Tag: writing

Wolverine Stew: To The Keene

clydemg 2 Comments

Tropical shirts and impromptu strings

And a dragon to watch over it all

Plastic ivy wrapped round found/fashioned staves

Tipped with hot-glue pinecones

Dancing screams filling the aisles

Green stars shooting into my eyes

Onto the curtains behind

A place where a rubber chicken

Is a great and terrible power

Paper carefully planted in plots

And watercolor paints

As a library is carried to the seats

And very soon that paper will bloom from

Blank black floors of the stage

That rise to fill the space

When the lights go out

And when they return

The dust rises in a dozen beams

And the show begins  

Wolverine Stew: Can Someone Please Tell Me When We Get Spring?

clydemg 1 Comment

From the field of mulch and needles

The flowers seem to glow

Icicles sprouting up to

The gray that comes and goes

Patch of frost encircled by deep blue

Still here in the cold

And I miss when I could see the

Moon like a hole punched in

Purple-paper skies  

But it doesn’t feel bad to wait

Because as the night goes on

The stars peer through like

Roots splitting through stone

And the flowers are still here

Daffodils and crocuses and

My realization I need to learn more

About the blooms I still pass by

Because one day we’re going to have a spring

And it is going to stick

But for now, I’ll just wait for

The next sneak preview

Wolverine Stew: A Couple Games of Life

clydemg 3 Comments

If I looped a day this week it would be

The one of paper eyes, water on fire

And a wave of scattered dice

A room erupting in howling cheers

And you are part of those cheers

And the cacophony is almost as sweet

As the impromptu victory feast of three afterwards

The one of cackling sailors and bees

Mechanical smiles reflecting my own

Popcorn boxes and pinball machines

Acid-touched stone man, wall of magicians and elephants

Going together to each of the

Drums, zombies, and a card with my fortune

Root beer floats, overflowing or not

And I could get used to it all

And to the

Quiet in the sunlight afterward

As turkey tails sprout from rotting logs

And every yard begins to turn blue with flowers

Because whether it’s something old or new

I still feel at home

Wolverine Stew: Break

clydemg 1 Comment

This is the break between winter and spring

Coal and glass and shells line the rivers

Carving their way through mountains of

Budding trees and rhododendrons

The clouds make the sun come down in rays

And along the cliff’s edge I can see

Vultures take flight alongside

A raven finding a home on thawing branches

Its call echoing through the trees

Part of the woods are scorched

Singe marks at each base of bark

And ashen earth, but beneath it

I can still see deep mossy greens

And on and on I note the

First flowers I’ve seen this year

The first web I’ve seen this year

The first deer I’ve seen this year

Wandering past swings yet to be used

The sun sets behinds wisps of orange

The sky open, free of any light below

And I know the cold will return

Before it goes away again

But for now, I take this moment

This is the break between winter and spring

Wakesleeping

Mattie Grace Levy Leave a comment

Awake with dread in a blue room wishing to 

Close my eyes knowing that with every passing 

Moment my mind, quenching tears creates time tombs.

Who knew that sorrow could cure happy living 

Water is healing when thinking how, or who

Gets to be, gets sleep, gets to keep succeeding. 

Loneliness feels best when striving for greatness

I wonder how I’ll sleep when there’s nothing less.

Make my bones like papier-mâché 

So that I may be whole while hollow

Create my mouth like calculator 

So that my speech may be accurate while calm

Humble my ears like honey 

So that I only see what is sweet