Sandmorphs of the Amethyst Moon

The watchful eye of the bleeding heart moon

turned amethyst,

her vellum glowed in its gaze—

a canvas for creatures of prey.

Black sand morphed white on her toes,

confectioners’ sugar

to said creatures

making them voraciously bay.

Storm clouds rained dirt

for moments turned years

while she learned to make bloodcastles

with hellbowls of tears.

Sorry for what they’d done,

treacherous birds of root

flew from her tormented refrain

to nest and to watch from beaches of soot.

A pièce de résistance complete

in its unfinishing,

thus, she set off to hunt prey of her own.

She tortured a few, but could kill only time,

true more to herself than a rule.

She’d only been waiting on setting cement,

and Prince Charming’s repent

for having left her alone in the light of such an encouraging moon.

Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Wagner

Linking up to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads for Open Link Monday and OpenLinkNight at dVerse Poets Pub.

We Said

you said,

no one ever believed in you quite like me

you said,

you found the seashell as you ran on the beach

and kept it in your pocket

to give it to me

you said,

i made you want to lay down

on the tracks of a speeding locomotive

and beg for my love

i said,

yes

Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Wagner

For Ian.  I was made to believe in you…15 years.  I still have the shell.

Date Night Kiss

forgotten

the car keys

and whose fault it was

Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Wagner

haiku my heart 

First Blush

mirrored

cherry lip gloss

in pale pink wish for spring

a light breeze bringing blossom thoughts

of you

Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Wagner

My adapted offering for the Weekend Mini-challenge at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads where Marian has challenged us to write a Cinquain; a form of poetry created by American poet Adelaide Crapsey.

Proximal

she hears it

thud

within her heart

darkening that softly whispered thing

he’d wept at her feet

squeezing his chest

begging her

to come back

where he could have her, love her

but, snow white

and glistening,

she congeals in

the rush of blood—

cheeks heated, flushed

and damp

spent where he

could never bring her back,

hold her into it long enough

to let it sink

into her skin,

her fluids,

her flesh and bones

holding her, hard

and pushing love into

that bruised place

she cries

every time he touches

forged with passion

sought with tears

a groove never deep enough

to reach the watercourse

and dangles

not siphoned,

a conduit,

clamped

as she turns away

too close

to feel it anymore

Copyright 2013 Jennifer Wagner

Posting to The Poetry Pantry at Poets United

Ornament (Beauty for Ashes)

adorn me with your breath,

i will flower and grow

underneath the overgrowth

of black trees

that bear no fruit

and needle the ground

sleeping

in winter’s graveyard

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner

Falling - A Set of Haiku

old country road

blanket of pine needles

your cheeks ruddy

-------------------

my cold hand

in yours

warm

-------------------

smoke rising

flames bursting

scent of leaves

-------------------

sweeping over

shades of dusk

black crow moon

-------------------

cattle lowing

a song

for autumn

-------------------

cider

cinnamon swizzle stick

hints on my lips

-------------------

crème brûlée,

and the salt in your kiss

delicious

-------------------

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner

recuerda mi corazon and Poetry Pantry

75

I see them

most every week

when I’m driving.

The little man

with his little wife

going for their afternoon stroll

on the sidewalk

in our neighborhood,

holding hands.

They must be 75

years old, at least, and

his leg is bad—

the knee, I think.

His other hand

holds a cane,

but he doesn’t use it—holds it

parallel to the ground. 

Just in case.

And she,

with her opposing hand,

carries an umbrella,

unopened. 

It is Seattle, you know,

better to be prepared. 

Just in case.

I love this scene,

supporting each other,

ready in case of stumbling,

ready in case the rain comes.

They’ve been blessed

to have weathered

life together—so long.

I imagine that will be us.

I know one day

I will see only one of them

going on that walk…

Then I picture you,

tomorrow, in your bunker gear,

and rush home

to kiss you

until we’re 75, 

at least.

Just in case.

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner

dVerse: Characters  Nonfiction

Composing

through table legs

painted toenails coquet

the edge of denim

lemon, sea salt

and baby arugula

eaten with fingertips

candlelight flutter

a catch in her breath

traced in his own

sicilian jazz

the subtle intensity

composing their story

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner

Linked to haiku my heart forever

Chelan Haiku

sunrise

on the vineyard

the bees smell sweet

blue dragonflies

tango above

the lake in sea green

white birch night

the heady scent of you

in bent ryegrass

  

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner  

Linked to Poets United #109 Poetry Pantry 

Reconciling the Sea - a series haiku

watching driftwood

roll in                   

silently                  

slow sea breeze

blowing salt

into old wounds

the undercurrent

an ocean

between them

the tide

rinsing away

bitter roots

fingers

like seaweed

intertwine

their kiss

on the beach

even seagulls speechless

tongues make

slow laps

home

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner

added to dVerse Poetics: Whatever the Weather and Poets United Poetry Pantry 

Eleven at Tulalip

Me, the flightless bird

Soaring in your wildblue

Filled

With mysteries

 

Bathing in moonlight as

The fingers of night

Brushed

Through ribbons of me

 

Sweet, your mouth,

My tears on your lips,

Tasted

So much so I wished to never end them

 

Me, the flightless bird

Now securely

Perched

In the cove on the mountain I didn’t think I could climb

 

 

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner

You Always Pick the Worst Apples

You always pick the worst apples, 

she chided him, all bruised!

They are still sweet in some spots—

sweeter even than others without them, he said.

And then she wondered if that’s why he’d picked her.

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner