Book of Words

Posted September 8, 2017 by ManicDdaily
Categories: poetry, Uncategorized

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Book of Words

Mimi cry
cause Testa meant
no good–
oh he would rap sure,
so cool he set her hair a-tic (not just heart)
but if Mimi tried
for her own part,
he slagged her as a Me-imitator,
person-
impersonator,
said he’d terminate her
if she didn’t goddamn
shut up,
and so she shut,
but for the cry.

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Kind of a strange ditty for Mama Zen’s prompt on Real Toads to use words from a wonderful book of words put together by her daughter–I’ve cheated here I believe, using my own versions of same.  Drawing is mine, all rights reserved.

More Cheerful Face Tree

Posted September 4, 2017 by ManicDdaily
Categories: Uncategorized

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Charcoal on paper, 2017, all rights reserved.

Worried Face Tree

Posted September 4, 2017 by ManicDdaily
Categories: Uncategorized

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Charcoal on paper, 2017, all rights reserved.

Grateful

Posted September 3, 2017 by ManicDdaily
Categories: poetry

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Grateful

She woke between pained breaths and said,
“they’ve all
crossed over.”

So, after soothing her shock
of white bang back,
we hurried to measure
the morphine,
pretty sure she would not try to get up
like she did the day before, anxious
to meet them,
but not certain,

“sweetheart,” saying, as we nosed the syringe into
the inside of the downward-tilted
cheek, then smoothed squeezed balm
over desert lips, “sweetheart,”
caressing back
that shock of hair again

until I lay down beside her at last
to listen to the full
and hollow,
not breathing myself
in some of the pauses.

So a good death goes,
and comes,
oh sweetheart.

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Poem for my mother. 

Long Worn Bird Mask

Posted August 25, 2017 by ManicDdaily
Categories: drawings

Charcoal on paper, 2017, all rights reserved.
Other titles– “Help maybe.”

What Does It Want?

Posted August 22, 2017 by ManicDdaily
Categories: poetry, Uncategorized

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What does it want?

There is a part of me that can’t shake
sadness;
that hears the rise of the mourning dove
as fall;
that substitutes for throat
but will not be slaked–

What does it want– this ache?

For everything that’s been
to have been
all right.

To lay down upon a lap
as if it were a head
that might be stroked.

To not be a head
that is thinking, thinking,
but a body of that water
that laps gently
and doesn’t churn.

And to have you, my sometimes world,
hold me 
in earthen arms.

In the reeds that grow about us,
red-winged blackbirds nest;
just above, swallows swallow.

 

 

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Poem for open link platform on Real Toads (http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com)

Drawing is mine.  It’s a bit more complicated than I’d like, ha.

Simply the way it was (Eclipse of sorts)

Posted August 20, 2017 by ManicDdaily
Categories: poetry, Uncategorized

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Simply the way it was (Eclipse of sorts)

At a certain point, she even felt the trees longing
to hold the child she carried,
the sky scrying to espy
the color of his eyes;
all of Nature, she felt sure,
yearned with her
to meet him,
though after he was born,
she kept him close as bark
for some time, letting not wind nor glare make
their acquaintance, any leaving
out of the question,
and whether Nature was peeved
was too complicated a thing
for her to think about, there with the new son
at her side.

 

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For a prompt by the wonderful Kerry O’ Connor on Real Toads to write about a simple  thing.  I should note that this poem is imagined–not meant to express anything about boy or girl babies–I’ve only been thinking about the sun a bit what with the eclipse.

Drawing is mine–pastels and charcoal on paper, 2017.  All rights reserved.