Where?

We climb so high
eager souls knowing
the only way down is up,
backwards
like corporate ladders we climb,
some choosing the miles high in the sky
buildings that make us so small
as we stare up into the clouds
knowing that somewhere up there
the ants are busy
scurrying around
moving and shaking
through necessity or need.
Where has the laughter gone?
I gaze at images expecting to see
what was put in the mind as a child,
that only the young can have fun
laughing and being
the innocence always kept as long as it could
for as we grew up
did we fear the falling down part?
Yet I see the faces
etched in smiles and joy
so many years ago it seems
when people had dreams
and the desire to stay young forever,
going up to come down
as the wind broke into our faces
away we went
spinning and sliding and free
to just be
but times have come
and so much has changed
with the onset of fear replacing
the freedom to let go,
to hear the sound of laughter on air
and the timid voice saying please,
can we go again, just once more?
Or a knock at the door
and a trick or treat heard from beyond
by a single child watched
by the horde at the end of the driveway,
on alert
lest the bogey man comes calling on the other side.

I was looking at pictures of a slide at Coney Island? must have been back in the day due to the dress, and there were so many images and I was taken aback to see that all of the shots I saw, were of adults having fun. When did we stop? Halloween saw 7 trick or treaters. When I was a child back in my old hometown, we would have to go out and buy more candy as we would go through the 300 pieces of chocolates bought for the night, 300! The times they are a’changing…..sigh.

The eve of the cat

Moon hangs bright above,
swollen orb watching like a giant eye,
shadows guiding the branches like skeletal fingers
grasping as we find our way
in the darkness we hear her purr.
She moves in between the dark and light
memories of childhood
gleeful fright,
soft and seductive her voice calls forth
sharp nails catch on silky drapes
shredding the strings
she happily plays.
The moods shifting in and out
bringing a smile, perhaps a pout
and costumes betray no curve or ounce
we crawled on all fours being
as stealthy as she,
as the masked crusaders tried
to capture their prey
she toyed so artfully
yet often foiled,
till next time kids
we’d sigh and dream
of heroes and villains
and knowing that it wasn’t real,
took pleasure in playing all of the parts,
when innocence was the easiest art
and we could be everyone
wearing our masks,
till night came to call
Happy Halloween to all
and live and laugh
be all of that and more,
but I will wear my tail
and whiskers too perhaps
after of course,
my cat nap.

Image of my favorite cat lady of all time….meow….purr…..

FlAsHbAcKs

My mother and your mother were hanging up clothes,
but no punch in the nose
over said clothes
that flapped in the breeze,
and did they make cheese
in a churn in the basement
where the canning jars lay,
filled with dead spiders and webs
till the flood swept them away
with library books that were never returned,
soppy sponges of required reading
when To Kill a Mockingbird was acceptable,
and now Harper Lee lay tired
in a five dollar bin,
the Wal-Mart specials stacked and falling over
by hands that dig searching
for something perhaps found
or not.
My mother and your mother were never together
hanging up clothes
as the houses were set too far apart
and the times were simple
riding our bikes on country roads
as we drank our Dr Peppers by the creek
and growing bored returned home
to hear the arguing
the words that never seemed to end
but we carried our paper origami games
because we wanted to pick rightly,
the name of the boy we would wed,
but roses are red and violets are blue
I still remember
and hope you do too,
somewhere in this world I like to think
you remember me fondly,
the childhood friend who moved away,
who could never settle
with my soda in my bag
and the wind in my hair,
my mother and your mother….
what color was the blood?
I always chose blue
seemingly less real.

A steady stream of consciousness poem for you folks today. Was reminded of those little paper games that we played as children, you’d flip the tab of your choice and ultimately would find out the name of the boy you’d marry. I don’t know why that memory surfaced but gave it a go. The image was the closest I could find to the paper thingy we played with….stirring up the ghosts for sure 🙂