Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Alpha Aleph Omega Tav
Alpha, aleph
almighty appear.
Arise and activate
acquire, accept,
attend and
begin.
Commence creation
defending drafts.
Effects edited,
forging form from
gimels generated
however hatched.
Induced inflection;
just jump,
knacker kappa-kaphs
like lightning,
moving manic
nimbly named.
Other options
pulled, pushed
quickly quilled
redacted, removed.
Schemed seamed
text together,
underlined underneath.
Very vexing
wily words
Xacto-ed,
yet yielded
zenith.
Omega, tav,
the end.
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 30
Graphic: Markus Spiering via Flickr
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Storytime
Beneath a moonless midnight sky we sat
around this primal fire, lit
for the purposes of scorching
sugary fluff pierced on sticks and
held over coals until desired
warmness and browness have been achieved
as part of a curious seasonal ritual:
the sacrifice of marshmallows to
the gods of summer.
Little voices clamored for a tale
insisting only I can tell them well
though they based their opinions of my skill
upon sweet stories told at bedtime—
Fables knit of tiny bunnies separated
from longing rabbit mothers
or more angst-filled, old, and bitter yarns
of dead queens and orphan daughters,
and wicked stepmothers intent on the worst
evil not spelled out for tender ears.
Embers cooled, their warm light fading,
as faintest whispers of smoke
wafted up to heaven like spirits
freed from the maple trees in which
they once were trapped.
Stars emerged above, winking
as little heads nod to and fro
fresh air and sunshine having
broken their grasp on wakefulness.
Adults cuddled the drowsy bodies
of their babes fighting sleep
with sand-gritty eyes, asking for me
to tell the stories which
their wee ones begged me to spin.
I know very few, surely someone else
must know more or better tales
to recount around a campfire,
but they badgered me until I yielded
to their scary story demands.
Very well, I said, I'll thread the one
I know the best, the one about
the woman in white who lives nearby
adored by children for her fabulous myths
spun next to hearths while stirring hearts
to pound more fiercely as flames fly high.
Upon which I poked the fire more firmly
checking mesmerized wide dark eyes
before I gently floated away
into the twilit mist over their heads.
Don't ask me for another story
I murmured, the dew's fall upon
their shocked foreheads, their brows
in their hairlines raised by surprise.
I'm afraid this narrative is a bit
difficult to follow with another better.
Perhaps next summer solstice
you can ask me again,
ply me with burnt sugar offerings
and childish supplication.
_____
around this primal fire, lit
for the purposes of scorching
sugary fluff pierced on sticks and
held over coals until desired
warmness and browness have been achieved
as part of a curious seasonal ritual:
the sacrifice of marshmallows to
the gods of summer.
Little voices clamored for a tale
insisting only I can tell them well
though they based their opinions of my skill
upon sweet stories told at bedtime—
Fables knit of tiny bunnies separated
from longing rabbit mothers
or more angst-filled, old, and bitter yarns
of dead queens and orphan daughters,
and wicked stepmothers intent on the worst
evil not spelled out for tender ears.
Embers cooled, their warm light fading,
as faintest whispers of smoke
wafted up to heaven like spirits
freed from the maple trees in which
they once were trapped.
Stars emerged above, winking
as little heads nod to and fro
fresh air and sunshine having
broken their grasp on wakefulness.
Adults cuddled the drowsy bodies
of their babes fighting sleep
with sand-gritty eyes, asking for me
to tell the stories which
their wee ones begged me to spin.
I know very few, surely someone else
must know more or better tales
to recount around a campfire,
but they badgered me until I yielded
to their scary story demands.
Very well, I said, I'll thread the one
I know the best, the one about
the woman in white who lives nearby
adored by children for her fabulous myths
spun next to hearths while stirring hearts
to pound more fiercely as flames fly high.
Upon which I poked the fire more firmly
checking mesmerized wide dark eyes
before I gently floated away
into the twilit mist over their heads.
Don't ask me for another story
I murmured, the dew's fall upon
their shocked foreheads, their brows
in their hairlines raised by surprise.
I'm afraid this narrative is a bit
difficult to follow with another better.
Perhaps next summer solstice
you can ask me again,
ply me with burnt sugar offerings
and childish supplication.
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 29
Graphic: Howard Ignatius via Flickr
Monday, April 28, 2014
Isabel's Lesson
I was not much older than my daughter
is now, a mere twenty-something girl
who thought she knew much about the world
jaded by all she had already seen
and experienced in her short life.
