Alive

source

She curled up
In the warm blanket
In front of the fireplace.

The temperature had dropped
And it had started
To snow, but
It still felt perfect.

It was the first time
In a long time that
She was completely alone.

No husband looking for something,
No kids sliding up and down
The emotional scales
From moody to hyper active.

The cabin was in the middle
Of nowhere, the cell phone
Reception was shoddy at best.

She was alone, and
Even though everyone said
She would be scared and lonely,
She felt peaceful and safe.

The wind howled,
the wood crackled in the fireplace
And the time had come.

Reluctantly at first,
She slipped out from the blanket,
Allowing it to pool
At her feet.

Then slowly she unbuckled
Her belt and undid
The fastening of her pants.

It soon sat on top
Of the blanket,
Her top, then underwear
Joined her pants.

She stood naked
Before the raging fire,
Allowing it to warm her bare skin.

As though she was in a trance,
She walked out of the cabin
Into the dying snowstorm,
Her step, steady and sure.

She walked until
She came to a clearing
Bathed in moonlight.

She stood in the center
Then fell to her knees,
She opened her mouth and
A song she never heard
Tumbled out.

Her voice was as clear
As tolling bells and it
Rose above the tree tops.

The song ended and
She sat back as though
It drained her.
She waited.

Minutes passed, then
An hour slipped by
Without her noticing.

Out of the corner of her eye,
She saw him,
He circled around her,
Suspicious at first.

He sniffed the air,
She smiled, it was him,
She knew it.

As he walked slowly
Towards her, her eyes
Changed from black to
A tawny shade of yellow.

The closer he got,
The more she changed,
Becoming more like him.

When he, at last, stood
Before her, she was
As he was, two beasts
In the moonlight.

He reared up, but
It was all in play
And soon they were
Racing through the woods.

By day, she rested,
By night, she played
And by the end of the week,
She had come alive.

On the last night,
She bade him not to come
Closer, to keep his distance.

She asked him to
Let her see him as
She was, in human form,
At least once.

He shook his head
And walked away,
Melting into the woods.

For the first time,
She felt cold,
For the first time,
She felt alone.

As she walked back
To the cabin,
She did not dwell.

She did not dwell on
The pain, the feelings of
Abandonment and rejection.
She packed them deep within.

As she neared the cabin,
She saw a man standing
By the porch.

He was as she was,
Human and naked,
He was as she was
And she knew it was him.

That night,
They made love
For the first and last time.

The morning found her
On the road home,
But was it really home?
Will it ever really be home?

She never returned to the cabin,
She lived and died
In the bosom of her family,
But never again did
She ever come alive.


I've noticed that I've been writing longer poems of late, so I've decided to post these on Fridays seeing that the Martine series has come to an end. Also the Martine series will be available to read on the blog up until the end of the year, after that it will only be available as an eBook. Thank you for reading and following my blog and there will be more interesting posts  in the future.

Diff'rent

source

She didn't look
Much diff'rent from
The others.

Her skin be
The color of cocoa,
Her teeth, shiny and white.

Her way of speaking
Ain't much diff'rent
Either.

Sure, she speak like
Mr. Thomas at the school house
But when she's around
Us folk, she speak just fine.

But still,
That young 'un was
Diff'rent. You could see
It in her eyes.

Them eyes seen more things
Than any eyes in the county.
She would tell us about
The desserts and oceans
She'd seen.

Yet that child never
Step foot past
The state line,
Much less the borders.

She'd tell us about
Places and people
We never knew existed.

That there child
Was something special,
I would put flowers
On her grave every
Sunday right after church.

She was special but
Not many people
Take a liking to anything
They don't understand
Or won't accept.

Sometime,
It's hard being special
In this world of ours,
But I'm sure wherever
She is, she's somewhere
Where the accept a person
As they are.

I Remember

source

I remember a time
When it was just
You and me.

A time when
Everything seemed
Perfectly created
For us.

I remember a time
When we would
Whisper our shared
Dreams into the darkness
As we nestled deeper
Into blankets and sheets.

I remember when
You were a part
Of the equation
To my happiness.
You + me = Happy.

I remember when
We promised to
Not hurt each other.
No, it was more
Like an understanding.

I remember when
It was just me and you
And the world was
Out there, but we were
Safe in here.

Sad to say that
That time slowly faded away,
You went your way and
I went mine, but
I still remember those times,
Do you remember them, too?

