A Custom Blend of Sci-fi and Melancholy

Time Machines and Regrets

Now I see
how similar they are
I looked upon your true face
you saw a stranger
and talked about your daughters

the pain of so much love
must stay bound
inside my heart
though only a reckless impulse
is needed to free it

but I am here with you
and you are dying
alone in the hospital
at three am
the darkness of the room
cut by shards
of fluorescents

Surprised to see
a familiar stranger
you smile and
still manage that
incredulous look
as I tell you who I am

the woman
the person
your daughter
I tell you everything
and selfishly want
you to comfort me

ltv


[untitled]

the moment of death
we seek what is familiar
some die every day

ltv

Rainy Sunday Haiku

Dog Haiku

My Human is home!
At last I can show my love.
Bark? Jump? No, I pee!


Cat Haiku

That human is back.
My Perfect Nap is ruined!
At least she feeds me.



Rainy Day Haiku

worries slap and splash
on the pavement of my mind
I just wait it out

A New Poem and a Rant about the Navy Recruitment Ads

First, the new poem.


daydreaming

looking up
through the branches
towards the blueness
into infinity
then back to yourself
on a not so summer day
just the way I like them
late springs or early autumns
ssshhh .... the wind reminds me
with a gentle stroke
across the cheeks
I am not alone
in this Universe

ltv




Now the rant. Has anyone seen the Navy Recruitment Ads on TV? "Accelerate Your Life" is their new slogan!?!? Why not just say "Join the Navy and Die Young!"?

The path to enlightenment (The Japanese Zen Garden at Smith College.) 

I've always hated titles

Yesterday was the poetry open mic at Jester's in Westfield. Not very many people showed up. The feature was Dane Kuttler who won this year's Florence Poetry Society Jan Slam (I came in fourth but I'm not bitter). :*) You can find Dane's work at http://Sophia.Smith.edu/~dkuttler

Here are some more poems I wrote Sunday (I was definitely inspired).


Blue Jean Blues

my hips don't know
when the music starts
that I am carrying
twenty -- okay thirty
extra pounds
my hips don't understand
that shaking
makes things jiggle
even though trapped
within denim that fits
just a little too well
in certain places
my hips covet
my tank-topped
breasts gyrating freely
to the rhythms pouring
into my darkened room
my hips wish
to be wrapped in silk scarves
or cotton sarongs
swaying to songs
played in the sun
to audiences of admirers
my hips can feel
restrictions placed upon them
in tidy packages with button-flies
my hips thrash about
to try and loose the bindings
they know they don't deserve

ltv




Non-Custodial Parent

my father visits me
in the sound of bagpipes
or the well-placed
rhyme of a poem
he has found
a new home
amongst legends
and myths and
memories I can't seem
to remember anymore
my father speaks to me
through British actors
on the BBC on the weekend
when I have time to watch
my father reminds me
that Shakespeare and Benny Hill
speak the same language
and warns me
not to confuse them
my father walks beside me
not in a hokey sand-footed way
but inevitably, invisibly
genetically in vitro
my father spends
his overdrawn time
touching parts of my mind
I think he doesn't know about
and can't possibly understand
my father knows best
how to turn away from life
so far away that you circle
back and are forced to live it


ltv



I Could Eat You Up!

a rare delicacy
is the fur-tufted belly
of a Willow cat
pure white soft luxury
trusting me not to bite
too much off
when I upend her
paws in the air
she squirms
ineffectively
though I release her
just the same
expecting her to run
she looks up at me
to do it again

ltv

On Poetry and Inspiration

Just a random collection of new and old on the topic of poetry and inspiration.


Coveting Poet

I want to steal
the words
so prettily placed
beside meaning
and image
I imagine myself
slipping through
your pen or fingers
and blending
with those
characters
you've created
walking them
from the page
to where they
will be held captive
by my attention
until the next time
I read your work

ltv


A Plea to A Muse

I've lost my poetic muse
I don't know where she's gone
I thought I saw her yesterday
out on the neighbor's lawn

But it was merely children
playing hide and seek or such
So still I'm looking for my muse
I can't recall her touch

This morning I thought I heard her
dripping down with the dew
but birds were singing loud today
No word I wrote was new

At lunch I almost found her
in the smile of a man
but sharply I dismissed the cad
and startled -- my muse ran

Dinner's done and still she lags
my muse has been remiss
I need -- to taste her memory --
to know her gentle kiss

If I try to search myself
I wonder what I'll find
Now, sadly, I keep looking but,
her absence makes me blind.

ltv



Emotis Insensitus #333

I collect Emotions
I capture them with words
I revel in the loud ones
I speak for those unheard

I make them safe with language
or harmless with a rhyme
I label them precisely --
display them over time

I understand what makes them tick
I sense when they are near
I sink into a camouflage
the moment they appear

but when I finally take them
the feeling is divine
to possess what someone feels
and basely call it mine

ltv



The Zen Poem

The poem is life
or death to some
with words that bite
and tickle the mind
I find that meaning
overcomes style
so that poets
after a while
become invisible
like people
and all that remains
is the feeling
after the encounter
sealing our fate
to shed these
corporal rhymes
in time to become
one with the Universe

ltv