The book was magical, I thought
as I read it, wondering as I plowed
through deep and shallow fields
of fertile text whether the work
relied upon the silvery Latin tongue
of its beautiful authoress,
or if its perfumed prose owed its
charms to the work of translation.
One line read then was a throw-away,
an old man's passing observation of
women's role in his life.
As a young feminist fed up
with older males pestering me
for a taste, a bite,
some part of my youth
to restore their own vigor
as if I was a talisman,
a magic peach imbued with youth,
I discounted the author's voice
speaking through
the old man who used women.
Now I am an older woman myself
long paired to a now-older man
who both loved women and
utilized them in this life, gifted with a
daughter who has dealt likewise met
men asking for a bit of herself
to ward off the inevitable.
She was less jaded, better prepared
by our long, late night chats
about the nature of hungry men
and their tasty but harried mates.
I will not tell her what I have
finally realized these long years later
about the magical words depicting
the old man who used and loved
the women in his life.
She will learn for herself what
I know is not magic but truth:
The man who loves her far into the future
will rely upon her generosity
to remain the man he yet believes
himself to be.
Her kindness will be magic.
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 28
Graphic: Martin Gommel via Flickr
Sunday, April 27, 2014
Communion
Wood smoke incense hovers
above the cooling water
lapping at the still-warm beach
Oak leaf mould perfumes
the heavy air beneath the trees
surrounding the cottage
Heavy woolen blanket covers
the sand underneath
an altar on which I lie
Stars overhead thicken
as the last of summer sun
dwindles to palest shadow
Moonlit clouds drift across
trailing faintly like waves
mirroring those on the lake
Midnight passes by
on falling stars' tails
that swim through the blue
Mosquitoes whine threats
landing now and again
their bites a sacrifice
This brief but faithful beauty
a sanctuary of season
in which I worship.
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 27
Graphic: Ashley Williams via Flickr
Saturday, April 26, 2014
My Covert Sin
This dirty habit
brown bag wrapped
tucked in the car's trunk
This shameful sneak
collected furtively
purchased with cash
This wretched defect
spirited silently
stashed in the basement
This stealthy pleasure
clandestine creeping
down the rear staircase
This illicit booty
midnights opened
beneath green-shaded lights
This suppressed passion
family discouraged
insomniac indulgence
My secret weakness
enjoyed eagerly
musty antique books
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 26
Graphic: Josh Self via Flickr
Friday, April 25, 2014
In Jest
It's not all fun
this life in colors
It's not a game
this chortle-filled career
My face aches with the torture
a grin permanently forced
in the presence of others
My self-esteem is withered
as painful pratfalls
and messy mockeries
undermine my identity
My redemption is meager
only your happiness
revealed in smiles
salvages my soul
Yet I beg deities' aide
for the hour when laughter
leaves us both for tears
and my worth is but a sneer.
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 25
Graphic: The Court Jester (p. 34), illus. by Margaret Ely Webb, c. 1906 (color by author)
Thursday, April 24, 2014
La Fourche Paris
Worn out by Paris
shoe leather thinned
by ancient cobbles
nerves hectored
by strained tongues
We nested in the quiet
of a sitting room
hidden from avenues
and myriad bistros
calling our names
The destination arrived
at by way of hard work
lucky dart throws
age benchmarks
and the winds' blow
We pondered the questions
who are we
what are we to do
the philosophy of life
crystallized in decisions
Or merely one choice
not many
When coming upon
the fork in the road
recall this:
il n'ya pas de cuillère
there is no spoon.
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 24
Graphic: Bobby Acree via Flickr
shoe leather thinned
by ancient cobbles
nerves hectored
by strained tongues
We nested in the quiet
of a sitting room
hidden from avenues
and myriad bistros
calling our names
The destination arrived
at by way of hard work
lucky dart throws
age benchmarks
and the winds' blow
We pondered the questions
who are we
what are we to do
the philosophy of life
crystallized in decisions
Or merely one choice
not many
When coming upon
the fork in the road
recall this:
il n'ya pas de cuillère
there is no spoon.
