Friday, February 28, 2014

Pirate Samba (Poem 333)

Slippery, picky path
almost intoxicating
hard-driving pirate samba,
profane, fairly cloudy 
salacious material,
a bell-ringing distraction
diverting quintessential
ceremonial intersection 
of sugarcane and copper
cow bells

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

Thursday, February 27, 2014

Spring magic (Poem 332)

Bluebells  woods
Green filtered light
Spring's sweet magic
Clear cold nights
Secret blossoms
Presage fruit
Full and round
And ripe

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Welcome (Poem 331)

One simple morning, 
mountain folding back 
a golden rose blanket 
from its shoulders, 
first gaudy sunrise 
biting at the heels 
of winter's dark rain. 

One simple song 
on the radio, swaying 
in rhythm with northbound 
tires, taillights a swathe of 
crimson sequins draped 
over the rippling highway. 

One simple day, love 
and light a glimmering cloak 
whose only opening 
allows the future to seep in, 
unannounced, anticipated, welcome...

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Foolish Turtle (Poem 330)

Foolish turtle,
   walking your solemn course
   to nowhere 
Peering skeptic,
   the process pleases 
   you best
Some swift, grinning tart
   drifting in your wake
   may try to pass, but 
You, puffed up and solemn,
   forgive the interlopers 
   in your quest 
   for a pickled beet and 
   a perfectly uneventful day

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

Monday, February 24, 2014

New (Poem 329)

Tumbling lines 
of curvaceous 
skyscrapers pushed
this way and that
by black patent 
leather reflecting 
the sky    bands of 
brass and grasses 
Norwegian pine and 
glass    blue steel 
sequins glinting 
in the sun    no corners 
no cornices no clay    
powder maize peach 
and mint    cool 
liquid Jordan almond 
candy poured 
sweet and creamy    
making every side 
the sunny side of the 
newly paved streets

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

Sunday, February 23, 2014

Katja (Poem 328)

Billows of white
silk    swirling 
clouds caressing 
ankles    hands
benevolent mist 
silently   assured
of admiration
and contentment

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

Saturday, February 22, 2014

Search Wildly (Poem 327)

Search wildly 
    the spirited moon, 
consider the indigo sea.
You loved and were 
    clearly triumphant,
surprised by the pinch 
    of the years, 
fatigued by their 
    eccentric dance,
but brave to have 
    taken the chance.

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

Friday, February 21, 2014

Morning Sketch (Poem 326)

White paper, black ink,
Coffee in cherry-red mug,
Now, saved for always

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

Imperfection is beautiful :)

Thursday, February 20, 2014

The Lie (Poem 325)

Shaken by the idea of taking advantage, 
yet not enough to resist telling him what he 
wanted to hear, she knew the lie would remain, 
lightly folded and slightly threadbare 
from wear and tear, in her lingerie drawer 
for years. 

Who would not agree that happiness is more important than an engagement ring under your pale yellow, satin-encased pillow? 

On Sunday afternoon, at her mother's 
dinner, someone was asking questions.
Immediately, she gathered her cashmere 
coat and private concerns, tied a silk 
scarf around her neck, and said her

An hour afterwards, in a bleak, 
fifth-floor hallway, a certain detective presents a hawk-nosed investigator 
with the list of times and dates, then 
sits, tipped back in his arthritic 
desk-chair, and worries. 

The payments on the incandescent 
diamond ring--which he turns over and over 
in his right hand--are only half-finished, and their train will be departing 
(whether she's married or not) 
at half-past-six.

(c) by Hannah Six

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

One Last Explanation (Poem 324)

His car is new, the grass long 
and bright. They spread a blanket 
under the pines near the chapel, 
unwrap Italian hoagies from 
crackling white butcher paper, and 
eat together, apart. She is ambivalent, 
and finds his manner ingratiating, embarrassingly repentant. 
He hands her a brown paper napkin,
laughs too easily at her half-joking remarks, makes it clear he fears 
she's had enough. And he is right. 
His apologies are a decade overdue. 
The valley spreads broadly beyond 
the little ridge, a film of ocher dust 
tinting the air. His flattery makes her brittle and jumpy. So, when he offers 
his hand to help her up, she 
pretends not to notice, and when 
he allows his lower lip to tremble, 
she stands up, brushes off her jeans, 
and feels for her keys. Following her 
to her car, he subjects her to 
one last explanation, their final 
passage, ridiculous, entangled.

