Ladder to Success

MeeAugraphie
04/27/09

27 of 30, April 2009
Prompt: Poefusion’s Monday Mural

Click the link above to view the painting! Join in?

Glorious Woman

MeeAugraphie
04/20/09

20 of 30, April 2009 Prompt: Poefusion’s Monday Mural, see it here.

(I struggled with this one. I had to leave it midmorning, come back to it, and then edit, and y’all know I avoid editing. I am still unhappy with it, but I put fingers to keyboard and wrote, and that, today was a good thing.

Migraine Visions

She cannot get a clear picture
of his face
tears fall
heart strangles
throat spasms threaten her sanity
as images strobe
matching migraine’s aura
in color and speed.

She watches in fascination
as bits of him brighten
then fade,
blue eyes zig zag to yellow sun
red cheeks zig zag to white clouds.

She is seized with joy at each glimpse,
and stretches with herculean effort
toward a more complete vision of him

and each unanswered reach
increases her dread
crushes her heart
with as much force as migraine’s dilation
pounds her skull.

Similarity to her migraines ends there
for the current colorful show within her head
may fascinate,
and pain will surely accompany or follow
but with her migraine the pain will subside and peace return,

his death has robbed her peace and though she allows
the strobes of a migraine to vanish willingly
she will beg in every waking moment that
the pieces of his face strobe until they become
whole again and accept whatever pain it takes
to see him again whole.

MeeAugraphie
12/14/08, heavily revised 12/18/08

(I know this is a bit long and “convoluted”, someday I will attempt to cut it. I originally wrote it in first person, but that made it too close to my fears for the future, but in switching it, I allowed myself too much “wiggle” room and got too wordy.)

The Window

I was promised
a door to my future
but I can only see
the past drawing me back.

Must I go full circle
to get
yet again
to future’s door?

Am I doomed to live
as before?

Or is this a firm shove
toward decisions changed

this time around?

Either way,
the window has opened
for me to step through.

It is the journey that counts….

MeeAugraphie
11/24/08

A Moment’s Brilliance

She stood,
in her moment’s glory,
eyes downcast,
in both silent reflection
and
in struggle to maintain

for she had done it

no one said she could
no one said she would
no one said she should

her lips upturned
gave away her self-satisfaction
even as her eyes spoke of reflection

and brilliant colors
glowed from within

I knew I could
I knew I would
I knew I should

TAKE THAT WORLD!

And seconds later
the brilliant colors
of her moment’s glory,
would soften
to match her
eyes downcast,
in both silent reflection
and
in grace within

as she humbly withdrew
and rewrote her thought
to that of respectful thanks.

MeeAugraphie
05/22/08

My own abstracted light photos with the poems they inspired are found here and here and here and here and here and here. There is so much that can be seen in abstracts – if we look.

A Mermaid’s Quest

She died longing for something
that was not meant to be

and, though she succeeded
in part,

weary by effort expended
she laid her head against
a spire and longed for an end

and tides came in bringing seeds
from afar

and tides went out

flowers sprouted

too late to bring a smile
to her wintered face.

MeeAugraphie
04/28/08

Brellie Poppins

I sat cross legged beneath the coconut palm tree,
(my only refuge from the wicked sun)
flood stained painting in hand

and relived the moment, fifteen short years
in the yet distant past:

Azul skies reflected sun subdued
by nature’s autumn clouds,
my brush stroked colors gentled by water
to capture the memory made just hours before:

“Use my dress, Mommy,”
she said, dragging her pink flowered dress
through daisies scattered
along the edge of our field.
“Let’s not scare the crows so bad they run away
forever, like Spot.”

And so we did –
build our not so scary scarecrow,
we paced in front and back,
peered through fingers

and I held her high so she could see
from a crow’s point of view

We declared it a bit too pretty
and raced each other back to the house
to see what we could find
(she won, you know)

She grabbed her dad’s black umbrella,
the one as big as she,
begged I open it up, “Great big”
like Mary Poppins would….

And so we sauntered back to the field,
Supercalifragilisticexpialidociousing
all the way

and with many retries and adult pinched fingers
mixed with grins and giggles unrestrained,
Brellie Poppins was born.

It took a tornado to fly her away,
and I wonder in my heart if red shoes
would have made the difference
and brought them both back home to me.

MeeAugraphie
04/21/08

Blame

It is fantasy
that brings
interest to
our droning days,
brings nature
from the everyday
to vision never forgotten,

in the darkness
of sleep
we are brave enough
to dream
without editing

the pull of moons
gives us excuse
to expand our horizons

the brightness
of sun unshielded by clouds
pulls us toward smiles

but
fantasy
darkness
moons
sun

are never enough if
we choose to shut them out

and knowing that,
I must blame only myself
for all my never forgotten moments,
my bravery to dare dream,
my expansions of thought and horizon,
and my smiles.

But my depressions and stupid moments,
I blame those on a black hole somewhere.

MeeAugraphie
04/14/08

• Michelle of Poefusion’s Friday Five: sylph – rabble – fizzy – suasion – freckled
• Michelle of Poefusion’s Monday Mural Click to see the curvy hips!
• Shelly of This Eclectic Life’s This Post Blow’s My Dress Up Contest: Scared Silly

The Mask

Her mask shielded him from
freckled innocence scattered
across her nose and cheeks,
combined with champagne
still fizzy on her tongue
her inner discomfort was
unannounced as she strutted into
midnight’s rabble.

She had long passed the stage of sylph
flitting just outside their reach,
and refused to stare
at a TV
alone
another night.

She cast aside
her former suasion,

for she had learned
by metered observation
some men were driven merely by
their compulsion to seize hips,

and though hers were
carved from stone,
her curves were
well-worn from hands
once applied
and well adapted to work
as a siren’s song

once
she got past
her inner fear.

MeeAugraphie
03/17/08

Y’all join in!!

Repose

In repose,
she appears at a casual
glance to passersby,
her lips of scalding red
laid gently closed
as if with no effort

Enmeshed in sadness
she appears on closer examination;
her eyes, twilight blue
lined in sea glass green,
chose to share
that truth.

In mass chaos,
a telepathic
would discover
if only one were nearby
to unravel
even
one
thread
to find the
happiness
entrapped
in
her sorrow
lost
in mind’s chaos.

MeeAugraphie
03/10/08

(Don’t faint, I edited this a bit as soon as I posted it.)