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 24
Graphic: Bobby Acree via Flickr
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Something Funny
Elements of humor
are wanted here
But they are rare earth
when requested
Funny only happens
out of context
When one slams the door
not in a face as expected
but on their own foot
Perhaps that's the secret
of producing comedy
on demand
Upend the context
Like missing the step
was no painful accident
merely an invested pratfall
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 23
Graphic: zhouxuan12345678 via Flickr (cropped)
are wanted here
But they are rare earth
when requested
Funny only happens
out of context
When one slams the door
not in a face as expected
but on their own foot
Perhaps that's the secret
of producing comedy
on demand
Upend the context
Like missing the step
was no painful accident
merely an invested pratfall
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 23
Graphic: zhouxuan12345678 via Flickr (cropped)
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Gichigami
This water is heaven on earth
the place where my soul is washed
dipped in its coolness
cleansed of the city
scourged free of urbanity
This fluid is life
the well of my sanity
my body nourished
wherein toxins release
while my thirsts are quenched
I am baptized again
restored to wholeness
If only this liquid power
could do the same for all
But this font of healing spirit
can only work its magic
when we do for it
what it has done for us
We are born of this sea, our mother
as her children we must bear her, too
To save our sorcerous solvent
her potency and purity must be assured.
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 22 Earth Day
Graphic: Julie Falk via Flickr
Monday, April 21, 2014
Destination
This place is familiar
like the flesh on my arm
run over the bone
flush under with blood
This smell is intimate
like the sheets on my bed
worn with night bodies
warm like my home
This sight is precious
like the family cottage
sweet with relief
arrival after long road
This sound is pleasure
like hymns by choir
pulsing with heartbeat
slowed by the moon
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 21
Graphic: jrparaguaya via Flickr
Sunday, April 20, 2014
Inversion
Hair untamed
Schoolwork unsatisfactory
Chores incomplete
Dates jerks
Job unspecified
Aspirations empty
Apartment messy
Boyfriend dork
Work worse
Married moron
Stepchild idiot
House dump
Pregnancy stupid
Child insipid
Career ridiculous
Family absurd
Never accepted
Utter disappointment
Always surprised
Called first
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 20
Graphic: briteside913 via Flickr
Saturday, April 19, 2014
Moving Day
Part of my life
compartmentalized
more so than in reality
when phone calls from friends
interrupt intimacy
and parents' guilt trips
squash truth's response
Part of my life
stuffed in these boxes
more so than I realized
when I have not thought of them
in months and years
when I have long-dried petals
bookmarking sand-flecked pages
Part of my life
outside this container
more than detritus
when not worth a tag in a yard sale
or a passing pang of regret
over a debris field
caught in cardboard
Part of my life
jettisoned at the curb
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 19
Graphic: Cyril Caton via Flickr
Friday, April 18, 2014
Fame
They argue as I if knew them
all their concerns
something I shared
The worries of feminism
and classism, elitism
all heat and light, everywhere
Women from 'round the world
no matter the country
all know me, my works
Men still sneer at me
but that's hardly news
some things don't change, do they?
All I know is that
I had time on my hands
and something to say
A sharpened pen point
an equally sharp wit
and paper on which to acquit
Myself of the bounds
and bonds of this plane
wherein I was merely
a sister named Jane.
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 18
Graphic: Jane Austen as drawn by Cassandra Austen via Wikipedia
Thursday, April 17, 2014
Deformation
No preferred melody
comes to mind
Only rare earworms
infest the space
where a tune belongs
I gave up the notion
of favorite songs
when I gave up
the naive ideal
that love would stay
Memory resides instead
where a love once rested
Only the impression left
like detached notes recalled
from a long ago day
But unlike my mind
which feels merely empty
without favored music
my heart is a cripple
forever shaped around its loss
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 17
Graphic: missteee via Flickr (cropped)
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Oystercatcher
A sea of mystery
dark depths
silent secrets
In salty tears swim
patent pains
familiar fears
He stroked abreast
fixed firm
resolute rigor
The oyster's pearl
quaked, quivering
soft, slick
Its beard split wide
obscure opened
plush plundered
Ocean's rebus resolved
mystic mastered
saline sweet
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 16
Graphic: Grey Line with Black, Blue and Yellow by Georgia O'Keefe (1923) via Wikipaintings
dark depths
silent secrets
In salty tears swim
patent pains
familiar fears
He stroked abreast
fixed firm
resolute rigor
The oyster's pearl
quaked, quivering
soft, slick
Its beard split wide
obscure opened
plush plundered
Ocean's rebus resolved
mystic mastered
saline sweet
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 16
Graphic: Grey Line with Black, Blue and Yellow by Georgia O'Keefe (1923) via Wikipaintings
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Strong Female Characters
Strong female characters are too few
shows the box office data
leading women who kick ass
outnumbered nine to one
by leading men who annoy
by virtue of their ubiquity
in so-called entertainment
Strong female characters are tropes
say others
the concept overused
due to feminism's mainstreaming
the concept inflated
merely a stock item
in so-called popular culture
Strong female characters are too few
in reality
when looking in the corner offices
of corporate crystal palaces
when looking in the administration
of academia's ivory towers
when looking for a name
of feminine nature on a science or technology panel
Strong female characters abound
in truth
when one looks hard
with new eyes in their own home
when observers consider differently
given humanity's origin
when one recognizes
without women's sacrifice and risk
facing inevitable pain and possible death
in birthing us
wiping our asses and noses
guiding our paths to adulthood
there'd be no characters at all.
