Source: Generator

Just discovered this author.  WOW.  Read ALL of her blog and cheer for her awards and upcoming competitions!

Source: Evolution In Rachel’s Garden: pt. 1


Where did my legs go this time?

perhaps, into the waters off Oahu,

Tiger sharks at my feet.


Tonight my loving wife and

my sweet mother won’t sleep

the machines will go beep beep beep.


Yes, count your friends

count them on one hand.

whenever you are ready.


This has been such a long siege.

swallowing pride, choking on pain,

do I really have to do this again?


Eric Clapton’s, “How Long Blues

plays again, I have washed myself up

to wreck, presently to be broken.


Whatever breaks was meant to be

broken. Who said that? Maybe me, I’m

too close to the floor now to write poetry.


This is gonna hurt!

My shoe!

Copyright2015  Sunontiepost*

*a penname*

Note:  Yes, #7 was supposed to be funny.

Choke and swear

waving hands side to side,

just to get my message

past the blood-red tide

coursing in my veins, loosed from

collapsing rooms, that are dark with

dread, always pounding doom.


I come out from behind my eyes.

I can see you from ten feet high,

can’t come down till the

voice inside

says I’m the circle

not the line

drawn across my face

and time.

for Rachel

I almost forget the Foxgloves but

remember them setting the red

watering can down.

Their dark green poise

cries out, wildly, against the canvas of colors

that festoon the deck I call

Rachel’s Garden.

They must be thirsty too, so I

drew more water, more blue crystals

imagining their tender roots reaching in darkness

determined to be strong as above

their long curved lips dream

and drink from the sun.

I pour the meal like rain

coming down over the center as

suddenly the cicadas wake

wind out their song together,

a fluttering ancient whine

from the trees, that also dream,

also drink

I need time to think

hoisting the red watering can in

Rachel’s Garden.

Copyright 2015*Sunontiepost

A shuffle
arms move to some beat

balance that groove
Where are your dancing shoes?

caught in the combine
threshed for good measure
set to burn with the miracles and

you cant sell your life for
money now and the tomb
you came from
caved in

only stones left
filled with fire and
ripe for throwing
reaching for them.

Then lands the first one for
you to realize
you were never here
never were

the whole time



Under the shade of the Bradford Pear
the old red dog’s nose down
Insisting something has  been there
Sniffs, snorts, her eyes turning to me
Ringed now in silver and serious.

She must think I am a poor judge of this
Piece of land we’ve carved out and
Declared our own. I am the pitiful
Observer at the end of her leash
Doomed to survive her in what are
Surely her last days now adding
Up to thirteen years plus.

So I let her lead me,

  even in the rain and
The heat that decays because
 I know
Her great heart sees me, and I see her back
Her body trying to betray. She keeps
Moving, stumbles, keeps moving,
Loves with all her understanding
This broken man somehow a
Stranger to the world around him

lifting her back up gently
  from the center. Gently with

no thought of death, ignoring pain.

Not for the first time
Under the Bradford Pear
I send up some heavy prayers
Asking whomever lives up there
To make this thing called a soul
Inside me
Love without condition, like her
To let the light shine out from me
for once and forever and
See completely inside the
Temple of the dog

Live forever in the lifting of the fog.

Sunontiepost 2015

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 77 other followers

%d bloggers like this: