Wednesday, August 2, 2017

Clandestine Realism

A classic seventies house
Engulfed within the valley
A lavish cocktail party
Drenched in liquor
Sourced from a tacky
Wooden globe bar
And paired oddly with
Sophisticated margarita glasses

Unexceptional this house is
With the exception
That unlike their
Suburbanite neighbors
Hidden behind
The dull wood paneling
Of this quaintly
Common abode
Is a secret passage
To a wondrous river
Flowing gently below
A metallic silvery blue
From a stargate's glow

If you happen to be awake
During the depths of night
You might witness
A gondola of passengers
From all the realms
Of the universe
From within
A brick tunnel
Camouflaged intrinsically
Underneath the house
Adorned with
The purest white roses
You've ever seen ©

Karen L. Fleming

I think I channeled the narrator from the Twilight Zone on this one. lol

Friday, March 10, 2017

Identity Theft

A dapper young man
Rewrote a rejected novel
On the fringes of Saint Paul
Within the confines
Of a derelict apartment
For the sake of his
Truest love Zelda

But with a stroke of a pen
He vicariously sprinkled
His bethrothed words
Throughout his book
From a love letter
Passionately written
With an ambitious heart
And sincerely laced
With an Alabama twang ©

Tuesday, January 24, 2017

Compassion’s Guidance

The sunless winter envelopes you
When you’re not looking
Clinging to you
With a remarkable reverence
Amid those long frigid nights
When once a homeless man
Cowered beneath
A solemn wooden gazebo
By a spooky fog laden lake
I would calmly look on
Through the midwinter chill
That cared not for who it scorned
With a biting
Twenty degrees Fahrenheit

I pillaged
Through my cupboards
Of a quite barren kitchen
Searching for packaged food
Of any kind
That would warm a fruitless soul
With a foundation of hope
To cleanse away
The cob webs of doubt

I warmed up
A huge bowl
Of spicy chicken soup
Laced with herbs
To pacify
The medicine woman within me
I sealed it with compassion
To keep it fresh and warm
Hoping Jack Frost
Would keep his curiosity
At bay

I made coffee
For no reason at two
On that very murky morning
I stuffed as much food
As I could
In an old grocery bag
Even some aspirin I think
In case the man had a cold
One five dollar bill
In case hunger captured his soul 

Wrapped up warmly
Without hesitation
I opened
My apartment door
So very quietly

I trudged down
The steep concrete slope
My heart palpitating
Bravely within my chest
For the first time
In a quite long while

I crept
Tip toeing ever so gently
Afraid of stirring
The shivering vagabond
On an unyielding picnic table
Terrified of breathing too loudly
For fear he might wake up
And notice who I was

I place the goodies
Down right beside him
And he shifted just a bit
I never spoke a word
I didn’t think it necessary
I didn’t think it relevant
The importance I surmised
Was his survival
Of one more
Wind swept wintry day ©