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 15
Graphic: Photo of mural depicting Isis via Wikipedia
Monday, April 14, 2014
Earthrise
Overhead scales the moon
its light brightening the road ahead
though pallid compared to its warmer brother
and inconstant as observed through time
leaving us for nights in the dark alone
Why are we left with even dimmer companions
much farther away
to light our path home?
We asked ourselves this question for millenia
fighting over conjectures about gods and myths
unsatisfied with evidence about space and physics
While we turn our eyes to the heavens
aiming our lenses upon celestial objects near and far
questions remain unanswered posed as hypotheses and theories
Why are we here on this blue fleck
looking at reflections
cast upon our dwelling?
And who looks back upon this tiny marble
asking for companionship
on their way home?
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 14
Graphic: Earthrise by NASA Apollo 8 astronaut William Anders via Wikipedia
Sunday, April 13, 2014
Le Cauchemar
Moonlit blankets
abed
child tossed
Too-warm sheeting
strewn
youth stressed
Rapid panting
breathed
girl lost
Frozen members
limp
limbs stilled
Night terror
only
not a ghost
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 13
Graphic: The Nightmare by J H Fuseli via Wikipedia
Saturday, April 12, 2014
Without
You ask me
what I cannot live without.
Trite answers filter up
but the truth revealed
upon examination
is that I can live
without most things
and without most people.
I am a product of having gone without.
What I am today is
strength born
of weak moments
when no one helped me to my feet.
Determination created
of graceless times
when others told me failure was mine.
Honesty honed
by faithless fires
when loved ones yielded to their demons.
I cannot imagine
what I would be
had I not been tried
by the things and people
that once had me
that I have since done without.
The better question is
what cannot live without me.
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 12
Graphic: David Singleton via Flickr
what I cannot live without.
Trite answers filter up
but the truth revealed
upon examination
is that I can live
without most things
and without most people.
I am a product of having gone without.
What I am today is
strength born
of weak moments
when no one helped me to my feet.
Determination created
of graceless times
when others told me failure was mine.
Honesty honed
by faithless fires
when loved ones yielded to their demons.
I cannot imagine
what I would be
had I not been tried
by the things and people
that once had me
that I have since done without.
The better question is
what cannot live without me.
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 12
Graphic: David Singleton via Flickr
Friday, April 11, 2014
Le Rêve
Before a mirror
naked
Without context
exposed
Wrapped around me
arms
Grasped my belly
hands
Pressed upon me
man
Warmth from behind
breath
Fecund.
One word alone
whispered
into my ear
What could it mean?
So shocking
it woke me
rousing from torpor
jolting awake
like lightning
in my soul
No more babes to come
it meant not this
My flesh would be slack
ever empty
But what would be birthed?
A decade later
I know the truth
Not all my bearing
is done in labor
Not all my fruits
are born
from my hips
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 11
Graphic: babymellowdee via Flickr
Thursday, April 10, 2014
Green Death
Innocuous, leafy,
tendrils like young girls' curls
tease among the stems
Golden, silky,
Blooms like brass trumpets
announce a change to come
Verdant, greenery,
fruits like fingers stretching
hide beneath the leaves
Enormous, deadly,
enclosed like a bomb's bay
zucchinis in brown bags
The neighbors will never know
what hit them
when they open the payload
left silently in the dark
at their door
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 10
Graphic: outdoorPDK via Flickr
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Schooled
Yellow vest, orange straps, service cap, whistle poised between pursed lips
We're late again, security nonsense corralling too many cars, too much traffic
Sorry, mom (unconvincing)
First row a dozen deep, unmoving
Gloved arms wave, futile overkill like a wind mill in a gale
Second row half dozen stacked, stalled
Arms flop in resignation while the angry whistle blows, wind wound up by waving
Grim black set with pale blue lights, clock on the dashboard whittles down to bell's ring
Throw the dice with the spin of the wheel
Taking the empty third row and all the glares that come with ducking the masses
They'll watch for me tomorrow and harass me, get up on time instead
Yes, mom (unpersuasive)
He jumps from the car and runs as the whistle and gloves are aimed at us
Secure this, I think as I pull away into traffic beneath a fresh green light
Damned kid
We'll do this dance again, too soon
We haven't learned
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 9
Graphic: Leo Reynolds via Flickr
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Time Traveler
The machine built
Calculations made
Dials spun
He sent her forward
His most trusted friend
His life's mate
The machine shook
Computer churned
Travel done
She had come backward
His helpful partner
His new wife
What did she observe
He asked her, excited
Hoping for news
Of the future's marvels
You're still quite selfish
She noted, discouraged
But worse, data shows
Our sons are, too.
