Category Archives: reblog

Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies (cliches)

A story about Jack and Diane (apologies to John Mellencamp)

Time is money, so to make a long story short…

Jack and Diane were like two ships passing in the night

Diane was always a bridesmaid, never the bride

she was all dressed up with nowhere to go

I’m telling you she was dressed to kill

but you see all that glitters isn’t gold

 you sure cannot judge a book by it cover !

Now, Jack had a face only a mother could love

he was all thumbs

and as thick as a brick

but he was raking in the money hand over fist

unfortunately all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy

however, as they say, beggars can’t be choosers

and everyone knows two heads are better than one

so you can bet your bottom dollar they both learned

love was better late than never

through some twist of fate she was in the right place at the wrong time

he ran in like a bat out of hell

a veritable bull in a china shop

with his two left feet he tripped her up.

Diane went flying ass over tea kettle!

He just grinned and said “fancy meeting you here.”

For her it was not love at first sight

as they say, you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink!

BUT no worries, dear reader

 the bigger they are the harder they fall

and Love is blind so they decided to tie the knot

“Diane, I’ll love you through thick and thin”

“Jack, I’ll love you until the cows come home”

On their honeymoon they lay naked as a jaybirds

and as snug as bugs in a rug

they put a bun in Diane’s oven that very night!

All’s well that ends well!

(Fast forward 1o months)

Jack was  all thumbs and as high as a kite

he managed to throw the baby out with the bathwater!

Diane got all bent out of shape

so its back to the drawing board

I guess you really can’t have your cake and eat it too

catch my drift?

~Melanie Thomason

  • A reblog from June 17, 2013

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Filed under Poetry, reblog

Undoing (with audio)

Black

on grey

on twilight,

the purple dusk

and bruised toenail

sliver of moon.

The trees

are dark beasts

on the horizon

and I rode- I strode,

on my own two-feet

to the gallows,

the sad-sweet moment

of my undoing

its not magic

but something else

altogether—

Like a first smile,

like a newly found element.

Something else,

yes, something else entirely.

There is a face in the moon,

a skull,

a dry, dead grinning thing

and it is this,

it is always this

I return to.

~Melanie Thomason

2013

 

This poem is from my first book, Spectrum: Watercolored Words

get it here!

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Paper Birds

I hope you enjoy this lovely poem of love, loss and healing from Holly. But how can you not with lines like, “I am the flush of peony”

House of Heart

I have unfolded us

like origami,

dissected our borders,

the shadowed corners

of secrets

I have forced into

the light to mourn

like small bones of

birds, somehow sacred.

I have renamed

us where every

memory is not an

ache beneath my ribs

and every  thought is not

an assault on the dead.

I am the flush of peony

the color of healing scars.

pink carnations

google art

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Filed under Blogging Community, People/Causes I believe In, Poetry, reblog

Never Change

Enjoy this lovely, nostalgic feast of imagery from Chris Nelson. Visit his site 🙂

chrisnelson61

He watched the shadows lengthen

Like an old man’s coat

Tails torn by the wind,

Stained by love and loss,

Gone the Alaskan Summer

He’d wished would never change,

When high-hung Suns like mirrors

Kissed each waking hour,

His child-eyes blindly clinging

Translucent lids now closed

Still see the dreamed of constants

Beneath the milky dew,

And as the shadows embrace the night,

A lover’s furtive tryst,

He feels the loss ripped from his skin

And draws his own coat tight.

 

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daydreaming at night

I hope you enjoy this poetry by j matthew waters as much as I did 🙂 Don’t forget to visit his site.

jdubqca


I’ve not seen it all
this movie that weaves
in and out of close encounters

actors are not what they seem
on any kind of stage
whether supported on oak trestles
or razor thin wire

the money flows like milk and money
brewed and bottled on the black market
where trade secrets are available for sale
anywhere from one to a million bitcoin

sometimes I like to daydream
during the night
just to shake things up
excited to rehearse those parts
I’m least familiar with



may two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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Silent Hands

I’ve been spending a little time visiting old friends here on WordPress and I’m so glad to reacquaint myself with the vast and varied talent that lives here. I didn’t know how much I missed them all. Please read this truly touching poem from Paul F. Lenzi. Please visit his site 🙂

Poesy plus Polemics

hands Drawing by FoxAndTheCrow

in her anguish

loud darkness

no room for

the effort

of words

all she needs

is a touch

quiet fingers

to reach

underneath

her despair

take the fear

from her mind

hold her heart

in the palm

of unspoken

affection

one touch

of love’s hand

conveys more

compassion

than penstrokes

of poets

or blessings

of saints

silent hands

can catch

teardrops

lift spirits

if only

for moments

but moments

distinctly

profound

in their power

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your truth

why are you wasting time?

scribbling your words in invisible ink?

like fat fingers

on steamed up mirrors

and foggy windows…

why would you let your truth

disappear

into

obscurity?

it needs to be read, heard & recognized

chisel your words in stone

etch them in glass

hell,

paint the town red with your truth

your voice, your words need to be translated in 24 languages

& written in braille

so even the blind 

can see

your truth.

~Melanie Thomason

2014

This poem is from my book

Moonpies and Naugahyde

A Childhood Survived

Get it here!

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Filed under Moonpies & Naugahyde, People/Causes I believe In, Poetry, reblog

Things you may not know about Papa Noel, Santa or St. Nick…

You think you know Santa? Here is a story that might have you rethinking that. Enjoy this dark tale by Gigi 🙂

Rethinking Life

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Picture from: Pinterest

You think you know me, but you do not.  You make up stories about me and believe they are true, but they are not.  You mold me into what you wish me to be but I tell you, you know me not.  You give me names that suit you, suit your fiction and your beliefs, but do you ever wonder who I truly am?  Do you ask yourself what I am?

Humans are funny creatures, thinking that believing makes it so.  I can assure you that nothing is farther from the truth.  Outside of your slanted and tiny belief system are wonders untold.  Layers of life you are blind to, by choice and by circumstance.  You turn away from the things that do not fit into your story but those things do not disappear, they live on without your consent or acknowledgement.

Names have power, I will…

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