Archive for Fee Easton

Time Shared

Posted in One Shoot, One Stop Poetry, Poetry Reading with tags , , , , , , , , , on May 14, 2011 by dustus


Once uncertain feels distance
Abysmal, lovelorn mist fraught
Lonely, lowly, sinking, hold me
Never let me go through temporoparietal injunctions
Mental storms fog, shoveled death beds
Where dropped flowers lay
White roses arise
Stemming from paralysis
Dirt strewn among the blushing clay
My heart strains when I miss your face
And dying cares to slow this pace…

Coiling off—farewell acceptance
Trailing back to DNA
Our bench boat warmer
Because what can’t be
Provisional learned lies, profit sized
Unamended changing ties
Fooled cause, your training wheels
Blister heals as pinwheels turn
Broken seals, clubbed line
Derivatives at brunch time
Reflecting our liquid mirrors
Iced to stone
Served with sprinkles
Scooped into cones
Leave it to Beaver

Scintillating, this mantle drifts
Aligning skull bones, in lit fused
Cosigning algorithmic, beta, fish
Over billowing horsey rides
Starfish grow limbs throughout the night
Beneath day, a cross of sand
Beyond smoldering spreads of “muster seed”
There’s us again—each grain a second
Forgetting me; not to mind
Whispering suspensions
As you turn down
Lost lanes
Plush pillow spreads
No carousel exile
Arcade revolving
Cranks carnival tunes
Crackling vitriolic, ultrasonic
Soundtracks stamp eternity
Doffing fedoras from origamic newspapers
Placebos in your Coke and wafers
Kindness never asked for favors
Running red lights
She howled in labor

As the morphine drips…
Sandy seconds ensconce frail wonder
Tick-drops, bleating thunder
What’s that again?
Wind chimes entangle
Shearing sheep
Cat tail run
Under rocking chair
Comp-bleat
Pinched ivy vines
Rusted watering cans
Dreg coffee grinds
Fresh sheets billow country laundry lines
Detergent to the blacklighting moon
Humid swelling summer nights
Her leg sways in sundress, to bluegrass
Mandolins, banjo picked
Lip-licked, swing pushed
Reality over Everest
I was there
Few lines measure
Tenderness until buried
Treasure, missed
Open chest
Blood and grist

Unobserved en masse
Before holding back, your hair
Only time hearing swears
Supplicant before porcelain
Cold compress to forehead
Throw rugs and beach blankets
Combating hypothermia
False alarms, miscarriage
Like our sea this afterbirth
Brine stew, circuit breaks
Welding sparks
Riding bikes
Dream built
For two that is
Really one—what a deal!
Once knowing love
Recounting us
Experience proves
Unquestioned trust

Carry on this being
Your certain return
Recalls warm new eyes
An apocalypse of pupils
Blinking bulbs of feeling was
When our children first called me
Daddy, it was their mother’s garden
Were Lilith tended floral bloom
Aching through time
Without possession
We are nothing
Except for another’s memory
Reality being what disintegrates
Crumbling into liver splotches
Broken time pieces
Tears watering hospital lots
Cracked windows
Unwound watches
Among the oil stained stalls
Past vacation spots
Means to end
Holding hands
Beauty, I could
Feel you
Hoping not to
Pass alone
Or go
Home, emotions swell
Of principled uncertainty
Vibrations, atomic energy
Coded bones, human genome
Stemming from cells
Imprisoned wake
This naked room
Accredited mistakes
Leading to continue…

Fumbling amid the apathy
Blinded by universal surrender, fate
Overlook, pathology
Born back into dreams of oblivion
Among the hints that banish afterlife
Finding each other
Lost from age
Yet closer through time shared
Existing until the end of our days

___________________________________

Would you like to hear me read my poem?

*The above photograph is courtesy of UK photographer & friend Fee Easton. Fee returns to One Stop Poetry for a second time. Her photos comprise today’s One Shoot Sunday Picture Prompt challenge.

Fee also lent me the photo prompts for my triolet called A Golden Scheme, Dying Requests, and a recent poem called In Love Again.

A Golden Scheme

Posted in Image Poetry, Poetry Reading with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on March 15, 2011 by dustus


This time I might discover life
Accepting death a golden scheme

Well squeeze moist eyes; uplift soft sighs
This time I might discover life
Repeats no points for bitter pride
To not break down—my goal it seems

This time I might discover life
Accepting death a golden scheme


__________________________________
Would you like to hear me read this Triolet?

A, B, a, A, a, b, A, B (iambic)

*The above photograph courtesy of UK photographer Fee Easton. Fee was interviewed on  One Shoot Sunday.

Dying Requests

Posted in Image Poetry, One Shoot with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 13, 2011 by dustus

Before I die
Light these Roman candles
Like a bartender pours 3 double-shots in a row
Across glass molds formed from ounces blown

Without break to flow phelgmatic
In jest congestion; the hypocritically kind—
Exiled into passive-aggression
Too young for hardened arteries
Too old repeats inside my mind 

Biochemical cured concrete
Spun within human drums
Arrhythmic beatings
Spread feelings harden

Dendritic shorts come to naught
Failed circuit switch
Mined powder, dementia

Whitewashing anguish
Extinguishing, we perish
Each cause ill fate
Go ahead and stare
at me…
I will never blink
Being partly there

No smoking hot Medusa
Wilting willow hair for snakes

Think of me as Dostoyesky

Hearing appraisal howls

Trumpet blares, wailing wolf

Rejoicing from inner war

Before night quells peace

When missing sentences kill

Me, Anna Karenina

This solitude, an empty room

Torture acts
Beyond contemplation
Mourning life
Lost sight
Truth lies
Self taken

Arresting spirit, one-way vacation
Upon snowflake-pattern doily
A flower vase empty, missing blooms
Frost replaced spring afternoons
Table-sized at grandma’s
Fighting epileptic agony
“Verily, Verily, I say unto you,”
What is memory
When depression wills?
Light unto infinity
Judgments nobody asks until

Engravement upon his tombstone
Please
“Except a corn of wheat fall
Into the ground and die

When hammers chiseling tragedy
Carved below an arc of slate
To make the place of rest, decay
For all our flesh
That is fate
We are the dirt
I am afraid

Cancer sticks
They too pass on
Dismissed, not lit
Tasting chemically bitter
Having lost rounds through half-life
Eclipsed sunshine; wax-sealed
Penny lain upon each eye
As the music leaves
This prop stands, waiting
For someone to finally don’t shoot me

________________
Want to take a Listen?

*This poem is my response to the One Stop Poetry Sunday Picture Prompt Challenge. The prompt was shot by photographer Fee Easton, featured today on One Stop Poetry.