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 8
Graphic: CityGypsyII via Flickr
Monday, April 7, 2014
Facts
That April began
With a plane's crash
Hundreds of thousands dead
Somewhat fewer killers
That July ended
Such pathetic reaction
A stunned world's witness
In ridiculous silence
This April marks
With sad resignation
Twenty years of
Inaction and ignorance
These facts are
Stubborn things
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 7
Inspiration: Speech by Robert Kagame on Rwandan Massacre's 20th anniversary
"...[L]es faits sont têtus."
Graphic: washuugenius via Flickr (modified)
Sunday, April 6, 2014
Nyx and Eos
Laurel rimmed
Glossy darkness
Limns dusk descending
Fading
Night's fall
Womb dark
Warmly embraces
Blanketing, time's pall
Sleeping
'Til dawn
Saffron led
Rosy lightness
Brightens light rousing
Waking
Day's song
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 6
Graphic: Femme Malheureuse
Glossy darkness
Limns dusk descending
Fading
Night's fall
Womb dark
Warmly embraces
Blanketing, time's pall
Sleeping
'Til dawn
Saffron led
Rosy lightness
Brightens light rousing
Waking
Day's song
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 6
Graphic: Femme Malheureuse
Saturday, April 5, 2014
Allez Chanson
It's okay, it'll be all right
I chanted once
after a bad dream
It's okay, it'll be all right
I panted twice
during a birthing
It's okay, it'll be all right
I counted thrice
because they left me
It might not be true
I may be alone
Can't count on you
So mote it be
Thy will be done
Prayers and pleading
Fail me
But I keep my head down
Grit my teeth hard
Believe in myself
I'll see it through.
It's okay, it'll be all right
I screamed once
after a bum scene
It's okay, it'll be all right
I shouted once
during a day dream
It's okay, it'll be all right
Going like hell
I see the light's green
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 5
Graphic: Leo Reynolds via Flickr
Friday, April 4, 2014
Gratia
Soprano woven beauty
spun on
magic emerged
round and round
over and over
Sang to me
a lullabye
offering childish joy
and comfort
How was I to know
it was a portent
a promise that hailed
far into the future?
And now backward
beauty reaches
past reminder
future lost
but grace discovered
in farewell
sung for you
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 4
Inspiration: Schubert's Ave Maria (Latin)
Graphic: zeldman via Flickr - modified
Thursday, April 3, 2014
Scion
Winging here and there
he is bright light
a golden presence
fleeting
Only once and caught
he was slack shadow
a hidden herald
moving
Kicking thus and slow
he was sleep's wake
a potent promise
waiting
Birthed once and out
he is wild whim
a distracted angel
crying
Stealing mine and more
he is great glee
a soul thief
offspring
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 3
Inspiration: Page 22, House of the Spirits, by Isabel Allende
Graphic: shazbot via Flickr
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Unregrettable
The lure was sweet
Sensual
Seductive
The scent was hellish
Heady
Heavenly
The texture was unctuous
Unearthly
Unrelenting
The taste was rich
Romantic
Releasing
Please understand
I could not help myself
Caving in like a
Broken lawn chair
I'm so sorry
For breaching
Your faith in me
But I don't regret
Eating your chocolate
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 2
Graphic: sarahxic via Flickr
Sensual
Seductive
The scent was hellish
Heady
Heavenly
The texture was unctuous
Unearthly
Unrelenting
The taste was rich
Romantic
Releasing
Please understand
I could not help myself
Caving in like a
Broken lawn chair
I'm so sorry
For breaching
Your faith in me
But I don't regret
Eating your chocolate
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 2
Graphic: sarahxic via Flickr
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Taken
It takes years
of empty evenings
It takes decades
of unanswered calls
It takes dozens
of counseling sessions
It takes many
too many explanations
It takes one
but one lucid moment
To realize
the single lonely truth
It takes little
to realize
You've taken it
all of it with you.
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 1
Graphic: joshwept via Flickr
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)