Cautionary sign
Here!
Let me strip naked, remove my facade,
so you can see inside of me
that I’m human
and not God
Here!
Let me wipe away my poker face
so you can peek beneath the mask
realize my barren
mundane task
Here!
Let me demonstrate how dying feels
be locked up without parole
be removed totally
life without a soul
The Autumn Sky
The colors of the Autumn breeze
dancing rainbows round naked trees
Browning of the greenest grass
brightness of the death contrasts
Orange, yellow, green, brown, red
briefly
intensely
witnessed as dead
The icy winds begin to blow
hailing
beckoning
oncoming snow
I watch in mourning staring cloudy skies
the loss of warmth from Summer’s prize.
Deep in the earth seek slumber’s redemption
Awaken in the Spring as Winter’s confession
Wishflowers
The breath I breathe was never mine
It’s but a reminder of the passing time
The rise and fall of conquering nations
The atomic reaction of cosmic sensation
The intimate sigh of the living world
The refreshing gust of faith unfurled
The revelation of the stormy night
The passion sighed in lover’s delight
The whisper of a birthday wish
An aged dandelion in a child’s fist
The breath I breathe was never mine
It’s merely a reminder of borrowed time.
My dad, Dave Looney Sr, and his dog Apollo.
Today I’m in a deep state of admiration for my dad. I’ve been dangling carrots in front of you for a while, but truly, if you understood, you’d be madly in love with him too.
My dad is a man of courage, strength and integrity. He not only served America in the United States Navy as a Sea Bee (from which he retired), but he also struck out to begin a life away from everything he’d ever known. Not only was he incredibly good at solving problems, creating opportunities, waiting until he was ready to accept responsibilities, but he could also move large electrical wires as part of his career in a Union shop for Consumer’s Energy (from which he retired). And he did this all with a strong sense of morals and ethics he learned by choosing to be more than he was told he was worth.
When I think of how much he had to overcome from his upbringing, from the Vietnam War, from the struggles against poverty while raising a family of four children and maintaining a relationship with his new wife during a 1970’s economy, all while working any hours he could get his hands on to provide, I’m in complete awe.
While it is true I’ve been accused (accurately so) of putting men I’ve married or dated on a pedestal, if they only knew half of why I expect so much out of a man is because of my dad, and first from my Grandfather Louis A Coleman, Jr, then perhaps they’d have realized I wanted to hold them in the same esteem. Ben Stotler is trying hard to meet that lofty place because he sees the same thing I do.
My only regret is that I didn’t know how very great he is until I got to hang out with him as much as I have and look at him through the eyes of love. Dave Looney, you’re top hats all the way with true class, honesty, and an incredibly beautiful soul that I aspire to be like.
I gush distracted through my days
but when I choke with disgust, starve for poetry,
I dig out their works and cover my ears to the world
The common world where words are disposable,
no longer present pleasure
but tedious imaginings
of short-handed, short-sighted vulgarities.
The world where “u r ok” is acceptable bastardization.
Ready for a binge
I burrow into my favorite comfort foods
like a fork bringing sustenance to my body
I allow them to enter my veins with lusty anticipation.
When I ingest Joel, E.I. Wong, Roads, or Cardiff
I’m blissfully transported, transposed into a new trajectory,
rescued by the unsuspecting, unaware, shiny knights
The breathless depths of my immersion
puddle into my lap, spill onto my blouse
leaving me with short-lived shielding against ignorance
besotting my sensibilities with undulating vocabulary
I lift one last feather towards the wings of Queen Bird.
The final dollop of delectable dessert.
Deep sighs topped with a satisfied burp from my binge-filled indulgence;
Gratefully sated by the authors of still-life slices.
Unrefined wisdom
Oh, how I longed for a string of pearls
I wished and hoped since I was a little girl
I dreamed someday they’d be boon to me
Yoked around my neck as an adulthood key
Offered with adoration from generational knee
For as a foolish child, I believed wisdom to be free.
As I released her hand, my heart bled tears of peace
She once was my holiest of Saviors
begging my life of me as a personal favor
when that night sailed away with the moon.
If not for the promise I gave her
from my ugliest desperate behavior
I’d have deserted the weeping stars too soon.
Now the full moon rises stark
bringing forth what won from dark
as the stars witness my release
I emancipate her hand, relinquish her heart
Another path taken on this journey I embark
To her I offer a blessing of light, love and peace
I was a beggar on Wealthy Street
where I was accused of being vibrant
arrested in my quest for murdered time
charged with being an artist
convicted of faith in more than I do
as an accessory after the top hat
In my sidewalk cell,
I became an advocate as a willing-faced pauper
begging for change on Wealthy Street
This past July, a church committee requested a new message on the electronic sign, which faces the Oak Ridge Turnpike. The message they requested was “Black Lives Matter.” The board of the Oak Ridge Unitarian Universalist Church, or ORUUC, voted to approve it, and the message was added to the sign’s series of scrolling messages.
Source: Opinion: Rev. Morrill addresses ‘Black Lives Matter’
It seems so long ago since yesterday
when you grabbed your toast,
shined your sunshine smile through the clouds
and scooted out the door because you were late.
I followed you, halting at the doorway
You dropped your toast on the sidewalk
You cussed, waved, shouted “I love you”
got in your car and vanished.
I didn’t have police officers showing up at my door.
I didn’t have alarms screaming
I sat on the back porch watching the sunrise
with a hot cup of coffee in my hand
your words warming my heart.
“Hey, doesn’t he work at the Towers?”
called the neighbor over the fence.
I didn’t even realize they’d been talking to me.
“What? Oh, yes.”
“Why aren’t you watching the news?”
I didn’t understand. I thought it odd.
I waved with a friendly wrist making my way to
nothing
Cold pillow. Cold toast. Crystal blue sky.
gone
Gutting of commerce, ashes of hope, lost
It’s years later and it still seems so long ago since yesterday
But I’ve never forgotten your last words to me
Every morning I walk out to lay toast on the sidewalk
Every morning I sit on the back porch and drink coffee
Every morning I watch the news
Everything a sacrament commemorating your unintentional sacrifice.
An Independent Nondiscriminatory Platform With No Religious, Political, Financial, or Social Affiliations - FOUNDED 2014
Life is a patchwork of moments — laughter, solitude, everyday joys, and quiet aches. Through scribbled stories, I explore travels both far and inward, from sunrise over unfamiliar streets to the comfort of home. This is life as I see it, captured in ink and memory. Stick around; let's wander together.
Hosanna High Community Burial Project
True wealth is the wealth of the soul
Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.
Life as an American poet of excellence
Epic fantasy & military sci-fi author.
Love Letters to the Tar Pit
Making Space for Dreams
binge thinking and other things in life
Mare Martell 