by Rochelle
© July 2010
The office serpentine
Crawls across my desk
Leaving a trail
Of deadlines
While the clock on the wall
Casts her shadow
And sighs:
"Last call"
Collated reports and general ledgers
Fall like autumn leaves
To their blue, plastic
Graves below
As laughter resists
Rising above the silent maze
To penetrate an offensive, fluorescent mist
On goes the buzz
The click, and the hummmmm
In the land of mechanical creatures
Where caffeine and nicotine breaks
Are seen draining life at the water cooler
Gradually replace the talk
Around the campfire
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Where Will You Play Tomorrow
by Rochelle Cunningham
© 2008
Boiling a guilt slurry
Stirring life, shackles
Untied through broken
Lead – click click
Choking on rot of rising
Pride. Smell
Of red finger nail
Polish behind a dusty screen door
Waving good-bye, crook in the knee
Watching an El Camino
In a rearview dream
Guitar strings
Hammer out permission of
Fights; flights; and cats
In the cradle
You can still cut my French toast for me
Unscrupulous teddy bear! Troublesome
Light shatters the turning pages
Will I ever wake to see you
Watching over me? You were
Right. I should have always
Let you be
Right next to me
Clawing…
Away at my inside
Pang pang on the glass, step on the gas
Rescue her from the cracks
She could never understand
Envied instead – a search for truth
That came to be
How I needed Them both
There: they’re inside of me
© 2008
Boiling a guilt slurry
Stirring life, shackles
Untied through broken
Lead – click click
Choking on rot of rising
Pride. Smell
Of red finger nail
Polish behind a dusty screen door
Waving good-bye, crook in the knee
Watching an El Camino
In a rearview dream
Guitar strings
Hammer out permission of
Fights; flights; and cats
In the cradle
You can still cut my French toast for me
Unscrupulous teddy bear! Troublesome
Light shatters the turning pages
Will I ever wake to see you
Watching over me? You were
Right. I should have always
Let you be
Right next to me
Clawing…
Away at my inside
Pang pang on the glass, step on the gas
Rescue her from the cracks
She could never understand
Envied instead – a search for truth
That came to be
How I needed Them both
There: they’re inside of me
Bibles & Hymn Books exchanged by my parents when they were married in 1968.
Lady LesBois
by Rochelle Cunningham
© 2008
Wrinkles appear; pronounced.
Her epoch hands
surround a tranquil valley.
Dingy nylons sag
Around the waist
of barren foothills.
Cotton. Old jewelry.
Clings tightly to fading
Bronzed skin.
Rose buds covet lingering
pink – a silken sleep
is coming. The wind is waltzing
Pinning gray hair back.
Having already packed
And moved away
to Arizona. Returning next year
Fingernails painted green
to cradle her tender valley.
© 2008
Wrinkles appear; pronounced.
Her epoch hands
surround a tranquil valley.
Dingy nylons sag
Around the waist
of barren foothills.
Cotton. Old jewelry.
Clings tightly to fading
Bronzed skin.
Rose buds covet lingering
pink – a silken sleep
is coming. The wind is waltzing
Pinning gray hair back.
Having already packed
And moved away
to Arizona. Returning next year
Fingernails painted green
to cradle her tender valley.
The Island
by Rochelle Cunningham
© 2007
We discovered each other
On the shifting tides. Before long
I invite you to share my island
Contentment dappled the sand
The breeze whispered calm with Jasmine
A vague scent of future would catch us
Waltzing in the consenting moonlight
Initially embracing pleasure – we come
To share our dreams. They seem to fit
As we talk of sailing away
Eventually. To unfold in loves admission
Then – out of your darkness
Came a shovel - you thrust it
Into my hands: Together we’ll build a better Island!
