Sounds

I close my eyes

Barely perceptible
The wind brushes past my ear
Hushed as a whispered secret

The crowing of a rooster
Rustle of feathers shaking out the dust
And a chorus of peeping chicks

Exhaled breath through a soft muzzle
And the rhythmic grinding
Of fresh grass between teeth

This inadequate language
Unable to replicate
The pitched bird-songs from every tree

Or capture the buzz
Of the hummingbird’s wings
Hovering, climbing, diving

But a distant barking dog
And the click of a shutter
Pass easily into words and imagination

From across the hills
Echo the chattering hum
Of a diesel engine tractor

And the earthy rumble of hooves

Tuesday Dinner

I feel like Tuesday dinner;
Done with Sunday’s leftovers
Not yet to the Friday special,
Smelling like nothing I want to eat.
No warm oven fresh baked bread
Cinnamon and blackberry cobbler –
This is bland boiled peas
And too-dry to smell like anything meats
Steaming on my plate, threatening
To taste no better than it smells.

I feel like a seventeen year old’s bedroom;
Stale body odor ineffectively masked
By mother’s pungent lemon-fresh spray
With hints of acetone and calendula.
Window tight shut to keep out
The spring breeze and pine trees
And fresh-cut grass hiding just outside.
What I wish I could show to the world
Is marred by what is actually there
No matter how I dress it up.

I feel like a beat poetry club;
Sweet smoke wafting in the low lights,
Air thick with alcohol and sugar
In every breath, sticking to my throat,
Filling my head with dizzy
And my mouth with bad breath.
I just want to curl up in bed
And forget that today ever happened,
Start over tomorrow with my new leaf.
But I can’t get these smells out of my clothes.

Continue reading

I’m Back!

Oh lord and do I have some stories, not all of which are from the Arizona trip.

The dangers of “Farm Fresh”… there were chickens in my eggs this morning.  blaaaahhhhhh…

My friend’s camera is that epic sort of thing that has, y’know, whole different settings and lenses and wide-angle and shutter speed stuff.  So I didn’t bother taking a lot of pictures with my crappy little “point and click” digital camera.  So pictures will mostly have to wait for my friend to upload hers.

I did, however, paint pictures!

Sagebrush Range ©2014 Eliza Murdock

Sagebrush Range ©2014 Eliza Murdock

Desert Dusk ©2014 Eliza Murdock

Desert Dawn ©2014 Eliza Murdock

Also helped save two stupid goats who tried to off themselves by eating the bark from the stump of the freshly cut down Rhododendron bush, cut down precisely because it’s poisonous to most animals.  So we had to dose them with a ton of activated charcoal, which I happened to have with me, saving a trip to town and wasted time.

I wouldn’t recommend going rock climbing pulling a horse trailer filled with sheep.  That was something else, too.  Those poor sheep!  Trust me, it wasn’t that we wanted to, it was the only way out of where we were.

I’ve got a lot more to share, but that’ll be for later.  For now, enjoy the two poems inspired by Oloriel‘s prompt at We Drink Because We’re Poets:

This week, I would like you to pick a letter from the alphabet and write a poem – so that each word in your poem starts with that letter.

If you pick, let’s say, the letter “M”, each word must obviously start with M, any and all. Which means that if you do not pick “A”, you cannot use “and” and so on.

 

Scrimshaw

Someone said she sought solace
Some sweet sanctuary
Skin softened, smoothed, sensual;
Saffron scented smoke swirling skyward.

She sipped sobriety slowly.

Silk-swathed slumber,
Sacred stones, solitary sentinels
See sunset stars, sundials, survey
Such significant sights.

So simple, sanity succumbs.

Sapphire sands shift, settle,
Surrounding sandled steps.
Seraphims sigh singing Sappho’s signs…
Silent soon, she slips southward.

Sanguine sublimity subdued.

Statues standing silent
Sans seeing, scattered
Scant sincerity sent seeking
Sceptered serpents.

Sometimes stained shells survive scratches.

The Toast

Titan toasts, to tokens these!
There thick the texts told,
Tiger’s teeth tearing tithes to threads!

Taken true, tainted taels
Turned thrift to trickery.
Temptation takes ten-fold throats.

Thunder thrust toward twilight treasures
Tossed, tumbled trove;
Torrid trysts trod tiptoe.

Topaz temples tailor traveler’s talismans
Thirteen, twelve… then two:
Time, tomb.

Trials taught, tempests tamed.
Takeup, takeup! True tribulations told.
Talented troubadours toast their trials.

That’s What I Want

I can’t, I can’t, I can’t
Live in a world
Where there’s no mask
For my face
Of pigmented foundation
And smokey-eye shadow
Lipstick to give me
That luscious full pout
That’s what it’s all about

I can’t, I can’t, I can’t
Give up my caffeine fix
My Mountain Just Dew It
Diet Coke habit
Six pack on my hips
To wash down a bottle
Of diet pills I take
To kill the hungry pit
And make size zero fit

I can’t, I can’t, I can’t
Let my boyfriend’s eyes
Stray to other girls and guys
He might decide
The younger, thinner model
This season’s fashion accessory
Is what he wants on his arm
The centerfold promised lies
Of airbrushed, photo-shopped thighs

I can’t, I can’t, I can’t
Let even a second go by
Where I’m not center stage
My Twitter page
Filled with photos of food
I didn’t eat, but still tweet
From my smart phone ap
Current mood: a bleating sheep
Like this if you’re asleep

 

Continue reading

Train Ticket

Window seat for one,
Passage out of town
The old fashioned way:
Train ticket, out bound.
Midnight departure,
Red-eye double-track.
Star filled horizons,
Beacons in the black.
Last call for boarding,
Destination: nowhere.
Two carry-on bags
Ought to get me there.
Don’t know how far
‘Til my journey’s done;
Train ticket, out bound,
Window seat for one.

 

Continue reading