Pinned

Check out the complete Poetry board on Pinterest.

Martine - Part 11

source

In case you missed the first part of Martine, click here to catch up.

"Big Brother!!!"

One moment, Alain was standing on the doorstep of the Carter household, the next he found Sophie plastered to his front, squeezing him to death. Bianca was leaning on the side wall, she rolled her eyes then went tin the direction of the kitchen, mumbling something he couldn't hear.

"I'm guessing your parents told you, Sophie," Alain said, patting her awkwardly.

"Yep," Sophie released him, grabbing Alain's hand and dragging him into the house. "Maman, Dad, guess who's here." She called out as they entered the kitchen.

"Alain, of course, who else would be here?" James said, smiling at them from the refrigerator. "Bianca told me you gave him quite a greeting. Sorry about that Alain, but she does that to all the relatives. Well, with the exception of Great Aunt Geenie."

"Yeah, she's on the fragile side, plus it's hard to give a good hug to someone in a wheel chair," Sophie piped in.

"It's okay, Mr. Carter, Sophie, I'll just have to get used to it," Alain said, giving Sophie a side hug.

"Does that mean you're going to be a part of our...."

"Sophie, can you give me a hand in the dining room, " James interrupted, "you too, Bianca," he proceeded to to herd the girls out of the kitchen. "Oh and Alain, call me James, Mr. Carter is a bit formal for the father of your sisters." He patted Alain on the back and exited the kitchen.

Just Beyond

I would listen
To the bird song.
The melody light and airy,
Reminding me that

source

There was still beauty
In this world.

Beauty that laid
Just beyond my existence,
Just beyond my grasp.

I would lay in my bed,
Waiting for the next man,
The next John, Harry
Or would it be Ian.
Did it really matter
What they called themselves?

They all wanted one thing,
A warm body, soft
And pliable to use
For an hour or an evening.

A body upon which
They can release
The frustrations of their day,
Their lives. And as easily
As they discard a paper napkin,
They will discard me
From their memories.

Days dissolve into weeks,
Weeks into months and
With the passing of time,
I would listen
To the bird song
To remind me that
Beauty was still there
Just beyond my existence,
Just beyond my grasp.

Do You Love Me

"Do you love me?"

The words were muffled,
Coming through the pillow
Covering her head.

He started to remove it,
Wanting her, not only to
Hear his answer, but
To see it.

She held the pillow
Tightly, only wanting
To hear his answer
As it beat the drums
Of her ears.

In this moment,
She was vulnerable
And she could not
Bear for him to
See her so bare.

Hearing nothing,
She tossed the pillow aside
And bolted for the door.

His silence, to her,
Was an answer.
He didn't love her.

Just before she escaped,
He grabbed her,
Pulling her close,
Embracing her,
He answered her.

In his embrace,
Her question was answered.
No words were needed
As this simple act
Spoke volumes.

In the crook of her neck,
He asked her,
"Do you love me?"

When she did not speak,
He looked into her eyes,
Searching for an answer.

She answered him.

She answered him
With feather light kisses
On his lips, cheeks,
Brow and nose.

Each kiss growing
In intensity and
Centering more on his lips
Until they lingered there
Until they were breathless.

They pulled away,
Looking at each other,
They answered the question,
"I love you."

Pinned

I came across this idea of sharing my pins through one of my favourite bloggers, so I would like to introduce you to Pinned. It is a weekly post sharing my Pinterest boards. This one is based on Poetry, click here to see the complete board.

Martine - Part 10

 

source

In case you missed the first part of Martine, click here to catch up.

The girls found their mother in the living room, sitting on the couch. She beckoned them to sit on either side of her. She took a deep breath and began to tell Sophie and Bianca the truth.

"When I was about two years older than Bianca, I moved to a small town in France with my Aunt Josephine. I was one of three black students in my school and it was hard making friend as the local kids grew up among each other. It was hard being a new kid, then a boy a year older that me befriended me. At first, we were just friends, but then we became more."

Although she was talking to her daughters, Martine was staring ahead as though she was looking into the past, "He took me to my first concert, we went to the seaside during the summer. We became intimate and it was my first time. I was so in love with Pierre," Martine sighed.

"I missed my first period and I thought it was because of stress. When I missed my second one, I got married, so I took a bus to a town two towns away. I found out I was pregnant, I was scared but happy. I was carrying Pierre's child. I returned home and went straight to him. I told Pierre that he was going to be a father. He grew angry, he said awful, mean things. He said he didn't love me, he only wanted to sleep with a black girl because he wanted to see how it was different. Plus he questioned if the baby was his," a tear streaked down Martine's cheek.

Are You Worthy - Dark Warrior's Katana

As I made my way
Down from the temple,
I touched the new tattoo,
Curious as to where
My next battle will be.

Nothing happened,
No vision as clear as day,
Not even a glimmer.

"You are not ready
To see the next battle ground."

Beside me stood
The little boy,
His face a mask
Of authority.

"Your body needs time
To heal and your mind
Has shifted out of a plane
Of total confidence,"
He said, starting to walk.

"Besides you barely won
In your fight with Kure-ji-ichi
Do you really think you
Can win in the next battle
The way you are now?"

We walked in silence.
He was right,
The battle at the temple
Was harder than
The one with the samurai.
The next battle,
Without a doubt, will
Be much harder.

"You need a katana,"
The boy said at last.
"Fighting with a different
Katana on the higher levels
Will lead to your defeat.
You need a katana that
Is as much a part of you
As your arm or leg."

I stopped walking,
Looking at him skeptically,
"Let me guess,
You know where
I can get one."

A large grin spread
Across the little boy's face.

"I know someone,
Come, I will take
You to him."

The journey through
The little town
Went by in a blur
As we walked quickly.

Our destination was
A little shop on a side street,
The inside was dark and dusty
And I wondered if anyone
Ever came in to buy anything.

"Old man!
Old man, I have a warrior
Looking for a katana!"
The little boy's voice echoed
Through the store.

"Hmph, why do you yell?
I'm not deaf,"
A little, old man
Shuffled from a room
To the back.

His posture stooped
And his weight was
Propped on a beautifully
Carved cane.

"Warrior, you say?
So you've won the temple
Battle, Dark Warrior?"
He spoke to me as
Though I was his student.

"Yes, and I've come
To purchase a katana,"
I said, bowing to the man.

"Ha, purchase a katana!
I don't sell katanas."

I looked at the little boy
In confusion, but he was
Busy looking through
An ancient book.

"Young warrior,
You can not buy a katana
From me, you will find it
With my help. You already
Have it, but I will help
You be able to access it
When you need it,"
The old man said.
"Come with me."

I looked at the boy,
Once more and he nodded.
"You've come this far,
Why turn back now?"

I followed the old man
Through the back of the store.
As I walked out the back door,
I expected to find
A dusty courtyard,
Instead I walked into
A forest clearing
Which was a perfect circle.

"Who made this?"
I asked in awe.

"No man made this,
But their actions did.
Many battles were fought here
And now the plants and trees
Dare not to enter the circle
Less they lose a limb or two,"
Responded the old man.

When I turned back to him,
I noticed he had
Two wooden sticks that
Were shaped into katanas.

He tossed one to me,
Then went to the far end
Of the clearing and propped
His cane against a tree.

He turned back to me,
He now stood taller,
He stretched and I heard
Bones cracking.
For an old man,
He was well built.

He returned to the
Center of the circle
And took a stance,
"Shall we begin?"

I had barely nodded my head
When the old man attacked
With a speed I had not expected,
I had barely enough time to
Evade his first blow.

The first half hour was spent
Evading the old man's attacks.
Instead of waning,
His strength,
His speed,
His intensity
Was growing.

"Do you even know
How to fight, young one?"
The old man asked, stepping back.
"How did you win against
The samurai and Kure-ji-ichi
If all you do is evade?"

"Yes, I know how to fight,
Old man," I spat back,
Wiping sweat away from my brow.

"Then show me that
You are worthy of
A katana of your own,"
The old man dared me.

Without warning,
He attacked and this time
I countered his attack,
Then attacked him.

With each blow,
I tossed away my vices.

With the blow to his side,
I released my fear.

With the blow to his shoulder,
Self pity melted away.

Soon, all that was left
Was confidence, resolution
And power.

Although I had gotten
The upper hand, the old man
Was able to knock
The wooden katana
From my hands.

He held his to my chest,
I should have felt fear,
I should have felt defeat,
Instead I felt unstoppable.

A warm sensation emanated
from my right shoulder,
Snaking its way down my arm.
When it reached my hand,
I felt something solid.

I looked down
To see the end of
A mini tornado dying away.