Reluctantly – I agree
I watch your words reverberate and slither
Down the poised cliffs beyond
Who hold their breath and arch their backs while
I choke on the sounds of their rumble
Confused. As my treasures
Already I have given freely, begin to
Hide beneath unnerving silhouettes. While
Hedonistic desires strangle the salty air
A handle lies dead across my palm. I tighten
My grip and asphyxiate my senses who
Screech from behind painted feathers
Now headed for higher ground
A murky shadow crawls across the narrow
Strip of beach and I hear your voice. This time
Through a peculiar rain: I will take care of our dreams
– If you will trust me
And I did.
And time swept over the island – while I stood
Helpless. Watching your promises wither
The fleshy palm trees. Your lies fill the holes
Where the innocent sand crabs used to play
Yet shamefully beside you
Apprehensively hopeful – I find myself
Powerless to the vitality escaping me.
I continue to dig
With callused hands
Aching back. Emptied soul. I watch
A receding tide with confused
Desperation. I beg of you to relent
A melancholic moon has been watching.
She casts an unfavorable light on your nakedness
While you stand - shovel in hand
Promising - - - promising to stop
But I am too exhausted to continue on
I weep while your blackness engulfs my island
I feel all essence collapsed and burning
You are going to swallow me alive
– I swim away
I did not know.
I loved a Pirate.
© 2007
We discovered each other
On the shifting tides. Before long
I invite you to share my island
Contentment dappled the sand
The breeze whispered calm with Jasmine
A vague scent of future would catch us
Waltzing in the consenting moonlight
Initially embracing pleasure – we come
To share our dreams. They seem to fit
As we talk of sailing away
Eventually. To unfold in loves admission
Then – out of your darkness
Came a shovel - you thrust it
Into my hands: Together we’ll build a better Island!
Reluctantly – I agree
I watch your words reverberate and slither
Down the poised cliffs beyond
Who hold their breath and arch their backs while
I choke on the sounds of their rumble
Confused. As my treasures
Already I have given freely, begin to
Hide beneath unnerving silhouettes. While
Hedonistic desires strangle the salty air
A handle lies dead across my palm. I tighten
My grip and asphyxiate my senses who
Screech from behind painted feathers
Now headed for higher ground
A murky shadow crawls across the narrow
Strip of beach and I hear your voice. This time
Through a peculiar rain: I will take care of our dreams
– If you will trust me
And I did.
And time swept over the island – while I stood
Helpless. Watching your promises wither
The fleshy palm trees. Your lies fill the holes
Where the innocent sand crabs used to play
Yet shamefully beside you
Apprehensively hopeful – I find myself
Powerless to the vitality escaping me.
I continue to dig
With callused hands
Aching back. Emptied soul. I watch
A receding tide with confused
Desperation. I beg of you to relent
A melancholic moon has been watching.
She casts an unfavorable light on your nakedness
While you stand - shovel in hand
Promising - - - promising to stop
But I am too exhausted to continue on
I weep while your blackness engulfs my island
I feel all essence collapsed and burning
You are going to swallow me alive
– I swim away
I did not know.
I loved a Pirate.
Anthony and Rochelle; Oregon Coast 2005
A Delicate Breath
by Rochelle Cunningham
© 2008
It was a day like today. It felt like babies smell.
Innocence reeking of a peculiar stench. Feeling
Of a strong desire to be
With someone like you.
Knowledge cascades over the daylight. Distorted. Begging. Clawing.
Hanging on my spine, until a brief sigh
On the westward wind tunnels an escape.
I watched your name tip-toe across yellow tulips. I whisper it
Quickly to myself, looking about to see
If they heard me
Sober shadows protect me while I slip away
Somewhere I shouldn’t. The damp grass is a pillow
Of reminiscence, somewhere in time
With someone like you
Reflections remain planted
Firmly in their prints – refusing to surrender. I wait
For eyes Tender blue. Summer green. Please, not of drowning brown.
The wilting moss knows my pain as I raise my face to be
Welcomed; in some truth of the day. Instead, received
By a muted rain – appearing
Before me, where I smell a moment of trust.
