Gangster Solitaire

The four of hearts seemed so vulnerable
Only the three of clubs kept her company
She was surrounded by Black Kings
Black and Red retinue trailing behind them
She had no where to move
No black five would give her refuge
She didn't want to become just another in the line
The other cards
Shifted and move to get the best position
The Queen of Clubs had her Jack
And was prepared to be flattered by his company
But only until the King of Hearts came along
To sweep her off her feet
The Aces don't do nothin
They are four Divas just waiting
Just waiting
Hanging around for all the other action to end
The tension tightens
As cards in threes file past the seven spaces
To see if they will be seated at a table
If they will be allowed to join one of the royal retinues
Everyone is eager to fit
But in good order
Black Red Black Red or
Red Black Red Black
The four of Hearts and her lonely three of clubs
Watch the cards flip by
Almost mocking all who are on the board
The all stare back with a nonchalant hardness
Which comes with a lot of boredom and waiting
Finally out of desperation
The player chooses another game
So the four of hearts was never rescued
Only to show up in another game
Searching for her black five.

Time Warp

Cocky 1930's gangsters
Feeling the control of the world
At the end of a tommy gun
Or Maria Antionette
And let them eat cake
Or the Prisoner
with mind numbing boredom
and 60's solitaire cards taunting me
about the sheer stupidity of today
Fanciful has my mind journey
with no barrier of imagination

Tiger Lilies of Woosamansa Road

This is always one of my favorite roads to drive
Not only that but I love saying it too
Woosamansa
I love the word
Even if I don’t know the Native American meaning
Woosamansa Road
We call it an old cow path
As it twists and turning through the Jersey hills
Old farmsteads come and go on either side
Of the dapple June shaded road
Speckled with sunshine
There are sharp turns left then right
Then woosh around a corner
Down the hill
Next to a stone wall holding the hill at bay
And right next to you
Is a bank of tiger lilies
Waving burnt orange blossoms on the breeze
In front of a stone colonial house
I love driving this road
When I have the chance
Especially when I was young
for all its twists and turns
But also for it countryside historic beauty
The colonial houses
The white one-room schoolhouse
That switchback turn onto Poor Farm Road
Woosamansa Road finally runs
Out to the local highway
Away from the cool dappled
June shaded country
Leaving behind
Those brilliant orange tongues
Beautiful summer fire blossoms
Of the earth’s simple soulful beauty
And some evocative nostalgia
Of youth and summers past

No regrets

I have always lived with the motto
No regrets
It isn’t worth it to look to the past
And wish for what might have been
The past is what it is
Why get caught up in the what if’s
If this or If that
Things I never felt I had
To make my dreams come true
And now wishing I had
Only leads my heart to ache
The small turns in life
Living life a little on the fly
Look now
The glass is half full
With no regrets

Hmm - not sure what to call this

Heavens - you must think i am crazy - all this anger. Well, yes I am to some degree, but I am not going to suject you to this any more. I have started a seperate blog where I can let my angry words run wild and get them out of me. There I will let my anger be my muse. Please feel free to check it out when ever you want. And in between all the anger - any "nice" poems that come out I will post here.

Be well and Blessed Be,
Carolyn

http://princessbard-angerstalk.blogspot.com/

Rage pushed aside

Is this my ghost
Rage pushed aside
Afraid of myself
I didn’t know what to do with it
A woman’s rage
of the horrible truth and knowing
Pain caused in the name of love
all the slights suffered
The more insidious misogyny
Afraid of complete destruction
Burning Madness
Chasing Rage’s illusions
Trapped by going Mad in grief
Never coming back
Reeking havoc
Creating a void
Kali burning in me
A scorched landscape
Fire destroyed
By dragon winged destroyer
Pele’s destructive creation
Just let it burn
Let the flames run through me
Hot flowing lava consume
For I must own it
For to push it awayLeaves it to wander unresolved unclaimed

Subway Preacher

He got on at 66th Street
And got off at 72nd
Tell us all to go and study
The Bible all day
And pray
For the end of the world was coming to end
And we better get around to getting ready
And as he first uttered
Those loud words
A subtle shutter went through the subway car
As 50 or so people ears suddenly did want to listen
And put up some invisible barrier to his words
Some turned up the volume on their ipods
Others glared at him
Perturbed that their silence was broken
Or their nap interrupted
Others went on with their quiet conversations
But there was no escaping his loud urgent words
And the fact he considered all of us lost sheep
Or Divine children gone astray
That as adults
We weren’t capable of making our own choices
That our lives and loves were all wrong
And there lies my rub
An intolerance of being told what I should do
Or that I am not leading a good life now
Or that by stealing myself away from life
I will preserve my life
These are why I closed my ears to listening to him

Finding the awe in the ordinary

Many find NYC awesome
To me it is ordinary
The place in which I live out my everyday life
Ordinary to me
Is what others find extraordinary
Riding packed subway trains at any hour in 24
Having little personal space
Adding my hustle and bustle
To eight million others who hustle and bustle
Walking on asphalt and concrete streets
Along towering canyons of glass and steel
Changing neighborhoods from block to block
Hearing the chattering sing song
Of more languages than I can count
The awe in this ordinary
Is the silence in all the magnitude
And the overlooked singularity
I can only hear it at a distance
While on the el line looking at the skyline
Knowing that behind all those windows
Sometimes noisy things are going on
But from the subway window I only see the buildings
Vast bee hives of activity that I can’t see or hear
Or to look over a sea of humanity
To pick on individual to follow their unique path
Though it has been trampled by millions
And so obscured or missed by only but a few
Believe me there is silence in this city
A place where only seeing past the obvious glittering facade
Through the barrier of glass or air
To where the seeming extraordinary is ordinary

New York City nights

Were I a giant
And New York City
A luminous carpet
Against the night
I could tiptoe among the lights
And pick the prettiest
As a bright glowing bouquet
Let the rest of this glitter lighted grid
Spread out before me
To wander in
As if in
Black grassy fields
Covered in sparkling morning dew
To splash up sparks and fireworks
On my feet
Then I could take in all this amazing buzzing city
And its infinite dazzling wonders



I could gather up
Night lighted
New York City
As a luminous bouquet
To fill my arms
Buzzing with hundreds of languages
Or busy working ants in all those sky scrapers



In a yellow cab crossing the Queensboro Bridge
Into Long Island City Queens
Notice that New York City
Is all laid out before you
And in an instant I want to swallow in whole
All the light of the night
The Pepsi-Cola sign on the East River
The Chrysler Building
And let it light me up inside

Spring Cherry Blossom Showers

Dreary grey the spring morning
Still threatening rain
Damp seeped in to the tired chill air
In the slightest swirl
They were all around
Delicate pink white
Cherry blossom petals
Drifting and dancing
And all of a sudden someone
Turned on a warm light
Playful happy