Poetic Asides - cascade poem/We Write Poems - Wizard of Oz

MISS RUBY

If you're going to walk down golden roads
you should definitely do it in style.
Thank god you found me.

That gingham smock did nothing
for you, honey. You need some pizzazz
if you're going to walk down golden roads.

But you've got the right idea with
the little lapdog. When accessorizing with canines,
you should definitely do it in style.

Still, a pair of dazzling heels is what
you really need to turn heads in the Emerald City.
Thank god you found me.

Poetic Asides -- what I love about (blank)

(Blank)

The blank page is where I begin and end,
a world unwritten and unknown until
pen meets paper (or fingers meet keyboard)
and love is spoken into existence.

The blank stare is where I begin, and end
a world unwritten and unknown. Until
pen meets paper (or fingers meet keyboard),
love is broken from existence.

Three Word Wed -- fragile, rampant, tremor

THE TREMOR

His was a fragile ego,
the kind you tiptoed around
hoping not to squeak a floorboard
and wake the sleeping giant.

Hers was a living tremor,
the kind of rampant quake that
rattles your heart deep in your chest
and never lets you sleep.

Three Word Wed -- engulf, imminent, tamper

TAMPERED TEMPER

He tampered with her
braids as he sat behind
her in kindergarten.

Her temper was swift and
beautiful, a flaming handprint
engulfing his left cheek.

He tampered with her
heart as he played the
field in high school.

Her face flushed as she
landed the imminent blow that
smashed the smirk off his face.

Poetic Asides -- about a person

LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE

She held my hand
my first day of
kindergarten. Her
red curly hair
framed her freckled
face, enflamed with
dimples and the
most ferocious smile
you'd ever seen.

Carry on Tuesday - one misty moisty morning

7 A.M.

He fell out of my bed
one misty moisty morning
and said he no longer loved
the smell of my damp skin
or the freckles on my nose.

He fell out of my bed
and I felt the cool
deadness of the cotton sheets
that smelled moisty and misty
without his heat to warm them.

Three Word Wed - charm, feast, robust

MY EMPTY STOMACH

I feasted on your charm,
a robust meal
of delectable deceit and emptiness.

I hung on your arm,
an empty delicacy
for men to feast upon.

Going back

It only takes a little
plutonium to get
back to the future, Marty.

In my wake

I left a trail of
tears behind me.
Thankfully, they snuffed the fires.

A torrid affair

The heat of your skin
once seared my
flesh, branded by your love.

The salt of your tears
once mixed with
mine, snuffed that bright flame.

The ashes of our home
once covered the
ground, scattered in the wind.