43

EMPTIED
ah yes a tomb, entombed, non too soon;
for words, presaged this death, divinely ordered;
love takes; well, as we know it;
so who gives of his only, hard to explain

she was struck not by a rock, words from winged ones;
“He is not here, he is risen, go tell Peter and the others”
© gillena cox 2015




Written for the prompt today at
Poems In April DAY FIVE

THE CHALLENGE
The rules for this prompt are simple: write a poem or piece of prose in precisely 55 words.
The optional extra for this challenge is to include a reference to any aspect of Easter in your poem.

42

ONIONS
What does it matter tears adding winks to the aromas; just adding more saltiness i suppose, a scenario of chopping and slicing, slicing and chopping, needs the empathy of wholesome joy, so yes let the tears flow before the hungers are appeased.
What matters then, if you wring your sadness like clothes wet, from the washing tub into the dross of daily menus, into bellies belied of gratitude.
The sauce of ungrudging toil, of course! not like a day at the mines in the earth’s dark womb to triumph the cause of sparkle, sparkling cut stoned diamante
Does it matter if mockery lures the smiles of tired hands and unassuming
gait, into accepting a bargain for a pledge, or a fledge or fledgling passion.
The weight of trump cards played like words at the gaming table, serves to
sweeten the delight of augur. Passion please take your seat to the left of the head table where the carrots cannot not be eaten.
© gillena cox 2015







Written for the prompt today at
Poems In April DAY FOUR - Caution: Tender Buttons

THE CHALLENGE
Read the excerpts from Tender Buttons given and write a short poem about an object, foods, or a room in the style of Stein. If you are one of the many readers who find Stein's work inaccessible or baffling or just not inspired by Tender Buttons???? then your challenge will be to write a poem without any gendered pronouns (she or he).

I CHOSE FOR MY INSPIRATION THIS EXCERPT FROM STEIN'S - ROOMS
Why is there more craving than there is in a mountain. This does not seem strange to one, it does not seem strange to an echo and more surely is in there not being a habit. Why is there so much useless suffering. Why is there.
Any wet weather means an open window, what is attaching eating, anything that is violent and cooking and shows weather is the same in the end and why is there more use in something than in all that.
The cases are made and books, back books are used to secure tears and church. They are even used to exchange black slippers. They can not be mended with wax. They show no need of any such occasion.

41

hummingbird and Barbados pride flower from google dot com



THE GARDEN: FIRST DELIGHT
A pretty garden in sunshine and in rain
Dahlias, Vanda orchids, Barbados pride
Lots more, single petalled and double
Hummingbirds, danced the backwards dance,
That no other bird did, or maybe could not;

The weeds grew unannounced, uninvited;
In lieu of a beating, children pulled these weeds,
To their benefit, venting anger for reproach;
The parents thought they won, let them think so,
Ha!

Children can win, at the game of: "do this, do so,"
Also;
The Pomerac tree, carpeted the sight of friends, and,
Visitors alike, with its very pink, yet delicate blossom fall;
A lovely transition to delicious mealy fruit
© gillena cox 2015



I'm blog hopping today at
Poems In April DAY TWO

40

Pink Poui - Queens Park Savannah; Yellow Poui - Woodford Square; Port of Spain, Trinidad



TIMELY DRILL
Igniting a fire to holiness remembreth,
The flame of Holy Week catches April,
As she slips past the faded edges of March;
Pinks and yellows of poui trees a timely drill

Setting aflame mountain and park
Awesome views of beauty stark
© gillena cox








Written in response to the prompt at Poetry Jam 'The Flame'

39

DayBreak by Katkat-Tan on DeviantArt image from google dot com



NEW DAY
I sketch the dawn with my mouth,
Holding between my teeth twitterings,
And the colours of roosters, alarming
The night to hurried flights of departure;

Swishing, the radiance of morning stars,
Contouring, soft pinks and yellows: pastels,
Designing, early morning repast of orations;
Gums are hidden under a smile of devotions;

Tis dawn! and, it is as he has planned;
With just a single word, this day of mercy;
An offering, a gesture, a coax, a pampering;
Ochres, blast bombed greys, and snowy whites;

I sketch the dawn with my mouth,
After a painting already accomplished.
© gillena cox


I'm blog hopping today at
Poems In April DAY ONE

38

UNDER A DAY MOON
the wide street, is broad enough,
so cars, going up and down,
at the same time, move freely;
that is, if the drivers are courteous enough;
the pedestrian walk, is crackled;
and ever so often, watered down;
dont walk too hurriedly, well any way,
walk with careful caution, observing,
the high parts, and the low parts,
just like life’s undulating;
even though the air currents waft freely;
on a rainy day, when its all wet, even the crackled
grooves, are freed, from the pecking beaks of pigeons;
its awful though, when the men stop on the way,
for a casual pee, against some wall;
not every child, has a daddy with a car;
not every child’s hand, is held by mummy,
all the way to the school gate;
the garbage collectors, remove the trash early,
some days, some days not ;
ah yes! thoughts are sometimes, just observing,
assessing per diem, thespian’s roles and parts;
day moon can tell these stories better, way
way better.
© gillena cox


I'm blog hopping today at
THE TUESDAY PLATFORM

Monday WRites

image: Salome by Henno Drop

You've heard about the Monday Blues ❧✿❧ well this is Monday WRites (musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or practice eg the rite of afternoon tea).
Welcome to Monday WRites #5; whats your mood today ❧✿❧ Link in with one of your WRites


OH SALOME
She danced, she danced to sooth a Kings lust;
A beloved daughter, of a skill so robust;
She danced, she danced to a Kings delight;
A beloved daughter, so limber so light;
She danced, she danced to pierce a Kings heart;
A beloved daughter, this gift was her dart;

Oh Salome, Salome;
You wagered for the head of a holy man;
Oh Salome, Salome;
With such sadness your story began;

John the baptizer,he lost his head;
His disciples then, to mourn him dead.
© gillena cox

Its a public holiday today in Trinidad and Tobago: Spiritual Shouter Baptist Liberation Day

GRAB MY BUTTON
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