Friday, August 31, 2012

Cherry Tomatoes by Sandra Beasley


 image credit: google.com

 Cherry Tomatoes  copy righted by Sandra Beasley


Little bastards of vine.
Little demons by the pint.
Red eggs that never hatch,
just collapse and rot. When

my mom told me to gather
their grubby bodies
into my skirt, I'd cry. You
and your father, she'd chide—

the way, each time I kicked
and wailed against sailing,
my dad shook his head, said
You and your mother.

Now, a city girl, I ease one
loose from its siblings,
from its clear plastic coffin,
place it on my tongue.

Just to try. The smooth
surface resists, resists,
and erupts in my mouth:
seeds, juice, acid, blood

of a perfect household.
The way, when I finally
went sailing, my stomach
was rocked from inside

out. Little boat, big sea.
Handful of skinned sunsets.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

French Poetry By Steven Federle

Le Livre de la Vie



"Peut-être le livre de vie, à la fin, est le livre de ce que l'on a vécu et si l'on a vécu rien, il n'est pas dans le livre de la vie. "Thomas Merton

Tournez les pages
passé le couvercle clinquant
au-delà de dédicaces sincères;
qu'est-ce que vous
lire?

Y at-il tragédies
tapi dans vos plis à feuilles?
Luttez-vous, ô héros,
avec des sirènes et un des
peep-eyed
ING Toms?

Etes-vous triomphante?

Dans votre petit conte,
ne vous satisfait
harcelé demandes Terrain de?

Êtes-vous heureux
avec votre point culminant, votre
Denoue-
ment?

Ou, les yeux humides et le rouge,
enfin ne vous laissez tomber
le volume de votre lambeaux
à l'étage cave moisie,
et je me demande,

ce qui s'est passé?

Saturday, August 4, 2012

Gilt Holly (For Humor and Short fiction Prompts)






 
 

Each house is swept the day before,
And windows stuck with evergreens,
The snow is besom’d from the door,
And comfort crowns the cottage scenes.
Gilt holly, with its thorny pricks
And yew and box, with berries small,
These deck the unused candlesticks,
And pictures hanging by the wall.