Through a delicate breath
On a day like today
With someone like you
© 2008
It was a day like today. It felt like babies smell.
Innocence reeking of a peculiar stench. Feeling
Of a strong desire to be
With someone like you.
Knowledge cascades over the daylight. Distorted. Begging. Clawing.
Hanging on my spine, until a brief sigh
On the westward wind tunnels an escape.
I watched your name tip-toe across yellow tulips. I whisper it
Quickly to myself, looking about to see
If they heard me
Sober shadows protect me while I slip away
Somewhere I shouldn’t. The damp grass is a pillow
Of reminiscence, somewhere in time
With someone like you
Reflections remain planted
Firmly in their prints – refusing to surrender. I wait
For eyes Tender blue. Summer green. Please, not of drowning brown.
The wilting moss knows my pain as I raise my face to be
Welcomed; in some truth of the day. Instead, received
By a muted rain – appearing
Before me, where I smell a moment of trust.
Through a delicate breath
On a day like today
With someone like you
Photo by Anthony
Your Mother's Secrets
by Rochelle Cunningham
© 2008
In your youth, you may not understand
But someday these words in time
Will weigh more than ever before.
Take a moment to look into the eyes
Of your mother. See her secrets,
The quiet whispers that rest on her lips.
If you are lucky – she will unlock this place where you
Are not tall enough to see over. Only she can decide
What hush-hushes are hers.
If she stirs her heart for you to listen --- then listen
These moments are more precious than stories
Untold. Know she has invited you
To a place you may never
Fully appreciate; part of something
You may never understand. Know
That she has been to places,
Experienced many things.
She has lived in ways
That you may come to see her
Differently. Understand her – more deeply. Love her
More freely. For make no mistake,
Some day the gate will surely close. She will stand
On the other side: wave good bye. Did you come to know –
All there is to know?
She’ll be gone – and you left with questions
That can no longer be answered. If you would
Have only looked into
Her eyes. Gather those fortunate days
When she will say: Come sit by my side,
I have something to tell you.
© 2008
In your youth, you may not understand
But someday these words in time
Will weigh more than ever before.
Take a moment to look into the eyes
Of your mother. See her secrets,
The quiet whispers that rest on her lips.
If you are lucky – she will unlock this place where you
Are not tall enough to see over. Only she can decide
What hush-hushes are hers.
If she stirs her heart for you to listen --- then listen
These moments are more precious than stories
Untold. Know she has invited you
To a place you may never
Fully appreciate; part of something
You may never understand. Know
That she has been to places,
Experienced many things.
She has lived in ways
That you may come to see her
Differently. Understand her – more deeply. Love her
More freely. For make no mistake,
Some day the gate will surely close. She will stand
On the other side: wave good bye. Did you come to know –
All there is to know?
She’ll be gone – and you left with questions
That can no longer be answered. If you would
Have only looked into
Her eyes. Gather those fortunate days
When she will say: Come sit by my side,
I have something to tell you.
Yellow Roses of Pearl, Idaho
Small Town Eyes
by Rochelle Cunningham
© 2008
I moved away, several times in fact
The new still feeling the same
As though Columbus had already arrived
Again; smoggy sunset evenings painted iridescent
All of which they had long ago decided
To trade for blue.
Strangers became neighbors. Friends
With a different view
Would say to me,
It never used to be this way.
Some spoke of concrete
Growing in the night
And the iron jaws
Contracted to eat away--
Gluttonous appetites devouring
What history survived
The marsh lands gone under an echo
Of red parking lights and Java neon
And I hear them say,
It never used to be this way.
And what of the farmers’ rows? A beauty smelling
Of plastic and carbon blue. As the awnings
Hold hands with yellow lines and stare out at you.
But I thought it fine – as I look around
Quiet. Polished. Available. Conveniently dead.
When I return to my home town
I catch myself taking it all in
And still disbelieving.
I feel myself say,
It never use to be to be this way.
