Not The Rockefellers

photo by Rene Foran ~ January 2011 twenty days til Spring can ya dig it?  if i didn't need my hat i'd fling it twenty days 'til darlin' buds be springin' all up  in neighborhoods but keep your boots on  baby  get ready  for floods cuz mountains of snow make puddles of mud Rene ~ February 2011

I need the sea because it teaches me ~ Pablo Neruda of milky white springtime innocent  valley splendors i sing psalms of moody indigo lustful moon  mountain carvings i write sonnets but  it is for you, teacher i thirst always  for that poetic mouthful as you come back turned 'round ready to leave i am again breathless wordless Rene Foran ~ February 2011

drinking coffee from the mug you left behind accidentally though i choose to believe intentionally in lieu of having  there is the holding Rene ~ 2013

David Wethey/N(DavZPA/Associated Press (avid Wethey/NZPA/Assoated Press this is the hour of wonder a time where wait and see and hide and seek  cease to be games the streets are silent wrinkled brows speak volumes swing sets, steeples  and stomachs in knots this is the eve of answers with dawn comes discovery sifting, sweeping, shifting  changes in view  everything we held  everything we believed to be always and iron shook loose in minutes in pieces Rene ~ 2011 My prayers are with the people of New Zealand and for anyone who is struggling through  difficult, sudden changes and choices in their lives. This was a Magpie Tales submission click this sentence for more information.

fortune tumbles hits at the peak and rolls down  weathered granite finding it's way towards filling a need naturally man made concrete  halts it's progress a dam that does not give for safety's sake that's the claim it makes while down below the thirsty, hopeful valley eyes the sky and cries unlock, quench us  with what is fair and what is right but this wall does not stand to reason peace - Rene

with her fingertips she crossed a line through his godly myths and they fell easily crumbling  into sand for that display he plucked out   her ivory a punishment she surely would not stand just renounce your faith and this  will all end! he pleaded urgently one by one she spat out rubies smiling beatifically with angry arms he gathered up kindling prepping her for  sauté she knelt down, lit the fire, and crawled in singing... you've no need to show me  the way Rene ~ February 2011

shake us from this cellar exceedingly fierce into the sea take care as we are legion too many  to count too mighty to pass we are the rubble caught looking back cast us not  over bread  nor shoulder but rather the backs of swine may we drown this unrelenting sorrow and finally  know peace Rene ~ Febrauary 2011 Post or enjoy other Magpie Tales by clicking on this sentence.

here we are stuck in between a spinning rock  and a heavenly place hanging on doing the best with what we got marking out our time in this space all together though the miles may separate us we all feel that same sun on our face realizing we are the framebuilders of tomorrow and the future we must embrace and that... peace wins step by step together looking out for and loving our neighbors peace wins peace wins and that will always be the case ~ Rene February 2011 Photo by Sean McCormick To learn more about  Sean ,  visit his website: http://www.neutralhillsstills.ca/index.php To learn more about One Stop Poetry click this sentence.

I have been an abusive daughter. I have treated my mother just terribly.  I don't give her anything to drink or eat, I don't give a shit if she's crawling with infestation or even clean. And I couldn't care less. Really. Her caretaking actually fills me with ennui. It should be pointed out, that before you dial social services, I am talking about Mother Earth.  And since I don't normally walk around saying Mother Earth, lest I get the "Oh God 360" eye roll... today, in this post, I am calling my yard, Mother. Ya dig ? Fortunately for Mother, a few sweet words from a friend have inspired me to spend some quality time with her. Plus, my neighbors are all beginning to think I'm an asshole. They're a little slow in that regard. And despite all my big talk a moment ago, I really have been feeling twinges of guilt  about the state I have let my mother fall into. Her hair is uncombed and full of pests. Her skin is dry and cracked. She is an abo...

green line saturday afternoon just me and a book until  he spoke well over the legal limit two fingers above what would be  considered normal  speaking volume stranger  on a train no danger just a conversation no, make that a performance no, make that a confession no, just please... please listen to me monologues of the lonely verbal graffiti Rene ~ February 2011

we sit here, set apart shunned by a world carefully taught put in our place to them, the righteous we have fallen from grace our names, fables synonymous with sin cursed at dinner tables then beautifully written on shards of clay what a wicked, malicious game for grown-ups to play Rene ~ February 2011 Magpie Tales is celebrating it's one year Anniversary! Please celebrate by posting, or just enjoying the writing.

silver white line upon  your thigh i kiss  your mouth and taste the stars the moon   has become  my rival Rene ~ February 2011

Sometimes I just need to take a “time-out” from humans at some point in the day. During lunch, instead of going to the staff room, which had become a nightmarish brew of burnt popcorn and the latest gastronomic atrocity from Lean Cuisine, I decided to sit in the church hall and read my book. It’s quiet in there and it smells like incense and candles… Church-y And it's a good place to get hid. I settled in a cozy nook in the church hall with my book, enjoying the silence, until I heard the shuffling of Hush Puppies. The church ladies had arrived and were set to prepare some sort of mailing. Church ladies are scarily organized when it comes to mass mailings, and they will talk smack about you after novena if you can't tri-fold a letter correctly. There were four of them, about 118 years old apiece and dressed for JFK's inauguration, each of them taking a seat around a large work table. Outfitted with wet sponge bottles, envelopes, letters and those rubber fing...

puttanesca tickles my nose pulls me through  these streets, eyes closed Mamma Sally, she knows how to fill my bowl daughter of the old country pulled up her roots for the better life,  the big city Mamma Sally, she knows how far the red brick goes raising up tomatoes to the sky from her window box piazza seven stories high Mamma Sally, she knows how her garden grows olive oil, garlic, basil in harmony hymns of joy the blessed holy trinity Mamma Sally, she knows how to save my soul Rene ~ February 2011 Submitted for Magpie Tales #51 ~ Come join, write and enjoy!