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Hesitant (Poem 323)

Umbrellas of green 
shelter hesitant pink buds 
tricked into blooming

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

Monday, February 17, 2014

Ovation (Poem 322)

Yet I glean 
tomorrow   tonight 
we'll lay in   
my dreamboat   
is not empty
for none will be 
mine   let's sup 
on orange anemone
and wanton red apple   
ovation I want you  
for my sake   I wrote 
in a poem end 
to end (more)   reach 
to the sky   promise 

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

Photo: USAF Senior Airman Joshua Strang (Wikimedia Commons 2006 Photo of the Year)

Sunday, February 16, 2014

Bone (Poem 321)

Although he buried it raw 
hours ago, Dog looks at 
me with pity--I've forgotten, 
and will surely demur. 
He sits in front of the oven,
where a rather large
piece of cow is 
slowly roasting to a 
heart-breaking tenderness. 
You buried it, remember?
Looking down, I encounter 
a pitying pair of 
dark, doleful eyes. 
Of course, he will relish 
my gasp when, after
waiting all winter for 
the bone to cure, 
he pulls what looks like
a human femur--marbled 
with brown and oozing 
marrow--from the mud. 

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Marlene's World (Poem 320)

favored symbols, ancient, versatile--inspired by indigo-warm, 
weather-brushed conscience 

selection of boutique-sweet 
pacts--women giving hope 
under uncomfortable drawstring pasts 
thick with utopia 

short takes of observation 
experiencing varied thick-spirited 
elements, mixed with 
current alpaca-rich traditions 
of aromatic goats, and patronage

festive dream 
spirit of small beauty and organic 
changes in iconic
reclaimed-copper knitting 

feeling perfect
provides the utmost variety 
combining the texture of popped metals 
in gorgeous fusion

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

Friday, February 14, 2014

Confection (Poem 319)

Strings of dancing 
fairy lights 
trailing dreams 
and wishes
through the trees
brighten this night
with memories
deliver the secret 
of a smile
of sunny mornings
and the sweetness 
of watermelon 
on my tongue

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

(Photo: BriYYZ via Wikimedia Commons)

Thursday, February 13, 2014

Shadow Soldier (Poem 318)

Shadow soldier at the fete, 
dancing, teasing, I laugh 
at myself, only in time 
to capture one last glimpse 

Arm around my shoulders, in 
the company of night-masked 
revelers, he walks me into 
the frozen aqua dawn

We step off the path to kiss 
a bit awkwardly--in a patch of
winter berries like droplets 
of blood on the snow--while 
the others go on without us 

Later, alone on the fourth floor, 
amid stacks of dusty volumes 
in German and French, I remember 

His hand in my back pocket 
and the empty city streets 
and the garnet-strewn ground 
and decide I can work with this

Oh, my God, I was so much 
braver when I was young.

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Junk Mail* (Poem 317)

We have recently learned that 
discreet housewives can't say 
goodbye to weight-loss experts;
that hot Chinese girls never 
complete auto repairs or 
trick local Jewish singles;
and that the president waived 
the sexy visions of beautiful 
married women. 
But, what if technology could
restore youthful hair? 
You could already be longer, 
harder, stronger, more... You 
still have time to change 
your perfect panty, 
sell your timeshare, or browse 
profiles of love through faith. 
This 10-second holiday could prevent your heart attack.

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

*Once again, thank you, spammers, for providing such bountiful material and inspiration!

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

The Ashamed (Poem 316)

How do the feverish ashamed
--cheeks prickling, eyes 
glowing and glazed--hide the 
gritty heft of their skeleton keys? 
How do they silence the jangling 
in their pockets that reminds them 
of the rusty-hinged doors they 
closed, of the dark, still passages 
leading there?
How do they capture and 
quiet the trilling flock 
of musical nights and diner days? 
How shade the vivid fury 
of diamonds and daydreams? 
In what gilded cages do they 
display the aging hearts' desires 
and unborn loyalties that would, 
otherwise, fall into a jagged V 
and disappear 
into the southern night?

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

Monday, February 10, 2014

Tsunami (Poem 314)

Long before it 
freight-train rumble 
bearing down
prairie storm inking 
out the horizon
tidal wave of
gunmetal thunderheads 
steamrolling creases 
from hills that glow
eerily in the half-light
claw all you want 
at the cliff's face
they say
this tsunami will break
and you will 
be overwhelmed, 
crumpled and finally
swept out to sea

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

Sunday, February 9, 2014

Pointillist (Poem 313)

plastic food 
premiered park
bicycle bag fashion 
giant jazz butcher 
controlled trellis plane
prison beggars address
exam cactus calculators
aerial satin sparrow 
remote widow 
cream panther fur

(c) 2014 by Hannah Six

Luxe, Calme et Volupté ("Luxury, Calm and Pleasure") by Henri Matisse, 1904. Oil on canvas, 98 x 118.5 cm. Musée d'Orsay, Paris. 

