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AND IT WAS …

Under the table lies a cork
and there,
in the corner;
carelessly kicked off shoes.

Wineglasses stand around
with tired sediment-smiles,
while the crumbled biscuits
are swept away.

As I think back on the
tales that we shared,
and the laughs that we had …

egad!
I just remembered;
I forgot to serve the bloody cake!

©Cindy Taylor 2008

CLOUDS FOR PAULA

Handstands, cartwheels; upside down view of the sky.

Lying on my back

greensmell grass prickles, there’ll be a rash at bathtime!

making stories out of clouds:

look, there; a camel or a monkey with a big cigar!

Respectable now, older;

feet on the ground, sensible shoes.

Only look upward once in while;

do I need an umbrella?

 

 

This is my contribution to Paula’s blog anniversary challenge.

For more info, please read here:

http://paulatohlinecalhoun1951.wordpress.com/2011/01/11/a-year-in-the-life/

and

http://paulatohlinecalhoun1951.wordpress.com/2011/01/20/clouds-come/

RUNNING RELIGIOUSLY

He runs;
early enough to hear the imam’s call
high in the mosque’s minaret.

Feet pounding tar,
he passes catholic schoolgirls
getting off a bus
outside the convent.

His breath steaming,
he trots by pious men with earlocks
walking slowly, in pairs
to the Chester road synagogue.

He thinks of tolerance,
then gives it up
to contemplate toast.

SIDE VIEW’S WEEKEND THEME : HIDING

I stand

   some distance away

   not above, or under;

   but level with where I am

now:

To measure, or weigh;

to try to see

the hiding

Me of Me.

But the view is obscured.

I cannot see beyond

MinutiaE.

Photograph: Lyndsay Barr

For more takes on Side View’s weekend theme, go to:

http://viewfromtheside.wordpress.com/

DREAM WARP: HEARTBEAT

 

I’m swimming

just beneath the surface

of my dream;

not fighting,

letting the current

carry me,

like fronds

of some pliant plant.

Bluegreen light;

far above

beckons

with a faint murmur:

I drift …

And now:

louder

a heartbeat

NO!

A ticking clock;

A shrill alarm.

I’m going to be late for her lesson!

TRAVEL DREAMS

Before dawn.

Soft, dewy grass beneath my back,

my friend The Moon is obliterated

by an airplane coming in to land.

Where have these travelers been

I wonder.

I yearn to travel again.

To marvel at other cultures, to taste foreign foods and take photographs of ancient buildings.

Oh how sad, I regret that it will probably never happen again.

Je ne peuvent que rêver de lointain rives.

 

Inspiration:

http://slpmartin.wordpress.com/2010/09/15/some-day-i-will/

THE EARLY HOURS

A car thumps by, outside on the rain spattered road;
youngsters, I think and smile.
My dogs, snoring in ecstatic little grunts,
make this room smell of biscuits,
I don’t mind, it’s rather nice.
Beneath my fingers a conversation almost happens,
with a clever boy in London.
As you age, it is said,
you need less sleep.

They each have a perfectly good basket to sleep in, surely this can’t be too comfortable?