Present Peace

Santa surprises

merry mischief

candy cane kisses

love eyes glitter

Italian lights

dark fades

for the light of the world

hearts beating

one loud rhythm

one song

Silent Night

holy

a nanosecond

of illusive calm

in children’s eyes

in adults’ eyes

the child

stacked presents

steps of love

climb to touch heaven

bring peace down to earth

in the silence

finding

no need

to reach.

© 2010 by Joyce Mason

All Rights Reserved

joycemason.com

Photo Credit: Christmas Love © Les3photo8 | Dreamstime.com

The Church of Snow

By Guest Poet Tony Vowles

A whole city adrift
and we become washerwomen;
fretting and gossiping, running and jumping,
talking to neighbours and shovelling.
As the church of snow hymns
across the rickety divides,
levelling its white thud.
And it moves me, the peace of it,
the promethean warmth.
Like a smile from a stranger.

© 2010 by Tony Vowles

All Rights Reserved

theastrologyblog.com

Photo Credit: Woman Shoveling © Andrew Jalbert | Dreamstime.com

Angry Young Men

old lovers

long friends

angry young men

now depressed

on fast forward

aging

corded to my heart

draw optimism

and healing

ask first

without ever saying

the words

or knowing they want it

treasure my life force

touch my chi like thin china cups

of immortality

so gentle

their souls are tissue paper

to wrap the present

their sadness, losses

touch me

their view of the finish line

of life

I’m grateful

to live

grateful to give

grateful to honor our history

to be there for them.

© 2010 by Joyce Mason

All Rights Reserved

joycemason.com

Photo Credit: Cup of Tea © Diavata Dreamstime.com

Feast

 We hugged every high hill
in San Francisco
tasting the world
in a fast stroll
climbing cement sidewalks
you eating eggs
at a breakfast
where I ate you with my eyes.

Later, we gobbled up
the radio waves in the car
chewing on California Girls
swallowing the bay
and planning our next meal
unbeknownst
to the Chinese check-out clerk
charging Safeway
with our bill of fare.

Not even
the museum
the Cannery
nor Ben Johnson’s
knew what we were going through
as we gluttonized
our particular piece
of the universe
in ravenous recourse
to the miserable malnutrition
we knew before Tiburon.

Not Bob, nor Victor,
nor the few human characters
dropping in for dinner
suspected this mad meal,
not even that crazy black cat.

Not even God Himself
noticed the teethmarks
we left on that week
or the empty cupboard
in the clouds.



© 2010 by Joyce Mason

All Rights Reserved

joycemason.com

Photo Credit: Contemplating a Beautiful City © Celsodiniz  Dreamstime.com

No Cry But a Quicksand

I threw myself down

buried my head

in a caseless pillow

A primordial ooze

melted down my cheek

in death    procession    pace

my face gorged in mascara molasses

crawling too slowly

down my arm

no cry but a quicksand

of gooshing

melodramatics

The Good Angel shouldered a smirk betting the devil
which drop would win.

© 2010 by Joyce Mason

All Rights Reserved

joycemason.com

Author's Note: No Cry but a Quicksand  is part of a three-poem trilogy I call The Sanity Poems, which also include Today I Saran Wrapped My Sanity and The Glass Blower and the Goat.

The Glassblower and the Goat

Watch the glasssblower

spin my sanity thin.

See my knees go weak.

Strange, that man

works on my head

in daytime nightmares

of panic mirage.

Thus cut, now tinkling

in air-conditioned breeze

my Chinese windchimes

balance

trembles in fragile fear

of a goat to come

rushing in

crushing

no tin-can in his terror teeth

comes bucking

shattering

masticating   (glass)    me.

© 2010 by Joyce Mason
All Rights Reserved
joycemason.com

Photo Credit: Forming the Glass © Ahmet Ihsan Ariturk Dreamstime.com


Author's Note: The Glass Blower and the Goat is part of a three-poem trilogy I call The Sanity Poems, which begin with Today I Saran Wrapped My Sanity and end with No Cry but a Quicksand.

Today I Saran Wrapped My Sanity and Unplugged the Refrigerator

You can see right through it
and it never sticks
like it says it should
(reminds me of men I have known)
so I stuck it in the icebox, pulled the plug, and hoped.

I think I just saw it oozing
toward my big toe.
Mixed with the grape
popsicle juice
and the smell of stale fish,
it almost looks green.

Guess I gotta clean it up
or move my foot.




© 2010 by Joyce Mason
All Rights Reserved
joycemason.com

Author's Note: Today I Saran Wrapped My Sanity is part of a three-poem trilogy I call The Sanity Poems, which also include No Cry but a Quicksand and The Glass Blower and the Goat