Cleaning Day II

The Craftsman Wet/Dry vacuum
inhaled a yard of dirt and grass
from the garage floor on a sucking rampage
leering at the treadmill and weight equipment
freshly wiped down with ammonia
baying at the bottom
of two mirrors sprayed with Windex
dried to a streak free shine.
It howled inside the gold Hyundai
leaking soapy residue on the chipped cement floor

then pulled me to the Studio
where it jumped at the dusty cobwebs
spiders and centipedes
dead and alone.

Napping
this afternoon
now that it
has had
its fill.

Poetry Slam

I smell the sweet ginger
lei hanging from my office door
another birthday gift
from my son.

It makes me proud to be his mom

proud that I went last night
to something W A Y
out of my comfort zone

a poetry slam

where the average age in the room
put me into the mold category
sweet mold
but mold nonetheless. I loved meeting Kealoha
waiting in the wings
having my name called out, I loved that I was spot-on
my delivery, my timing.

And guess what
they gave me a 10
and some eights
and a seven point something or other
but H E Y, I did it.

I got up in front of
total strangers; the hot, and the self-righteous
the chubby and the unprepared.

and I delivered my lines and I forgot about being nervous
because I O W N E D that stage
I owned my poem
I owned my precious three minutes and
ten seconds and no one booed or hissed

Or said get off the stage Auntie.

And there was real talent in the room
Real honest-to-Jesus talent and it lifted me up
enforcing my belief in my new religion

A warm and fuzzy peach in the eye of the storm

And I saw Liz Soto of Youth Speaks
and I thanked her for being my inspiration
Mentioned her name on stage and she thanked me for that.

And we hugged.

My husband Tommy even said
He was proud of me.
That you poets are C R A Z Y
but that I showed spunk, that in spite of everything
I did get up and perform my poem
that I had practiced for weeks, polished like a diamond.

I think it caught him off-guard.

He said, that ten o’clock was way past his bedtime

that was why we had to leave before the end.

Before the esteemed author, Karen Finneyfrock, had
completed saying what she came there to say.
I heard her first three poems though.

And I was glad I did.

Because I K N O W I heard
what I was supposed to hear.

And well the rest will come soon

because I am a champion
not a quitter.

And free styling or practiced

It is MY TIME.

So step aside slam poets
plan to perform paperless
because I am here now
and my strong words
are dangerous.

Aiea Loop Trail

4.8 mile loop

Koa and Ohia trees
line tree rooted paths.

Backsplash

San Souci beach wall

wave action prompts photo-op

splish-splash excitement.

Diamond Head Hat Collection

Diamond Head’s rim view

Contributions optional

Trades 5-15

Barter is available

for lithe quick-thinking shoppers.

Phantasmagoria

 Twisting my way

into a dark jungle

pushing past awkward and wild.

As a valiant oak offers

cool shade

from the blistering sun.

Long forgotten leaves

surrender their hold

fall away

and expose old scars.

Submissive browns

reconciled reds and oranges

long-suffering yellows

raked and

heaped into piles

ready to finally

appease the gods.

A kaleidoscope

briefly

soothing the ache

that gnaws

like a fungus

mushrooming

white circles on the lawn.

Screamer

Sizzling screamer

passionate red head tips game

publishes dark tome.



Hole in the Ko'olau

Kamehameha's

legendary hole in cliff

to spot invaders.

Autumn Show

Autumn

croons

jazzy tune

trails

La Lune

in

harvest

swoon.

Windward Times— Special Edition, September 29th 2010

***A prose poem written in pidgin english

Da gross cockroach militia stays booming in da plumbing
in da face of mass killings in Kaneohe town.
Small kine remenants was seen unda da kine drain stops.
Our leaders met at da G8 summit behind braddah Kimo’s drainpipe stay Kahalu’u.

Kimo was heard to say—“Wat and you still alive?”

Rumors have pop up dat da militant Ant Army stay invading us on account of dey stupid leader,
da kine Mack-Mood I-Stay-One–Damn-Jerk,
who won one nodda election by his bullying.
We stay on da threshold of war. I repeat da invasion stay soon.
Bans going be carried out.
It was agreed dat furda talks going need happen
maybe next month at da Cockroach U. N. behind Auntie Carol’s Pearl City Bowl.

On one nodda note, da Common Myna’s
stay spurtin tru-out da Windward side.
Dis roach reporter saw
mass sightings of bird kookai-- piles brah!
Dis one--major.
Tunnels stay being blocked.
Dey was warned…. Bring yuz guys shovels we tink dey got one pony in dea.

On one lighter note,
Da Annual Cockroach Ball stay happening mid-October, try let dem know soon
if you stay come--eh?

Lady Gaga, Janet and Cher, our hot cuzins on da mainland,
stay proud to announce da grand opening dea new consignment store
at da site of da old Arakawas in Waipahu
dea got da kine gently used gowns wit wing slits on top
plus matching roach bags, titanium jewelry and get sticky spike shoes fo grab sweets
jus in case you need dance and run. Titas--No bring da kids--eh!

Dis just In--Da human peoples in da state still no more job,
us being watched, but brighter days coming,
Ho--da deadly freakin gas nearly gone wat!

