going once, going twice.....

Who would have thought today would be too late
to discover those things I had in my possession yesterday
so I must cherish them like there is no tomorrow
.

Just an inkling in time, a minutia of life
is like a dew covered rain forest that disappears;
who would have thought today would be too late
.

Openly accepting the woman that lives within my heart
can only assist and sweeten my capacity
to discover those things I had in my possession yesterday
.

But the dreams that I may realize will not in any way
alter the feelings that I hold for these ever fleeting moments
so I must cherish them like there is no tomorrow

Not flawless

Strolling down Ditmars Avenue, thinking of all there was to do before I would propose, the home I would refurbish, that feminine wounded heart that needed to heal. I didn't even notice his hand or his pockmarked face, a pickpocket, as he lifted the diamond I intended for her. Three more things for the list; pay better attention, buy a new ring, and insure it.

Which witch is it?

Metaphysical bookstores new
seem to accrue
a clientele
under a spell

Yet christian bookstores seem to boast
the holy ghost
which sounds to me
like a banshee

So tell me can you really say
what store today
holds the appeal
of all that's real?

.

The Itsy Bitsy Siren

Maybe a somewhat boring existence. For several days now I have been watching the antics of a spider, yes a spider who has taken up residence under one of the eaves of my house. I have watched from day one when it began its first web straight through today ( 3 webs later ) and it may sound odd but this little arachnid sure has stamina. This morning for the first time I watched "the hunt" and it spurred me to write the following; I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

The Itsy Bitsy Siren


Glistening filaments coated with dew,
suspending neat packages, not just a few
looks nearly abandoned during each daylight
yet a buzz of activity all through the night

.

When it seems to encourage every mosquito and midge
to try to fly through it and adhere to a ridge
tangled and snared like flying rats in a trap
their seconds are numbered before it's a wrap
.

Lighter than air and stronger than steel
a floating boudoir with some desirous appeal
or hence it must seem to each unknowing moth
who when injected with enzymes turns into a broth
.

Airborne pieces of lint and small bits of hay
are culled from her web all during the day
to prepare for the eve when it's time to clobber
unsuspecting prey who are turned into slobber
.

Eight shiny legs, slender and pointed,
appear carefully tended, almost anointed,
ready to scurry and work on demand
delicately placed, each on a strand

.

The dew that I mention is truly a foe
which causes her mansion to actually show
I think she's a widow but does never wail
and where she has been there's never a trail
.

Disgust and fear she instills in most men
almost as chilling as World War Twos Bren
looks tiny, petite, but has venomous airs
and all over her body she sports tiny hairs
.

A master at hunting, knows how to enthral
she'll take them all on, the big and the small
apparently fearless and on the ball
yet if she could write I know it'd be scrawl
.

Call me ridiculous, call me a fool
but things like this can make me drool
knowing that this spider is fully content
doing the only thing she's alive for, what she was meant

.

.

DS

Nata 1918 - Morta 1920 - Little Rosalia

It was in Palermo I recall that overcast day
unlike the majority of my splendorous stay
Architecture so grand, regal and proud
Sicilians all hurrying despite the great crowd

.

The "Boot" of the mainland not far away indeed
was calling me back as if I were it's seed
But that same morning I had but one agenda
to see Rosalia Lombardo, yes, still ever so tender

.

See, she was the highlight, a Capuchin claim to fame
yet I wanted to spy it all, every monk, every lane
which housed her mates, all still in their death
straddled side by side, long since their last breath

.

All the ruins I had seen each day since the start
had not prepared me at all for the feelings today would impart
Not once did I ponder where all the people had gone
I was overly enthralled with the heft, with the brawn

.
But when I entered the cavernous mausoleum of sorts,
the catacombs with walls lined with lime not with quartz
there was a coolness in the air, it was natural they said
perhaps this is what helped in preserving their dead

.
Eight thousand in all literally hung in this abode
all shapes and all sizes, to many this had been bestowed
as the best place to lie, some stately some royal
some prone in mock coffins, some laid in a coil

.
Wilted bouquets, relics and toys lined almost each wall
dates to the sixteenth century could be made out in scrawl
Skeletons, mummy like, bones, hair and clothes
at first was horrific, should have been sacred, not exposed

.
Slowly I walked my way down each section and saw
that I was not the only person pulled by the draw
of the dead that were here for each eye to view
perhaps this is what helped make me construe

.

That this was not eerie, not disgusting not vile
I thought "these are their memorials" and managed a smile
Twas then the sensation hit me with a great whack
I had been "Stung by the Splendor of Sudden Black."

Lights, Camera, Action

It's "An inconvenient truth" but
"The first five people you meet in heaven", if you do,
could be "Stranger than fiction" not "Just friends"
.