© 2008
I moved away, several times in fact
The new still feeling the same
As though Columbus had already arrived
Again; smoggy sunset evenings painted iridescent
All of which they had long ago decided
To trade for blue.
Strangers became neighbors. Friends
With a different view
Would say to me,
It never used to be this way.
Some spoke of concrete
Growing in the night
And the iron jaws
Contracted to eat away--
Gluttonous appetites devouring
What history survived
The marsh lands gone under an echo
Of red parking lights and Java neon
And I hear them say,
It never used to be this way.
And what of the farmers’ rows? A beauty smelling
Of plastic and carbon blue. As the awnings
Hold hands with yellow lines and stare out at you.
But I thought it fine – as I look around
Quiet. Polished. Available. Conveniently dead.
When I return to my home town
I catch myself taking it all in
And still disbelieving.
I feel myself say,
It never use to be to be this way.
Oregon Lake: 2007
Switzerland
by Rochelle Cunningham
© 2007
Watch the brilliant teal serpent
Threading a sigh
Meandering through gardens of towns
folk
Toppled devotion – organic generations
Of perfect harmony. Cultivated rows
Entwined in silken soil
Listen – jazz softly rises up from
courtyards; tears
Fall on archaic structures
Of gold – and God; where thousand-year-old fingers
Carved overwhelmingly – stealing their faith.
Crimson petals twist
and pour
Out of discernible window boxes
Onto slate green streets
below. Above
The Alps tower with snow-caps
Peering down on bullion rooftops.
Jeweled windows of painted faces
Looking out from the ubiquitous Clock Tower
See. Even the
Elderly steal a kiss – or a moment
On a park bench and watch
As a teal river
Slithers
quietly
past.
Barred
by Rochelle Cunningham
© 2008
They took you away
In handcuffs today
In the boat,
On the water,
Under a reservoir sky.
I get in my car
And buckle down
Through three
County lines,
Foothills and fog
Coming down
Old Freezout Way—
All that space
so much
Space
I reached for your hand
Prevention
Shares a pillow
Asleep
in a room
You once called out ‘Next to,’
And you
In your cold cell
Call
collect
To say that you’re fine.
Our family lies
Through a telephone line.
So this
is home for awhile?
Really?
When I laugh
I hear – in my head first, the reverb,
The long hour fielding shadows,
Walking
the worn path
Of old carpet. I was with you today
And hardly--
Alone in my head,
in a car port,
In hallway instead, awaiting
The next time we embrace
In distant cold.
Detached
and bound
through strangling wire
Jake, Rochelle, Pop, Mom, & Dub
Christmas in Pearl '06
Christmas in Pearl '06
67 In Pearl
67 In Pearl
I watch, as you plant Iris’s down your driveway
Tomorrow we celebrate the day of your Birth
Granted more time for lessons and stories
Unwrapped by those who come to listen
Another year of your footsteps upon this Earth
An occasion worthy of reflection and gratitude
Coveting the future minutes, we may not Get
Able to share in the splendor of our love
Uncertain of birthdays to come
Each moment lived in its fullest – no intent of Regret
A whisper in the wind reminds me to thank you
For all the fires you’ve built to keep us Warm
To honor – you… who gave me life
If not for your breath
I would not have one of my Own
Rich beyond measure, I sit on a carpet of green
Planted with your old Hoe
At night I rest my weary head
In a home built of two weathered hands
By a great man I have come to Know
My provider, my protector, my mentor, my Pop
The man who knows only of Giving
Do you know what a strong and gentle creature
You are? You who carries a torch of kindness
For those who have passed, and those still Living?
Today I knew joy - as I held the sheets to my face
The ones that dried in the summer breeze of Pearl
Seizing another moment of gratitude
You have created more than just a dwelling for us
But an entire World
I wish you Happy Birthday and offer my many thanks
Birds and crickets, lakes and lizards –your vision for living, I share too
For all the little moments taken to cherish each other
They will remind me for lifetimes to come
Of how much I dearly love
and appreciate you.
