? wood fire ?

I’m having trouble focusing on my writing lately.  I find it easier to keep my desk neat, open the mail, and pay the bills.  It’s not easy to open my poem drafts and get in the zone.  I am struggling to keep to my “every six days” schedule of posting a poem portion.

 

Here are four lines that I wrote days before spring, which, of course, aren’t complete, yet.  I think the title might be “wood fire”:

 

the woods are lit

not with sugar maple fire

lit with paprika smoke

perhaps pimento spice

 

© 15 March 2021

Cindy B. Stevens

#Art #ArtlixirPoetry #DarkPoetry #IGPoetry #IGPoets #InstaPoetry #Life #LovePoetry #MicroPoetry #Poem #Poet #Poetry #PoetryCommunity #PoetryGram #PoetryIsLife #PoetryIsNotDead #PoetryLovers #PoetryOfig #PoetryOfInstagram #PoetryPorn #PoetSociety #PoetsOfInstagram #SpilledInk #VeinHeartArtisans #Wordsmith #Writer #WritersOfInstagram #Writing

 

Photo credit:  yifei-chen-xG_C2BwknDY-unsplash

unrequited

“unrequited” is in NAKED, my chapbook, published by Main Street Rag:

Lester grieves for me

winds his sorrow as a winter scarf around his neck

its tendrils drape across his chest

he cries while his father hugs him

my sister is too dignified

to let tears soak her peach silk blouse

 

I watch the scene from my mirror

roll my eyes

canned music bleeds through speakers

believers raise their hands like sunshined flowers

 

there was no coin to purchase my funeral dress

so I wrapped myself with a deathbed sheet

its drape shrouds my bones

casket closed

 

I float the coffee bean aroma through wallpapered rooms

it fails to veil old lady perfumes, sweat, and aftershaves

my Irish linen tablecloth is stained with spilt tea

littered with cookie and sandwich crumbs

 

Lester walks in the kitchen to grab a banana

but they have leaked their ripeness

not even good for breads or cakes

sticky chocolate-like goo congeals at the bottom of the fruit bowl

 

my hair swept to one side

Lester dreams I kiss him

dark glasses sunscreen my eyes

my sheet sweeps dust bunnies across the plank floor

I carry his unrequited heart in my hand

try not to squeeze as I tiptoe from his bedroom

 

god, I need a Bellini

I listen for the dismissal bell

find the exit sign

I look for me, but I have flown

 

© 2018

Cindy B. Stevens

#Art #ArtlixirPoetry #DarkPoetry #IGPoetry #IGPoets #InstaPoetry #Life #LovePoetry #MicroPoetry #Poem #Poet #Poetry #PoetryCommunity #PoetryGram #PoetryIsLife #PoetryIsNotDead #PoetryLovers #PoetryOfig #PoetryOfInstagram #PoetryPorn #PoetSociety #PoetsOfInstagram #SpilledInk #VeinHeartArtisans #Wordsmith #Writer #WritersOfInstagram #Writing

 

Photo credits:

rachel-cheng-G3ElLWatpwI-unsplash

rachel-cheng-g0qpp-j-aJ4-unsplash

summer country dances

“summer country dances”, when finished, will be, if not a sweet poem, a bittersweet one.  Here are three stanzas:

wheels sing concrete

road joints drowse

slow tires half turn

they minuet this tarred

summer

country

trance

 

children surveil adults

their nods

winks

their shouted whispers

dust

dresses

dance

 

hay-bail cushioned blankets watch

an oaked scotch whisky reel

a hornpipe

fiddle

eyes flirt

fingers touch

turn

withdraw

 

© 5 January 2020

Cindy B. Stevens

 

#Art #ArtlixirPoetry #DarkPoetry #IGPoetry #IGPoets #InstaPoetry #Life #LovePoetry #MicroPoetry #Poem #Poet #Poetry #PoetryCommunity #PoetryGram #PoetryIsLife #PoetryIsNotDead #PoetryLovers #PoetryOfig #PoetryOfInstagram #PoetryPorn #PoetSociety #PoetsOfInstagram #SpilledInk #VeinHeartArtisans #Wordsmith #Writer #WritersOfInstagram #Writing

 

Photo credit:  sam-moqadam-hD3WR11e590-unsplash

believe

Here’s one in progress; the current title is “believe”:

the girl feels weak today

her tears surface

she doesn’t blink

she hears piano music

sees feet through a glass wall

walk on the ceiling of the floor above

 

believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved, and thy house

Acts 16:31 King James Version

doesn’t say healed

does she believe God will heal?

does it take her belief to heal?

 

her shoulders won’t hold her dress

it slips

exposes her fear

her coward

her shoulders hold those

© 7 April 2021

Cindy B. Stevens

#Art #ArtlixirPoetry #DarkPoetry #IGPoetry #IGPoets #InstaPoetry #Life #LovePoetry #MicroPoetry #Poem #Poet #Poetry #PoetryCommunity #PoetryGram #PoetryIsLife #PoetryIsNotDead #PoetryLovers #PoetryOfig #PoetryOfInstagram #PoetryPorn #PoetSociety #PoetsOfInstagram #SpilledInk #VeinHeartArtisans #Wordsmith #Writer #WritersOfInstagram #Writing

 

Photo credit:  isabella-and-louisa-fischer-asEF6J0LZ44-unsplash

Salomé means peace

I’ve left this piece alone for a bit more than a year.  I’ll come back to it next week.  Here are a few lines from “Salomé means peace”:

if I could pick my vessel

would I choose human

obey mother’s bidding

would I dance for my Antipas

 

if I could select

would I prefer immortal

I’d be glorious

everything I covet at my fingertips

 

except my fingernails are chipped

Antipas’ look tears me

because I must choose

 

© 7 March 2020

Cindy B. Stevens

#Art #ArtlixirPoetry #DarkPoetry #IGPoetry #IGPoets #InstaPoetry #Life #LovePoetry #MicroPoetry #Poem #Poet #Poetry #PoetryCommunity #PoetryGram #PoetryIsLife #PoetryIsNotDead #PoetryLovers #PoetryOfig #PoetryOfInstagram #PoetryPorn #PoetSociety #PoetsOfInstagram #SpilledInk #VeinHeartArtisans #Wordsmith #Writer #WritersOfInstagram #Writing

 

Photo credit:  alexander-sinn-DX5r6BNoWVE-unsplash