deserved place
I think I lost it...
Has anyone seen my mind?
Must of wandered off...
I'll check lost and found
The last time I lost my mind
It played hide and seek
I last found my mind
Hold up in an old Junk Trunk
Sorting memories...
A box of clutter
Relics that remain after
We've faded away...
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