June 29, 2009
A Fall From Grace
by Rochelle Cunningham
© 2009
First on the scene, the last one in bed.
Right up to the edge, and left at the next chance.
Tomorrow may not wait – will you?
Like a promise hanging from the back of your throat.
When the wailing ends, tears dry in a wrinkled trench.
What if the cure is worse than the disease.
Is it time to let go? Time to watch it disappear, to fall from grace?
Death whispers, like an icy breath on the back of my neck.
The more I learn, the less I understand.
And emptiness fills the hollow spaces of my mind.
Lifting the skirt of life, exposing her secrets.
Bind the pale light with a knitted lead ribbon.
Guitar strings break the rhythm, and darkness bleeds through.
So let it go. It’s time to let go, to disappear from grace.
Come back home, come to mama. This time you’ve gone too far.
Conversations never happen, secrets die between the lines.
It only matters if it’s true.
Fill in the blank spaces with smoke, with gentle smolder.
Wake up! You drifted off to sleep in a heat wave
Who wanders around in a brown sugar desert, dripping of humility?
Let go. You have to let go, to fall from grace.
I don’t have it anymore, it ran through my fingers long ago.
Messages a million miles a minute, trampling our souls.
With heavy hearts they ride around on iron butterfly wings.
And charm and grace were last seen playing alone.
Lost in a moment, dripping like honey from a rain barrel.
Lick the blood from your lips, and hold your cards up.
It’s time to let go. It’s time to fall… to fall from grace.
© 2009
First on the scene, the last one in bed.
Right up to the edge, and left at the next chance.
Tomorrow may not wait – will you?
Like a promise hanging from the back of your throat.
When the wailing ends, tears dry in a wrinkled trench.
What if the cure is worse than the disease.
Is it time to let go? Time to watch it disappear, to fall from grace?
Death whispers, like an icy breath on the back of my neck.
The more I learn, the less I understand.
And emptiness fills the hollow spaces of my mind.
Lifting the skirt of life, exposing her secrets.
Bind the pale light with a knitted lead ribbon.
Guitar strings break the rhythm, and darkness bleeds through.
So let it go. It’s time to let go, to disappear from grace.
Come back home, come to mama. This time you’ve gone too far.
Conversations never happen, secrets die between the lines.
It only matters if it’s true.
Fill in the blank spaces with smoke, with gentle smolder.
Wake up! You drifted off to sleep in a heat wave
Who wanders around in a brown sugar desert, dripping of humility?
Let go. You have to let go, to fall from grace.
I don’t have it anymore, it ran through my fingers long ago.
Messages a million miles a minute, trampling our souls.
With heavy hearts they ride around on iron butterfly wings.
And charm and grace were last seen playing alone.
Lost in a moment, dripping like honey from a rain barrel.
Lick the blood from your lips, and hold your cards up.
It’s time to let go. It’s time to fall… to fall from grace.
Let It Rise
by Rochelle Cunningham
© 2009
This conversation is over
No need to seek your guidance
Your opinion is nothing to me
Turn it upside down, shake it out
Whatever falls to the ground
Will lead me, back to you
For years I envied you
Looked to you for direction, for guidance
Who are you? Who are you?
Let it ride, let it rise.
The smoke will clear… no point in looking back.
A new day – A new day will appear.
The last one out, shut off the fucking lights
Don’t forget to feed the dog
We won’t be back to see you off
Tire tracks in the snow will lead us to you
If you could just stand still
Fingers clenched around a long-neck bottle
Because the last one standing does not win
We just let him think he will
Who are you? Who in the hell do you think you are?
Let it ride, let it rise.
The smoke will clear… no point in looking back.
A new day – A new day will appear.
Alone in your head, alone at our table.
Get past the holes in my face, the color on my back.
