memories of a young poet

“November Lace” ~ Photo by Rene



marble notebook in hand
she slipped away 

from the fray
unnoticed
up
to her childhood room
through
the bedroom window
and onto the rooftop poetic:

” she sat 
arms hugging knees
surveying life,
the leafless trees
spindly branches claw the sky
scratching for sun,
to heaven they cry
psalms of wisdom,
strength and grace
woven in November lace”
 
the air felt good
against her flushed cheeks
a beautiful sunset
was now in progress
she was thankful for this
she was thankful
for finding her peace
she belonged
right here,
right now
to this moment


Excerpted from “November Lace” by Rene
Rene ~ February 9, 2013

For d’Verse Poetics “Meeting The Bar-Mining The Memory”
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virgin

Image (via Magpie Tales) by Daniel Murtagh

to watch her slip into
the silken night vulnerable
longing diaphanous

to boldly witness
such radiant torture,
exceedingly miraculous

to keep her pressed
under glass, instinctual
yet hopelessly dangerous

to know this brutal age old ache
is to have lived
a life across the threshold

Rene ~ January 6, 2013

french toast

Image: PublicDomain.com

God, man
It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone whistle in my kitchen
It’s quite the delight
Ahhh…you made coffee
And you’re making french toast!
You are a saint
You gotta fiddle with that knob on the left rear burner
Like this
It’s a pain in the butt sometimes
Personally, I think it just likes the extra attention
Mmm…your ear smells like cinnamon
not fair, man, that…
not fair at all
your ass looks better in my sweatpants than mine does
I now have to kill myself
After I eat a loaf of french toast, though
You want some orange juice?
freshly squeezed…somewhere
Tell me, again
Why is it we never were?

Rene ~ January 5, 2013
For 100 Word Song
The song prompt was Dan Fogleberg’s
Same Old Auld Lang Syne

This is my spin on the classic