In Sports—Wings Flapporino da Flyin Hawaiian scores da winning touchdown
winning over dea arch rival, Boots Black of da Bedbugs—who defeated da Stinkbugs from Philly last year --Final score, 32-2.

Weather Alert—Partly cloudy wit remote kine showers—Highs stay in da low 80’s, Lows stay in da low 60’s Same as always—brah! Hey baboose--Try keep da storm drains closed and carry one snorkel—no need floaters, downpours stay flooding low lying pot holes-one risky bugga dat!
Try member da numba one cockroach rule, cuz--Safety First!

We stay proud to bring you dis edition of da Windward Times

Paid for wit cash by Butterfly Airlines, da junior of Monarch Butterfly

Flying Furda den da Rest—Cos Can!

Ancient Birthing Stones--Koolau Golf Course

Ancient birthing stones

isolated ocean view

spiritual flow.



Searching for a Savior

They called him

teacher,

skilled and

wise.

They feared

his gaze

the fire in his eyes.

He did things

that they could not explain

why

they sold him

in exchange

for their pain.

He came with a special guarantee

believe it

and you will be set free

but science later

came along

and put their blinders back on

to wander lost

throughout time

without a savior

powerless to find.

A host of casualties

to heap up the cost

in this village of the damned

forever lost.

Plumbing Hell

**This is my creation---using real places and an ancient ruler whose bones remain hidden today.

     Kamehameha I was also known as The Great One

The supernatural

lurks
beneath the plumb
of perception
waits in misery
and obscurity
for discernment.

Sometimes
you can hear them
as you hike
up the Stairway to Heaven.

Climbing up steep
cliff ladders with
howling winds at your back
the almost imperceptible
low chanting and drums
between the undulating peaks
shrouded in mist.
Pointing
to the petroglyphs
naming
the hidden path
to the secret tomb
of The Great One
a formidable foe
even in death.

Calling up things better left alone
as an apparition appears
somber

from beneath miles of sediment.

Larger than life
intent to lead
his army of
night marchers.

Blood-thirsty
lips cry
bewitch waterfalls
unlock ancient doors
between emerald cliffs

waking hell’s elite mercenaries

a foul eruption
panting in the shadows
hungry for flesh
leering in the gloom
as he
brutally stabs
a black widow.

Her web
thick with
motionless prey
entombed
and screeching
his name.

Blue Angels

Slice sky

blue pie

solo cross

diamond floss

smoky exhaust

spiral gravity

pure depravity

ozone cavity.

Night Music

The north wind gasps in
the wee hours as
pipes play and ghosts dance
across the coast highway, wreaking havoc.

 
Naani is one of Indian's most popular Telugu poems. Naani means an expression of one and all.

It consists of 4 lines, the total lines consists of 20 to 25 syllables. The poem is not bounded to
a particular subject. Generally it depends upon human relations and current statements

Wishful Thinking

Wishful thinking

is something we  adopt
a bright idea that comes at the worst possible time
and stays long after its welcome is worn out
like an old pair of garden gloves
with holes in the fingers
comfortable, but they no longer
do the job.

Unable to let them go
you then
try to fix them,
when one surely disappears
you convince yourself that sooner or later it will turn up
and everything will work out, but it never does.

Not until long after
you’ve thrown its mate into the trash
and it’s been hauled away
by that giant yellow truck
reeking of dead fish and stale beer.

Mask

MASK

death mask

preserved age

displayed in Cairo

enameled gold and gems
guarded the soul from evil

“Egyptian clay mask remedy”

Pedicure

Feet
soak in
tepid swirl
nails clipped, shaped, filed.
Cuticles pushed back
calluses shaved, feet scrubbed.
Moisturizer massaged deep
into toes and calves up to knees
energizing tired feet and legs.
Red nail bed summons white hibiscus sketch.

Confessions of a Pioneer Woman

My name is Gert


my corset hurts

my hair is fine

wrapped tight with twine.

My day begins

before the sun

with cows to milk

and chores a ton

My husband died

from the grippe

left me

six kids

and a buffalo chip.

The banker said

his last check bounced

across the prairie

unannounced

I’m good at sewing

can make a mean pie

spin a tall yarn

look you dead

in the eye.

I’ll groom your horse

keep the home fires

burning

just get me out

of this

butter churning.

You Might Be a Poet

1. If you have ten or more poetry books or your nightstand in various stages of being read

You might be a poet

2. If you have wallpapered your bathroom with rejection notices

You might be a poet

3. If you wake up in the middle of the night to write down an interesting word or phrase

You might be a poet

4. If you carry a small notepad in your pocket or purse and a fancy pen

You might be a poet

5. If you have heard of Ted Kooser or W.S. Merwin and know what they have been recognized for

You might be a poet

6. If you write a poem a day for fifteen months straight

You might be a poet

7. If you go to poetry readings held by someone called the Poetry Pope

You might be a poet

8. If you write grocery lists and what you are packing for a trip, in an ABCdarian

You might be a poet

9. If you  understand what a clarity pyramid is

You might be a poet

10. If you like writing by a strict set of rules but can’t find the top of your desk

You might be a poet

11. If you spend all day tweaking a poem that’s already finished

You might be a poet

12. If you have been coming to Lillian’s classes for four or more years or have been published in
The Rain Bird

You might be a poet.