Saturday, February 8, 2014

Look Up (Poem 312)

Odious afternoon that 
precedes the ominous 
night, the gentle tug 
of the clear water lapping 
at your toes. Why not look 
up, scan the horizon? 
The living sand, wet 
beneath your feet, begins 
to suck at your ankles.

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

Friday, February 7, 2014

Attica Road (Poem 312)

High tomorrow 
we found plum 
magical you can fear 
her   you need air
then give her more 
cashmere and deal 
me in Friday
on Attica Road

Be still child of time   
morning will soon be 
the cat's ears are up
in the moon on his May
night time musical habit  
on Attica road

A bad heart can choke 
you   high on a totem
or color coordinated 
pool bar hotel
fearless magical naked
job left back standing
out in a bay 
on Attica Road

His empty tomorrow
a kiss a bow sing
to her   know for
a year or 
more   merry 
pair wrapped 
in a blanket 
on Attica Road 

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

Thursday, February 6, 2014

Banshee (Poem 311)

In northern realms 
grim woman keens 
and cries   lamenting 
twilight souls through 
whose lips murmurings 
of last hopes 
and lost loves 
passed in a whispering 
sigh   how dreadful 
to round the muddy
pathway's bend
and find her 
kneeling over the run
--dark and cold as 
the North Sea--
draped in mist   hands
raw and flaming red
scrubbing blood 
from the clothes 
of your dead
even as they grow cold

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

Photo: Shaun Ferguson 
(via Wikimedia Commons)

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

Who? (Poem 310)

can I say 
goodbye to 
the barrel 
my mouth is empty 
of names, whose 
pain should I 
When the dull ache 
of iron flattens 
the wind-creased 
February night, 
can I cry for, whose 
shattered fragments 
should I gather in 
my thin nylon skirt, whose 
shards glue together 
in my vain efforts 
to reconstruct 
a hard-lost life? 
When galaxies weep, 
and the very stars, 
like shimmering shrapnel, 
rain down 
on peaceful dreams, 
on furtive love, 
on heated words 
that cannot be 
tell me
can I say 
goodbye to?

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

Azaz, Syria 
(Photo: Scott Bob, VoA News, via Wiki Commons)

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Winter White (Poem 309)

Like piped icing, swirls
of snow edge all the eaves
in town, the trees, and each 
wrought iron fence. The swing 
sets sparkle now; the trails,
the slopes are fresh, the
very streets pristine; and
the sacred mountain, always
she wears winter

white, like swathes of sweet
angora brushed to a fizz 
of mist by gales, winds,
each breeze, belying the 
bone-deep freeze that sears 
within her hardened heart, 
where she wears winter

white, September, 
March, and May--no slave 
to fashion, she 
prefers the shade 
of innocence year-round. 
Meringue, whipped cream, 
the color of a prairie storm, 
a pristine pearl, a sun-soaked 
beach where warm, clear 
water kisses sand aglow 
under a brilliant moon--
so round, so full of midnight 
dreams, and she 
wears winter white.

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

Monday, February 3, 2014

Bonfire (Poem 308)

Broken spires and 
shards of flames 
crack open the door 
to dreaming worlds

All around, woods 
are stained with inky 
swathes, whisper 
     their prayers
as night unfurls

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

Sunday, February 2, 2014

Hummingbird (Poem 307)

Floating in the sky, hovering 
in the water, blinded by 
veil upon veil of iridescent 
azure, cerulean, indigo;
Earth's steady breath tilts 
the elements, and I sink
into the rhythm, the soothing 
rise and sway, so that, 
when a thrumming current 
unzips the silence, my heart
dives deep and I rise,
ears prickling, expecting 
something dangerous, 
something swarming, or 
stinging--not this 
sun-struck gem buoyed by 
the strata of afternoon heat,
hurrying from honeysuckle 
to pine on a mission 
of utmost importance.

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

Saturday, February 1, 2014

First Crocus (Poem 306)

Before the advancing army,
a single scout crouches
under the gaunt maple
and tests the air
wary of dangers and
inclement weather, 
carrying the mystery of
the ages, heart silently 
opening to the possibility 
of grace.

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six