I’m not my makeup
yet I draw
like child’s play
a path to find me
under my blood lip twists
and black brow turns
till the sidewalk of me
heaves
and the earth below
rises
as my dark desire
finds its joy
and double dares
the clouds to come.
(From Poetic Bloomings prompt: http://poeticbloomings.com/)
I have blown my share
of tiny bubbles
sending them drifting off
to space,
yet not one of them
with my breath
could live a second more.
So when God
was done mixing up
the heavens and the earth,
I hope his mother
tenderly kissed his head,
and let him lick the spoon.
Edith Ann sat in her oversized rocker
with a room full of toys
that she never played with
and thought great thoughts
about what was true.
And that’s the truth.
She was young but had wisdom
that she gained from seeing the world
alone from her high chair
while other children watched her
and played with their toys.
And that’s the truth.
I have spent a lot of time
impressing my friends
by what I know
and they say they look up to me,
because I have figured out
a few things out on my own.
And that’s the truth.
I can honestly say
that I never asked them
to put me up on a pedestal
so they can admire me
but they did.
And that’s the truth.
But they should know
that it is lonely,
so lonely
here at the top
where I work to learn
and watch you play.
And that’s the truth.
Edith Ann and I have discovered
the same universal knowledge.
All work and no play
isn’t as fun as people might think.
We may be wise and witty
but it’s no laughing matter.
And that’s the truth.