Monday, April 26, 2010

PAD 04/26/10

Day 26 of the Poem a Day Challenge.  Prompt:  More than five times.


At first I felt kindly
toward Baba Yaga
but after she'd
tipped her beer
more than five times
she began haltingly to dance

and I saw she wasn't
different from any other woman
who'd ever thought herself as being
at the back of the line
who went to parties alone
and had no one to sit with.

She took off her shoes
threw her gnarled hands
into the air and said
I am so happy; I am so, so happy.
Why wasn't she dancing
among us with her fiery skulls?
Why weren't we afraid?

Next she'll be wearing
rhinestones, cheap earrings and
face cream from Avon.
Next we'll be able go to her house
for cookies and sandwiches
kiss her old wrinkled cheek
leave her house in the dark
forest completely unscathed.

1 comment:

Cynthia said...

I love this.



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Northwest Ohio, United States
"I was no better than dust, yet you cannot replace me. . . Take the soft dust in your hand--does it stir: does it sing? Has it lips and a heart? Does it open its eyes to the sun? Does it run, does it dream, does it burn with a secret, or tremble In terror of death? Or ache with tremendous decisions?. . ." --Conrad Aiken


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Fave Painting: Eden

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The Secret of Hurricanes : That article in the Waterville Scout said it was Shake- spearean, all that fatalism that guides the Kennedys' lives. The likelihood of untimely death. Recently, another one died in his prime, John-John in an airplane. Not long before that, Bobby's boy. While playing football at high speeds on snow skis. Those Kennedys take some crazy chances. I prefer my own easy ways. Which isn't to say my life hasn't been Shake-spearean. By the time I was sixteen, my life was like the darkened stage at the end of Hamlet or Macbeth. All littered with corpses and treachery.

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