Lovers' Boats (Naked, Unashamed)

Fairyland – Sunita Khedekar

beez buzz

zap

            zapp

fizzle

fuzzle

guzzle

            nuzzle

the pleasant

swish

rattle

rustle

of cotton candy pink

feather and wing

and clothes

fling

-ing

and skin dip-

ping

into the splash, giggling

a sarcoline

memory quilting

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

At dVerse Poetics Grace has invited us to write to the delightfully vibrant artwork of Sunita Khedekar.  She also encouraged us to use color words with the help of The Phrontistery.  The piece I chose to write to reminded me of a cabin we’ve stayed at a few times with a private outdoor hot tub in a beautiful natural setting…trees, creek…just picturesque.  We always chuckle at a sign they have posted there that reads, “We don’t skinny dip, we chunky dunk.”  Anyway, however you are…make a splash. ;)

Treescape

What Lies Beneath – Vandy Massey

Let all the dry and brittle

fall away,

you’ll green again.

I’ll climb you in summer,

hidden,

speaking poetry

to my own ears,

remembering the taste

of my own name,

letting all the dry and brittle

fall away,

to green again.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

For Sunday’s Featured Artist:  Vandy Massey at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads

Jael

Now, Mama Deborah was a prophet;

she knew what would happen.

She’d said a woman

was going to get the job done.

Sisera had been

dreaming of spoils—silver,

and purple garment plunder,

a woman on each shoulder—

his mother, so proud.

Until his mighty 900

were swept away

in the torrent of Kishon,

and he alone, on foot, found Jael.

And let’s just say

the stars were not aligned

in his favor.

You’d like some water?

I can do better,

here’s some milk.

Get cozy,

here’s a blanket,

that’s right,

take a load off.

There now,

rest your head—

they may not have made swords

fitted for feminine hands,

but trust me, a woman

knows how to get creative

when she must—

you may feel

a little sting;

this peg, this hammer

are no

small things.

And it happened, just

like Mama said.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

Notes:  Deborah was a prophetess and judge (and poet…smiles) in ancient Israel.  Sisera was a notorious commander of the army of the Canaanites who had oppressed the Israelites for many years.  Jael was the woman who defeated him by driving a tent peg through his temple with a hammer, pinning his head to the ground. 

To read both prose and poetic accounts of the story of these heroines go here:  Judges 4, 5.

For last week’s Poets United Midweek Motif:  Honoring Woman/Women’s Achievements.

Witness

i write to know myself,

see myself,

bare myself—myself, bare—

to scratch my existence,

my witness made manifest,

on the conflicting world’s wall,

jen was here—

1971-20??

that is all.

and maybe my scratch

offers a differing/similar

view?

changes

a thing or two?

time will tell.

and that

is

all.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

For dVerse—Meeting the Bar:  Poetic Movements and Manifestos.  Gay Reiser Cannon has us writing manifesto poems.  Come take a look and join in! 

Lion Around

The Sleeping Gypsy, 1897, by Henri Rousseau,

image via The Mag

If you’re going to have

a pet lion

you’d better carry a stick.

He may get bored of your

pink hair, sitar strumming

and cheap wine.

After all

that fun gypsy-ing

one does, eventually,

have to eat.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

Ok, I’m just having a bit of poetic fun with this wonderful painting by Rousseau provided by the excellent poet and hostess Tess Kincaid at Magpie Tales.  Check out the work of other writers there--I’m sure they came up with something less cringeworthy and cliché than I did in writing to this image.  :-)  I think it’s my mood. 

And I used to have pink hair on one side.  I kinda miss it.

clouded leopard

image:  wikimedia commons

at the zoo

for me

there is only

the clouded leopard

pacing

its fishbowl cage.

her sad eyes,

her muscles, taut—

excruciating

to be on display.

now, this isn’t popular

or proper.

come on, baby.

let us see you,

exploit you,

measure you.

we’ll feed you, promise.

you don’t want to be gregarious?

on facebook?

you must have your head

and spots examined.

there’s a reason

she climbs,

the best at it of her kind—

she’s designed to be

reclusive.

by day

she wants to rest

among the trees

and hunt at night,

elusive.

hidden

she keeps her pelt and cubs

and her sanity.

break the glass

and let her out, let her out—

she’s me.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

Linking with other poets at Poets United:  The Poetry Pantry this weekend.

whispers

if only

they all were nuzzles

on the neck,

sweet nothings

at the lobe and ridge—

that none

were the black tar kind/unkind

to speaker

and hearer both—

like virus

from the vector’s mouth

if only

the cure could spread

as fast as the disease.

up to you and me?

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

for dVerse OLN

Dreams and Poems and Relativity

Poet's Sleep, 1989, by Chang Houg Ahn, image via The Mag 208

Asleep

in time’s elbow,

drifting toward

Escher’s labyrinth

the joint bends

toward

the dark,

toward

the light,

I follow

hoping

neither burn me,

knowing

they already have.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

For Magpie Tales

*reference to M.C. Escher, Impossible Constructions

Catching Foxes

Hedge the rows

where the birdnote grows,

lark a tune

‘neath the fiddlehead moon,

                             

tip the wine glass,

burn the firegrass,

bellow and croak

at the midnight stroke,

thatch the stormroof,

squall and rainproofed—

and all the other

rhymes and metaphors

it takes to build and protect

something worth something.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

*title taken from Song of Solomon 2:15

sharing with dVerse at OLN

Cute

i don’t want to be cute!

i hate being adorable!

when you want to

have muscles

and body hair

and drive a car

this is,

to a boy of six

with three older brothers—

a curse.

the curse of cuteness.

ok,

what do you

want to be?

with no hesitation,

all gumption and flash,

the reply: 

scary!

i laugh, and quickly try to stifle it—

because he really means it

and

because

i do

get what he’s saying—

he wants to be taken seriously

around here,

a mustachioed man/ninja/t-rex

to be reckoned with,

even if i do still help him

to put on his belt

and slick down the cowlick

on the back of his head.

i nod,

as somber and intent

as if i am making

a most grave and

solemn vow.

but

just between you and me—

he’s still so cute

it’s scary.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

shared at poets united poetry pantry