In my hand
Was a black katana.
I looked up at the old man,
And on his face was
A knowing smile.
Then he was gone.

He flipped and somersaulted
To the far end of the clearing
Where he picked up his cane.
With a click,
He unsheathed a katana
From the cane.

"Your katana finds you worthy,
But are you worthy enough
To leave this clearing with it?"
The old man attacked.

Sparks flew,
Blood was spilled,
Sweat gleamed on our bodies,
And we fought,
Never stopping even though
Our bodies ached and
Begged for mercy.

Hours passed and still
They felt like minutes.

Then the old man
Walked away,
Returning to the far end
Of the clearing to retrieve
His katana's casing.

As he assembled his cane,
He turned back to me,
"You are worthy, you one,
You are worthy of that
Katana and you are worthy
Enough to leave this place.

As he spoke,
I felt the black katana
Vibrate as though
It was agreeing with
The old man.

"It's getting late and
The last train to Tokyo
Leaves in an hour,"
The old man said,
Walking to the door
Leading back into the store.

Like before,
I followed him through the store.
When we reached the front,
I noticed that the old man
Was shuffling, depending on his cane
And his body and clothing
Showed no signs of our battle.

I looked down,
And the same was true for me.
Not a cut, bruise or tear in my
Clothing could be found.
The only proof I had
That there was even a battle
Was the black katana
In my hand.

I looked up to find
The old man and the boy
Looking at me as though
They were proud parents.

"You are ready to continue
To the next level, but
You must rest a few days
To be able to fight
At your best,"
The little boy said
With authority.

"What is that written
On your katana?"
He asked.

The script was old Japanese
And the only characters
I could recognize was
"Dark Warrior".

I turned to the old man,
"Can you read this?"

Without looking at the katana,
His eyes staring intently
Into mine, he told me.

"The Dark Warrior is prepared
For battle, be forewarned!"

To be continued.......


I must be honest, I feel this poem is the first draft. I don't feel incredibly confident so I'll let it sit for a while and come back to it. Thanks Glen for the pic of the katana.

Fall

source

Trees set themselves on

Fire, the wren takes flight to find

A green place to perch.

This is the last of the haiku as tomorrow is the Expressions: Poetry At the Pub's haiku challenge. I must say, I've grown to enjoy writing haiku and you never know I might post one every now and then.

Submitted to imaginary garden with real toads and dVerse Poets

Martine - Part 9

source

In case you missed the first part of Martine, click here to catch up.

"So what happened, yesterday?" It was Sunday morning and James and Martine were still in bed, but they had been away for about half an hour.

"Well, he came about an hour after you guys left, he hadn't eaten so I made him breakfast and then we moved into the living room and we had a good, long talk," Martine responded. "I gave him the options of being in our life or just me being in his life."

"And?"

"I didn't want to pressure him for an answer, so I invited him for dinner tonight. I told him he can tell me what he decides then. Are you sure you are okay with this?" Martine had been lying on her back and turned to look at James. After being married for fourteen years, she could tell when he was lying.

James turned to look her in her eyes, he reached out and caressed her jawline. He looked at her as though  he was seeing her for the first time, "Martine, I am more than okay with it, in fact, it would be nice to have another man around. I won't feel so overwhelmed by all of your feminine charms."

Spring Is Here

 

source

  

Sunlight warming the 

Cool Spring air, daring blossoms

Sitting on my table. 

A Frog's Life

Tadpoles swim in the

Pond. The old bull frog croaked

For the very last time.

Another attempt at Haiku, I think this is the closest I've gotten to the traditional, Japanese form. 

Submitted to imaginary garden with real toads and dVerse Poets Open Links.

Martine - Part 8

source

In case you missed the first part of Martine, click here to catch up.

Just as Martine was settling into her favourite chair in the living room, pressing play on the DVD remote control, the door bell rang. She groaned as she got up, deciding to let the trailers play while she got rid of the person at the door. This was her fist Saturday alone at home, James had taken the girls to the mall and they had planned to take in a movie. She had the DVD of a movie that she had been meaning to see, her favourite snacks and her comfy pajamas. Nothing and nobody was going to disturb her day.

When she opened the door, all the irritation melted from her face. On the doorstep stood Alain, his face gaunt, he had shadows under his eyes, it looked like he hadn't shaved in days and his clothes were rumpled. To add to the tragic scene, it had started to rain. He looked so sad and it broke Martine's heart.