It seems that my chances of wearing a gown on the red carpet and being mistaken for a movie star are coming to a close I’ve gone from being just a hair out of place to one lost in hive of Hollywood women stung by bees drunk with honey and swollen with time No one […]
There are no cell phones on Neverland So, Wendy emails Peter to say that she’s joined a 12-step program and is sewing new curtains for the Darling home nursery “Oh, and by the way bring home some milk and bread for dinner Captain Hook is coming over,” Wendy says Peter wants a divorce but can’t […]
The “other woman” is Wendy She’s co-dependent with Peter She’s passive-aggressive with pirates and sleeps with lost boys She threatens to leave Neverland because Peter won’t be her daddy won’t discipline the children or stop seeing Tiger Lily Wendy won’t live in Peter’s shadow She wants to wear it as her own She professes her […]
A sea of snow has washed up on my porch where I’m lounging in the sun like a beach bum on vacation. Should I take the plunge, wade out into it? I might need a boat to reach the other side of the yard. I might see a polar bear. There is no shore in […]
December trees bloom with icy white blossoms Shimmering snowflaked petals drift down Draping the ground in a misty bridal veil Pronouncing the promise of winter’s silent vow
Who rings the bell of poetry and what makes me sing along?
The moon left its thumbprint But pleads its innocence No stars have been stolen No alibi confirmed
Question mark moon Each star is a period in the lyrical miracle of the story eternal
Are poems like autumn leaves forgotten after they fall? Do we only pay attention to the bright red maple and ignore the buried brown? Do we pile them up to burn? How long before they yellow? Is no word immortal? Are they fleeting as thoughts? Transparent as ghosts? What do poems do in the afterlife?
Sun’s gold silver-polished Black Madonna’s holy chalice A ceremonial grail of moon perceived half empty or believed half full
I saw nobody today But the slip of blue tip of salamander tail slithered between porch floor slats I saw nobody But a misplaced butterfly perched on my knee It landed on my foot and tickled I heard nobody today But the wind stirred the deep mountain song of porch chimes and glass chimes called […]
We are all like flowers Cut from the ground we came from We are all looking out From the vases we are held in Named for our family lines by botanists Hoping our petals will be cherished We are all flourishing and fading Giving and taking our seed to the grave ~ Colleen Redman
