Forty-Fifth Paradox Writing » Poetry

Burden of Truth

Hostess — Tue, 07 Sep 2010 05:57:02 +0000

He carried his burden on his back.
She carried it over her body.
Every bruise begged for candy,
every word called for geese.
Each misplaced fold told a story,
the day her man lost his job.
Each wrinkle of hers whispered
of the times he’d been rejected.
“Sorry, hon’ I’ve been havin’ a hard time”
She ate his apologies for dessert.

Summer Night

Hostess — Tue, 31 Aug 2010 06:04:14 +0000

You pulled me close

as the sun sank into orange sherbert.

Your lips met mine,

and my arms were too heavy to hold me.

My spirit floated with the clouds,

and drifted back down in sunlit rays

to pick you up and carry you with me.

Waiting

Hostess — Tue, 17 Aug 2010 05:52:23 +0000

She waits for him,

wearing a gold dress that’s long since faded to pale.

Someday, she hopes

he will abandon his lily pad

for his crown,

and his fur for his own skin.

That he’ll trade his pumpkin

for a carriage,

and his ass for a horse.

But the spell hasn’t broken,

and she’s still left with straw

instead of gold.

Keepsake

Hostess — Tue, 10 Aug 2010 03:40:40 +0000

I let your body go months ago,

and I let your soul fly to heaven like a dove,

but do you mind if I

carry a piece of your spirit around with me?

I’ll keep it in my left pocket,

and take it out when I need your backbone,

I need your smile,

need your laughter.

Lit

Hostess — Tue, 03 Aug 2010 07:00:40 +0000

Strike, strike, strike

the match,

strike it hard,

light a blaze,

a supernova,

watch it shine,

glimmer and kill,

and watch it create

stars.

Cassandra

Hostess — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 05:53:26 +0000

There is a whole world between

knowing how to save her life,

and saving her life.

In that world there stands

white-washed doctors,

and mud-slung legislators,

and the god of a computer

who judges without mercy.

Here, common sense is worth less

than two pennies,

but her minutes are worth more than gold.

I could buy diamonds with her lucid thoughts,

and rubies with her smiles.

The Closed Door

Hostess — Thu, 22 Jul 2010 05:05:37 +0000

I beat and pound and beat and pound

on that door, that ash oak door.

Just as I turn my heel to leave it closed,

the door yawns open, and pulls my head back,

as if it hooked my ear on a string, a silk string.

Inside the light is bright, but clouded,

and up above I see a ladder with angels,

but instead of the heavens,

I see the wrong wife,

frowning with guilt in her eyes.

Remember Me: By Lenore A. Pittock

Hostess — Sat, 17 Jul 2010 06:07:09 +0000

When you look at me
all you see is a
slow, suffering, gray, stooped-shouldered
woman who can barely walk,
is short of breath,
and moves every step slowly one at a time.
_________
Remember who I was before,
laughing, running,
butterfly-chasing child who
danced in the sunshine for the pure joy of it,
through the daises,
measures each step for strength,
and found each day unable to contain
the energy that spashed.
_________
Now you see me no more
but remember me. I am once again
picking flowers,
laughing, running, chasing
butterflies, unable to contain
the pure joy and energy splashing
through me as I dance
in eternity’s life with my
creator and savior of my life.

Food for Thought

Hostess — Tue, 13 Jul 2010 05:35:44 +0000

I see the two-sided gleam in her eyes,

as she shovels my every word into her mouth,

and spits it back out with little of her own.

Every so often her husband,

(I’m not sure which trinket belongs to who,

they’ve been hanging off each other all evening)

tugs her closer to clear up something she said,

as if he’s polishing her thoughts.

I’ve seen little of her mental coffers,

but I’ve seen even less of his.

Mr. Anonymous’s Wonderful Franchise

Hostess — Thu, 08 Jul 2010 03:33:58 +0000

May I borrow your face?

May I wear it over mine like a mask?

May I masquerade with your wardrobe,

and shake hands with your favorite clients?

May I borrow a piece of your voice,

and store it in a bottle,

and drink it in,

and vomit out your words like they were mine to begin with?

May I?

Could I?

Can I?

Will I?