Plodding Tired (Writing 101 Just Write June 2014)

Plodding Tired

Today I am
plodding tired,
a day-long’s
listless languishing.
My frowsy fingers tapping
sluggishly along convoluted,
complex computer keys.
Will I succeed to
the next stroke?

I’m writing wearily
under weighty water.
My head heavy—
from my sunken
eye sockets
to the top
of my shrunken
skull soaking in
sultry lake algae

My murky mind
of floating thoughts
drifts through
muddy waters
empty sluggish efforts
What does algae
linger on?
Discarded fish droppings?
Let it leave me.

I want to awaken
crystalline. My fingers
gliding glissando.
Caressing each
computer key
at a pristine
piano-concerto pace
to touch the next
with zestful zing.

I want my mind
to bask in the
bright sunshine.
Brilliant ideas bursting
radiant on the page.
Soaked in sun.
The source of
energy evolving.
Singing out secrets!

Check back tomorrow.
My mind report
may scintillate.
One can always hope—
Even with a muddled
mind of algae water
Even with thudding
feckless fingers
Even plodding tired.

They Are the Sun and the Moon (a poem of twenty prompts NaPoWriMo 4/29/2014)

The sun sets,
a dazzling diamond pull
on a window shade
introducing the moon
made of opal
and creamy pearls.
Listen closely!
Hear the crescendo
of their entrance
and departure!

Like Van Gogh
at Arles
a master at work
no, a clown at play
dabbing splotches
with his frigid finger
paints from Persia
in enticing letters
to lure Gauguin,

while the smell
of spring lingers
with laughter in
the succulent
Southern breeze.
Criminently!
If he wore
the scarlet sandal,
Gauguin would
surely rouse to

taste the magical
mystic mornings.
“The peepal leaves
are shaped
cordate,” he’ll
sing. Silken soft
butterflies of beauty!
“I’ll grow fleecy,
fledgling feathers
and fly to your

awaiting easel!”
In the sunset
remarkable rebirth.
All, including Gigi,
will giggle with
gladness at
the magnificent marvel.
Sugary cheese!
The simmering ganja
tea leaves reveal

the two now live
together in the
sultry sentient shadows.
The sun and the
moon dance!
Bold brilliance in
swirls of tangerine,
light lemon, sorbet
pink and the lasting
lilt of lavender.

Flirtation (NaPoWriMo 4/14/2014)

Flirtation

Walking along, I see you—
a bit to the side
of a regular road.
I don’t know what
it is that draws
me to you.
Was it a glint
of the morning
sun off your surface?
Just one whitish stone
among a particular patch
of many more,

I stop to
pick you up
and feel the comforting
warmth of you,
light in my hand,
hardly there at all.
My thumb rubs
your stone surface–
mostly smooth–
two bumps and
a gentle groove
on one side.

My thumb flips
you over in
my palm.
You surprise me!
This part of you
is more rounded
softer and smoother—
a toddler’s tummy.
You’re not ticklish,
though I try
my luck. You’re
a stone—after all!

I want to
watch you fly.
I fling you
flippantly from my
hand and smile
as you twirl
two times in
the air before
you lightly land
to my open
palm once again
and rest there.

I start to
hum a no-name
tune and take
a closer look
at your stoney
surface—an egg white
with almost unnoticeable
flecks of flamingo
and goose gray
and crystalline glitter
coyly exposed to
those who dare

to scrutinze your
shy, stoney surface.
On a whim,
still humming happily,
I toss you
again into the air,
so fresh and full,
and delight in
the dance you do
as you twist
and tumble some
more in a jaunt

toward my waiting
hand, once again.
As before, you
plop pleasurably there,
and I carefully
caress your shell
one more time
before casting you
to an obscure
corner, and you nosedive
into other esoteric
objects discarded there.