I feel "Regret to inform" you that "Me and you
and everyone we know" who are seeking "A home at the end of the world"

might not make "The final cut"; it may not be our "Destiny".
.
So "Live forever" now, "Smile" at every "Shopgirl",
"Head of State", "Cop", "Waitress" and "Lonesome Jim"
ask them all "Shall we dance?", have "The time of your life"
.

because "Chances are" the "Fictitious marriage" between
"Heaven and Earth" is like a "House of wax", "Nothing Sacred",
"Liquid moments" "Frozen alive" ready to melt away
.

It's "Never too late" though, you see, "Laughing matters",

so be able to say "It was a wonderful Life" "Before the devil
knows you're dead" or you too may live "Happily N'Ever After".

The following movie titles are credited in creating the above writing:

BEFORE THE DEVIL KNOWS YOU'RE DEAD - Sidney Lumet - 2007

THE FINAL CUT - Director: Omar Naim - 2004

HOUSE OF WAX - Director: Jaume Serra - 2005

THE FIVE PEOPLE YOU MEET IN HEAVEN - Lloyd Kramer - 2004

ME AND YOU AND EVERYONE WE KNOW - Miranda July - 2005

A HOME AT THE END OF THE WORLD - Director: Michael Mayer - 2004

AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH - Director: Davis Guggenheim - 2006
STRANGER THAN FICTION - Director: Marc Forster - 2006

SHOPGIRL - Director: Anand Tucker - 2005

SHALL WE DANCE - Director: Peter Chelsom - 1937

JUST FRIENDS - Director: Roger Kumble - 2005

REGRET TO INFORM - Director: Barbara Sonneborn - 2000

DESTINY - Director: Fritz Lang - 1921

LIVE FOREVER - Director: John Dower - 2003

SMILE - Director: Jeffrey Kramer - 2005

WAITRESS - Director: Adrienne Shelly - 2007

HEAD OF STATE - Director: Chris Rock - 2003

COP - Director: James B. Harris - 1988
LONESOME JIM - Director: Steve Buscemi - 2005

CHANCES ARE - Director: Emile Ardolino - 1989

THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE - Director: Kirk Browning - 1976

FICTITIOUS MARRIAGE - Director: Haim Bouzaglo - 1959
HEAVEN AND EARTH - Director: Oliver Stone - 1993

NOTHING SACRED - Director: William A. Wellman - 1937

LIQUID MOMENTS - Director: Ian Stewart - 2005

FROZEN ALIVE - Director: Not Available - 1964
NEVER TOO LATE - Director: Giles Walker - 1997
LAUGHING MATTERS - Director: Andrea Meyerson - 2004
HAPPILY N'EVER AFTER - Director: Paul J. Bolger - 2006

rrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip

Thanks to Poefusion I have discovered Easy Street Prompts and given it a shot looks like it will be fun.

It's amazing how quickly
one can become tattered
after the loss of one dear

I never knew how much
of him was holding me
from unravelling, uncoiling

I knew I was patterned
after him but never had a
clue that he was my glue

Or thread if you will that
kept me in one piece,
held me together until

He was gone, then I knew
as the hole just grew
bigger and bigger by the day

Leaving me ragged, scathed,
almost torn in two parts
with little hope of repair

Can't hide

He tried to appear kempt
although a string hung
from his jacket sleeve
bearing the price he had paid

.
Attempting to impress like a fresco,
a mural on the most crisp,
white linen background, ninety nine
of one hundred percent pure

Buttonholes dilated from wear
made it obvious to all
that rather than champagne taste
he'd often swig wine vinegar

Happy Valentines Day

Softly we met with a kiss
that I had longed to deliver to your plump, bowed lips

Before I knew you I dreamt
of what that moment would be like, I hoped, wished

You did not disappoint me,

you really never have, not even all these years later

You're my "it", you've made
me who I am, and take me to the highest planes

I now know that I shall not
go on without you, I can't imagine "booless" days

...please keep being you, for me

Your mother!

This haiku was inspired by the Monday Mural below; pretty cool pic isn't it?

Who'd a thought mother

nature was just some strung out

bitch in red spandex?

shoo!

The stinging pain is incomplete
til' I hold you in my arms
tis' then your vice gets hold of me
you use your wily charms

I feel that you are what I need
despite my inner plea
you use your wily charms
tis' then your vice gets hold of me

Just when I'm ripe to forget you
stop swallowing your harms
tis' then your vice gets hold of me
you use your wily charms

If I could only let you go
that day I would be free
you use your wily charms
tis' then your vice gets hold of me

Erik Fish

...a found poem

.

.

What displeases you

is the root of all evil,

to never be complete

summer backstroke relay

alongside medly

.

The bronze native

was called a scholar,

parents obey their children

and competed for

courting new impressions

courtesy of:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3

You reap what you sow

The vellum book housed
on the high altar
it's tales so highly purported.

.

Known once to all as
thee holy psalter
it's value was somehow distorted.

.

One day it just vanished
into the moss
of a bog beneath Fadden More.

.

The book of fiction was
thought to be lost
found the year that they did explore.

.

It caused us that time
to reminisce
about that age so long ago.

.

How pages so dear
could go amiss
perhaps they were trying to sow.