Porcelain

He blows away her dust,
Smiling as his friends compliment
His exotic doll kept in a glass showcase.
He locks her doors tightly,
Afraid a single breath will shatter her skin.
He prays to keep her from harm,
Not noticing the cobwebs around her heart
As she prays for rescue from his dollhouse

The Deep End

I haven’t gone off
The deep end.
I just like to dangle my feet
Over the edge
And watch my toes twist
Light into dark
And back again.

The Lesson Plan

When we are young
Parents and teachers
Promote our American opportunity,
Potential limited only by our imaginations.

“You can be a doctor.”
“You can be an astronaut.”
“You can even be President of the United States.”

(Unless, of course
You are a conservative…and a woman.)

Media Whore

Vicious graffiti
Aimed at a woman
Whose only crime
Is standing with the citizenry
While chasing her American dream,
Reported with glee
By those who prostitute the truth
In the dim red light of their cameras.

The Box

A white wooden box
Trimmed with squares of molding
And brass handles
Holds an honored place
In the center of the table,
Photographs and pink roses
Lovingly arranged around it.
A box that well-crafted
Was meant for mementos -
A first pair of shoes.
Baby teeth thought to be in the care of the Tooth Fairy.
A lacy white Communion dress.
A fourth-grade spelling bee trophy.
Prom pictures.
A wedding garter.
A box like that was never meant
For an angel so precious
That God decided to keep her with Him.

Gypsy

I whirled in gypsy firelight many lives ago,
Free and in harmony with Mother Earth.
With flowing skirt and bare feet,
I’ve found luck and doom in tea leaves,
Never seeing the eternal wanderings in my own palm.

Window Games

The playing field is small,
Just the space between our windows.

The rules are simple.
Look out the window
As long as you can
Without the other one knowing.

The penalties for getting caught:
Embarrassment,
Unanswered questions,
A knowing look.

Don’t talk to each other -
It’s the unspoken rule.
The game is silly,
Yet we keep playing
And no one wins.

The Lament of the English Student

Contact between mouth and brain is lost.
The floodgates of stupidity open,
Pouring out an array
Of double negatives
And overworked comparisons.
All rational thoughts have disappeared,
Leaving my participles dangling
Behind my shattered pride.

Vision Quest

She walks along the hillside
And can feel the tribal drums
Pounding rhythms through her veins
As the next day’s morning comes.

The mournful North Dakota wind
Still holds the ancient chants.
She sees the tribe meet by the fire
To dance the sacred dance.

She can’t forget her heritage,
The world she’s never known,
How ancestors carved out their lives
From rock and wood and bone.

She knows she is a seer.
She envisions futures past.
She sees her bloodline rise and fall
And fears she’ll be the last.

She does not know her destiny,
Her path is unrevealed.
There is no one to light her way
And fate’s dark lips are sealed.

She walks along the hillside
And awaits a brighter day,
A woman searching for a home
And time that passed away.

Published in  Poet‘s Place in “The Bugle”  vol. 4 number 4 - Jan. 28, 2011.

By Candlelight

She sits alone each evening
And she weeps by candlelight.
She’s dancing with his memory
On a cold Nebraska night.

She still can feel the velvet touch
Of his warm lips’ caress.
She still can feel his strong hands
Moving underneath her dress.

She promised him forever,
That she’d be his lifelong mate,
Not knowing how it all would change
With one cruel twist of fate.

He left her forty years ago,
Never to return.
Now she prays; “God rest his soul”
And lets her candles burn.

She lets her candles burn each night
And desperately she cries
Still married to his memory
For true love never dies.

Search Engine Synergy

An unsigned piece of soul
Carelessly discarded and burning through the ether
Lands on my computer screen via a random search algorithm.
Your cadence,
Your phrasing,
Your self-deprecation tinged with arrogance,
Still as familiar as the curve of your jaw
Or your breath on my neck.
Once we laughed and loved and chased our muse.
I see you too still answer her call.
Smiling down on our parallel lives,
The muse adds yet another cosmic coincidence
To the long-ago story of us.

Tea Time

Do not be afraid
As I sip my arsenic tea
And pray to join my ancestors.
Life, like good tea,
Should be savored,
And my cup is still quite full.

Hearts

Greeting cards and pop songs
Would have us believe
Hearts are pretty,
Polished,
Easily healed to pristine condition.

In reality,
Hearts are ugly,
Scarred with the tattoos of youthful regret,
Riddled with bloody chasms of grief and loss.
We wander through the voids
And curse our futile attempts at normalcy,
Questioning how we arrived there
And how our damaged hearts can ever go on.

But, across the gaps and the scars,
We breathe.
We move.
We love,
And we never forget.

Welcome!

Welcome to Write Wing Conspiracy.  It is here that I will be chronicling my journey back into writing as well as my poems.  I believe that inspiration can come from anything that goes on in our lives, so I will also touch on a bit of my life, emotions, and interests along the way.  To quote a great sailor man, “I am who I am, and that’s all that I am.”  I’m not hear looking for anyone’s approval.  I’m not here to apologize for anything.  I’m simply here to share a slice of my world and maybe a little bit of art too.

Turning forty provided a great opportunity to examine my life so far.  I certainly have not ended up where I expected.  I’ve made more than my share of mistakes, made my life much harder than it really needed to be through sheer stupidity at times. Fate has also been a willing co-conspirator, taking every available chance to kick me. And yet, my inner voice tells me that all the trials and heartaches I’ve experienced, it’s all building toward my shining moment.

So I’ve turned once again to writing.  I know it doesn’t fix anything, but it does give voice to my world. (If anyone happens to be listening is quite another story.)   I’ve got much more determination to keep with it now instead of letting life get in the way.

Thanks for stopping by, and feel free to comment on what you find here and if you enjoyed it please recommend it to your friends.