You've already painted the spaces foul
Your judging lips lead me to you
Sleepless nights help me to see
It will never be the same as it was before
Gotta catch the truth before it disappears
Convictions that hiss with laughter
Who are you? Who are you supposto be?
Let it ride, let it rise.
The smoke will clear…
There’s no point in looking back…
Because in another day, you will appear to me
© 2009
This conversation is over
No need to seek your guidance
Your opinion is nothing to me
Turn it upside down, shake it out
Whatever falls to the ground
Will lead me, back to you
For years I envied you
Looked to you for direction, for guidance
Who are you? Who are you?
Let it ride, let it rise.
The smoke will clear… no point in looking back.
A new day – A new day will appear.
The last one out, shut off the fucking lights
Don’t forget to feed the dog
We won’t be back to see you off
Tire tracks in the snow will lead us to you
If you could just stand still
Fingers clenched around a long-neck bottle
Because the last one standing does not win
We just let him think he will
Who are you? Who in the hell do you think you are?
Let it ride, let it rise.
The smoke will clear… no point in looking back.
A new day – A new day will appear.
Alone in your head, alone at our table.
Get past the holes in my face, the color on my back.
You've already painted the spaces foul
Your judging lips lead me to you
Sleepless nights help me to see
It will never be the same as it was before
Gotta catch the truth before it disappears
Convictions that hiss with laughter
Who are you? Who are you supposto be?
Let it ride, let it rise.
The smoke will clear…
There’s no point in looking back…
Because in another day, you will appear to me
Vanish
by Rochelle Cunningham
© 2009
I can’t escape… Everything reminds me.
Blessed be my disappearance. Until
The panic chills me awake. I can not see.
I cannot breathe when you are near.
Swallow a bitter taste of sweetness
That lingers in the morning shadows,
Slicing through the delicate layers
Of One trying to live on love alone.
The pain comes,
The pain goes.
Eros fed it to my soul, I starved
I started over.
© 2009
I can’t escape… Everything reminds me.
Blessed be my disappearance. Until
The panic chills me awake. I can not see.
I cannot breathe when you are near.
Swallow a bitter taste of sweetness
That lingers in the morning shadows,
Slicing through the delicate layers
Of One trying to live on love alone.
The pain comes,
The pain goes.
Eros fed it to my soul, I starved
I started over.
Virtual Fantasy
by Rochelle Cunningham
©January 2010
I remember some things...
About an old lover. Familiar
Electric currents
Pass incognito, beneath my covers
Hearing his laugh unchanged
Nor his walk, nor his wit
I can still feel his mouth - There
On the back of my neck
And I feel him infect me
From behind his duality
Leaving my mind & breast
Trying to out-run this - My fantasy
Stealing a moment to see him
Curious, I take another peek
Allowing myself the thrill
Cautious of what I seek
Hearing familiar sounds
That would have taken us away
Trembling with a heat and frenzy
Still seeing that long, stretch of highway
Careful to control my desire. As it merges
Into wreck-less abandon
Aware of my stinging black tail
That transforms not, into a dark phantom
Deep in my thoughts
I glimpse an obscure future
It is beginning to smell - And taste
Of this ... My past lover
~ R
©January 2010
I remember some things...
About an old lover. Familiar
Electric currents
Pass incognito, beneath my covers
Hearing his laugh unchanged
Nor his walk, nor his wit
I can still feel his mouth - There
On the back of my neck
And I feel him infect me
From behind his duality
Leaving my mind & breast
Trying to out-run this - My fantasy
Stealing a moment to see him
Curious, I take another peek
Allowing myself the thrill
Cautious of what I seek
Hearing familiar sounds
That would have taken us away
Trembling with a heat and frenzy
Still seeing that long, stretch of highway
Careful to control my desire. As it merges
Into wreck-less abandon
Aware of my stinging black tail
That transforms not, into a dark phantom
Deep in my thoughts
I glimpse an obscure future
It is beginning to smell - And taste
Of this ... My past lover
~ R
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)