The Pink Ticket

A playground of many muses.

The Pink Ticket - A playground of many muses.

Project 365: A Year in Words, Day 226

humidity sticks to the window
pane as thunder crashes across
the tops of trees. lists, notes,
and ideas strewn lazily over surfaces
plagued with dust of disenchantment.
in the background, countering
whirs from fans and air conditioning,
Robin Williams is rambling poetic
about pornography while I eat
Triscuits and ruminate a lexicon
of fairy stories and fancies.

Project 365: A Year in Words, Day 225

At night it’s hard to tell if the squeaking
from the porch is a bat gorging
as dinner circles a nearby bulb–
a naked sunshine fallacy. Or
if it’s the old pinwheel I bought
one beach bound Saturday,
now aged, hurricane tattered,
and glistening as it wheels on an evening
breeze. Somewhere, from beneath
a cloud, the moon laughs, heard only
by the ears of cats as they keep
survey from flower beds and window
sills. Neighborhood dogs sleep, curled
up with their person who is oblivious
to the bats, the pinwheel, the moon,
clouds, and watchful felines as reality
television is beamed in. Another page
from the Orwellian playbill, turned.

Project 365: A Year in Words, Day 224

My kingdom for a cupcake, I’ve been known
to say… and especially today of days.
And while it seems extreme for a frosting
fix, all you would get for the effort
would be a couple of plants and a high
maintenance cat, the latter of which
rules all–and is not especially impressed
with cake of any sort. Though he is easily
bribed with treats; we all have our kryptonite…
and I would like mine chocolate, please.

Project 365: A Year in Words, Day 223

Bones of the sea; fragments broken
and spilled across time. Years and a
thousand small pieces adding up
smooth over the rough edges
as we ride upon the waves
not cool surfers, but pulled
and pushed in a forever abyss.
Coveted, collected, and processed:
someones necklace, or earrings.
Treasures of a six year old
displayed in homes, dusty with life.
Souvenirs of the day–that one day;
crunching underfoot. Waiting.


Today’s prompt from: TweetSpeak Poetry

Project 365: A Year in Words, Day 221

I heard one of our Frank songs today;
they always play in the oddest places
where I’m least expecting the memories
to come, flooding in, scooped into my
grocery store trolley strolling the lanes.
It was likely just one of my favorites,
that you’d smile and tease before
giving the best “Frank” I’ve still ever
seen before lazily sipping your drink.
Generously tipping a piano man to keep
me amused, then lavishly tell stories
I’d heard 100 days already–
your encores were always top shelf.
Fast forward, late evening dinner;
sun and electricity in the air, the messengers
watch perched anxiously as I listen
to Prince: I only wanted to see you….
Until another day.