Yet more for[ profile] 64weichi 

Fabric of a Relationship
Repacking her bags
she noticed a scrap,
the past in a piece of cloth.
She tucked in her pocket,
the remains of her passion.

Out of the Blue
He called me early
so I wouldn’t spend the night
upset over him.

More poetry for [ profile] 64weichi 

The Kiln

Re-crafting from ash
a lifetime of art.
Pottery crushed in embers.

It’s Inevitable

I knew I would leave
even at our height
but I never knew how soon.
As I start anew I know
still not your fault.
Never was.

Falling to Grace

All but love lost
and when you wake
everything has changed.

A Poem

Aug. 1st, 2010 11:16 pm
For [ profile] 64weichi , who requested poems on starting over and "things along those lines."

Late or Early

Long night winding down,
time to leave came long ago.
Sun still not rising.
I should have known better than to go out with the sky looking like it did, all gray and skuzzy, threatening or promising a downpour at any minute. I don’t like driving in any weather, much less in a deluge, but I hadn’t eaten all day and I figured I might as well go get dinner before the storm hit.

I’m late a lot, I should mention.

The first grumble of thunder rolled down from the sky just as I pulled in to the parking lot. By the time I’d gotten what I needed and ran, the rain had started to come down like fucking meteors. I made the, perhaps unwise, decision to wait in my car until the clouds closed back up again, but the wind and the rain, together, just kept coming harder and I figured I’d sit there forever, if I didn’t hurry up and just go.

If deciding to hang out in my car while the little rainstorm around me worked itself to a tempest wasn’t the smartest thing I could’ve done, leaving at just that moment might just qualify for the title. The wipers on my piddly little Taurus could barely keep up with the violet onslaught and I’m surprised I didn’t wreak. I spent the whole time gripping the wheel like I thought it wanted to escape. Afraid that I would run headlong into someone equally blinded by the storm, I clung to the roadside, occasionally slipping my passenger-side wheels into the already-flooded gutters, sending up great gouts of rainwater.

I got home in one piece, if only just, and parked my car as the far end of the lot. I opened the door for maybe two seconds before I had to slam it closed, again. The rain had started coming down, if anything, harder than before. The lot had flooded just enough that I dreaded walking through it so I again decided to wait it out and see if conditions improved.

I didn’t hear the tornado sirens right away, in part because they don’t have the same rising and falling cadence as the ones I’m used to at home. In fact, they sounded a lot like the howling wind that accompanied this storm. When my nerve-wracked brain finally put two and two together, I leapt out the car so fast I’m surprised I didn’t sprain something. Soaked to the knee, I ran to the nearest building, until the sirens stopped blaring.

I needn’t have worried-the tornado would have hit another part of town, if indeed it had hit at all. I’m hearing now that no one actually spotted a funnel cloud. That’s comforting, certainly, if a great deal less exciting.
[info]simplelyric 's last poems for the [info]help_haiti auction.  Hope you've enjoyed.

Midnight black serpents
slink across her porcelain skin,
like streams in deep night.

Children born in flame
as golden spirits descend
gracing autumn’s old plain.

Spring whispers to me
in winter’s thickest storms
of tulips and sun.

Flowers beckon light,
call forth summer’s heat,
minute suns beaten from warmth.

Early Days
Play, pup in the field.
Run with me here in the light
before the sun flees.
I are propublished author, nao, I think. BRB, freaking the fuck out.

(First name's my real one-Gloria's a pen name, I think I've mentioned before-last name, not so much)
Written for the help_haiti auction, specifically for[ profile] simplelyric, five more coming soon.

Kansas Fog
Freezing pearl-hued mist,
can just tell it’s snowing.
The ground slick with ice,
like walking on a window,
too delicate to remain.

Untilled Ground
Golden grass below,
from here it looks so pristine.
Horses running through
catch burs in their hides and know
the price for blazing unknown trails.

After the storm come
miles-long herds of antelope,
placidly grazing
on the roadside while our cars pass,
they oblivious to danger.

Minimalist Gardening
The dawn wakes with us.
Air smells like jasmine green tea,
iris-the culprit.
Neighbors tear them out today,
replacing them with nothing.

Small Blessings
White flurries of rage
strengthen the screaming wind storm,
building up against my door.
Ice-hills keep me trapped inside.
Thank God for the fireplace.


Jan. 13th, 2010 10:10 pm
Oh, look, another auction!

If you're interested, go bid, offer, donate, whatever.
I definitely won't have time for NaNo this year.



August 2010

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