Here is a helping of poems for this week’s Poetry Potluck.  http://jinglepoetry.blogspot.com. Tell me what you really think, will get around to changing “freaking’ on my last Potluck offering and answering everyone too!

 

 

An Ambidextrous Life

 

My interests are like my hands, ambidextrous;

And I have never met anyone else ambidextrous.

I take up my pen with my left hand,

but use my scissors with the right.

I think it’s day but secretly wonder  if it might be  night.

My thoughts make rain in the sunlight,

and stars that  glimmer in a tempest.

 

Sometimes   I’m an old woman,

sometimes I’m a little girl.

The piece that doesn’t fit the puzzle,

the flag that won’t unfurl.


I want to belong to being me,

to not care about the difference,

it will be less lonely,

peace in my mind’s resistance.

 

Wishes

 

Do you ever wonder what happens to the wishes

pinned to pennies

tossed into a fountain?

 

The pennies settle

on the bottom,

do the wishes

settle there too?

Maybe the wishes

float to the top,

hope rising.

Maybe the wishes

turn envy-green,

A variety of low value coins, including a (his...
Image via Wikipedia

corroding like copper coins.

 

If the pennies are stolen,

are the wishes

snatched away too?

Maybe the wishes for love

never come true.

Wishes to restore a life distorted

never again will be whole?

But no.

A penny is just a penny,

you reassure me.

Wishes never really go away.

 

Rapture Not-So-Ready

 

Betty was rapture ready, but Veronica got left behind.

 

 

I  have a confession to make,

as  though my very soul is at stake.

I have to admit,

and hope I  don’t  roast  on a spit,

or, hell,  just throw me into a pit,

where for eternity I will sit;

But I really must admit,

This Rapture thing.

I’m not so ready for it.

 

The Fundies have their bets on 2012,

the Mayans did too,

Someone says this May without delay,

Weeeeee!!!


 

as birds drop from the sky,  FLOP!

I’m not so ready for the Rapture

or those raptors falling down, eww.

 

Blondie sang about the Rapture,

Dante put in his two cents on hell  too,

Will the  Left Behind authors  laugh

when I know not  what to do?

Rapture,  I’m not so ready,

mercy for me  I implore you.

 

Will I really have to watch

as others disappear in the clouds,

knowing that in heaven I’m not allowed?

 

I try to be good,  God.

But I am of the world that you put me in.

I don’t want to be left behind,

but I don’t want to leave yet either.

I want to love someone and be loved ,

I want to matter somehow in the world,

and maybe be an author (eh, why not?).

Alas, I’ve done neither.

I’m not so ready for the rapture yet,

can we postpone it  a bit?

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