Undesired ©Lyn Crain

Undesired ©Lyn Crain

I lie

withered beside

the road like

a broken little bird

to confused to fly.

My neglectful state

is apparent

even to the most

oblivious of

the oblivious.

Anger and frustration

sustained me

initially

but even that

energy has faded

leaving a pitiful wisp

of what I once

was.

Now, a memory

shuffled among

many, I’ve

lost value

over time

until all

that is left

of me is

dust.

The Random Titles Spoke©LynCrain

The Random Titles Spoke

©LynCrain

My Brilliant Friend
wound
A Spool of Blue Thread
In The Little Paris Bookstore
For a man Called Ore.
He gave it to
The One With You
The Luckiest Girl Alive.
They had
The Milk and Honey
while we watched
The Murder House
In a Dark, Dark Wood Room
I remember when he
went to the other
One with You
and
The Boys in the Boat
acted like
The New Jim Crow
when
Alexander Hamilton
entered.
The Power of Habit
from their
Barbarian Days
rattled a
Dead Wake
to
Quiet,
oh the SILENCE
spoke more
than any title
could to me.

Using book titles as inspiration from New York Times Book Review. The titles are in Italics to distinguish them.

Purple People Aliens©LynCrain

All that I see or seem is but a dream within a dream.~
Edgar Alan Poe

Purple Alien Woes

©Lyn Crain

Whoa, the pot belly was smoking hot,
when the door popped right open.
Out came a huge stream of violet,
not sickly sweet smelling lilacs aroma
but a genuine one horned purple alien.
Hey sea monkey, is it safe out here?
I’m really feeling frigging frenzied
after I heard all those crazy humans
sing songs about a one-eyed,
one-horned, flyin’ purple people eater.
How did they know when I came to earth,
that I hid in a prickly tree?
Dang it, Sea Monkey,
you spilled your gut
didn’t you? Can’t trust an urchin!
Oops, I thought you wanted
to play in their band.
You know
Let the good
oh rock and roll
shake up
that horny horn
of yours.

This came about from a prompt that required the following words: sea monkey, pot-belly stove,  purple alien and tree.

The Tree © Lyn Crain

The Tree © Lyn Crain

I was a mere spindly sprout when
the boy planted me outside his window.
My torso thickened and my limbs sprawled
over the years. I nurtured baby robins
tucked in my crannies hidden by my leaves
from any predators view. I was so proud.
I shaded the boy and his family on hot summer days.
I listened to their stories as they rested
against me. I was there when they were silent, too!
I bowed in respect to all the different seasons without
complaint. I did it all for him. He who gave me life.
I watched him go from a human sprout himself to a grown man.
One day, he brought home a girl she was so nice to me.
Now, she lives here too! I really like her voice,
she sings when she visits me. Music makes me feel happy.
One day, I heard a unfamiliar new sound, I liked it a lot.
The man told the young one about planting me.
I straightened myself up, love sure feels good ,
even to a sappy old fool like me.
The man hoped we would be good friends. I knew we would.
I watched over the boy while he played in my bountiful shade,
and the robins sang their lyrical songs. Life was good.
There was a terrible storm and I lost a branch one evening
but they were safe. I stood strong and faced the wind down.
One sunny day, the man and the boy leaned against me while
they talked about his high school baseball game.
Has it really been that long? Oh my, the boy brought
home a girl just like his Dad, they visited me often
though I wasn’t as robust as I once was.
It seemed like I noticed the weather more now
and my leaves didn’t grow quite like they did.
But the humans didn’t seem to mind.
One day, the older man and the boy
brought another visitor to meet me,
oh that sound was music to my ears.
Another sprout for me to watch over as I did the man and the boy.
Was I up to this after another difficult winter?
That dang Mother Nature stole another one of my limbs.
I was feeling my age but I couldn’t let on.
I had a job to do. Time sure flies when you are having fun.
It wasn’t that long before the youngest boy was
climbing me, he told me he was going to touch the moon.
I tried to stand strong like I always did but today…
I shuddered and broke. His cries shattered my heart
His young body crashed loudly against my old roots.
Their silence could be heard for miles.
I long for their voices but they don’t come anymore.
It’s just me and my creaks withering, waiting to die.

48 lines

Ode to My Joe © Lyn Crain

Ode to My Joe

© Lyn Crain

Oh its heady fragrance can be
so smoothly intoxicating
your smoky aroma wets my appetite
as the sun rises, the beginning
of a new adventure, my addictive mind
says I need you to invigorate my senses,
tease me to step out of my comfort zone.
I remember when I was a mere wisp of myself
the novelty of your power was
fiercely intimidating yet compelling
me to drop all pretense of control.
You frightened and lured me like
a moth to a flame. I could not
resist, although I struggled
in vain, my addiction was to much.
You laughed at my feeble attempts
to withdraw because
I was scared of all the negative
propaganda surrounding you.
You assured me… it was all lies
Your sweet whispers told me
I would never feel so good
with anything like this again.
I waivered…
afraid of the me without you.
I threw caution to the wind and
slowly sipped, savoring your
heat while ignoring the
bitter after taste that
lingered on my breath.
I surrendered and let myself
float into the dark spiral
of an addicts life
I lived, my passion for you
fulfilled briefly….

The Stroll©Lyn Crain

 

The Stroll
©Lyn Crain

Walking with my best friend
hand in hand, emotions ripple
between us like a babbling brook
after a heavy spring rain.
Erratic at times, occasionally
a mere trickle but that’s okay
silence often says more.
Expressions from the heart
grow like roses sometimes
heady and fragrant in
the early stages and leggy
with thorns in the difficult
times but strong enough to
weather the seasons.
Seeing is believing, yet
there are times when
closing ones eyes and
simply absorbing the details
is more powerful.
Walking with my best friend
in the garden of life
tasting all the bountiful
fruit, sharing the juices
bitter and sweet until
fate intervenes.

25 lines