Last Chance
What started out twelve months ago, turned into twelve weeks, then twelve days, and not too long ago, twelve hours.
I am nervous, apprehensive, wondering if this is really the right thing to do.
The whole thing will take twelve minutes, and after that, what then? Will it last beyond the next twelve days, twelve weeks, twelve months? Will I be fortunate enoough to see this make the twelve year mark?
Mother told me I would have the jitters, but this is really scary, but when I say, "I do" then a new world begins. Am I really ready for this? And what do I do if I have twelve kids?
And to think, I turned down the chance to be a nun.
12bpm
twelve beats per minute
as God hums in me
underneath where my heart’s
supposed to be
aching throb
then below
where emptiness
lies, flies stick to an ointment
i never wanted
the things i saw to happen
something else did
not me
still, rainbows
of eggshell whites
to unstarred nights
tear an arc over my skies
the trajectories of things
I don’t want to carry
lobbed over distant hills
across vacant seas
w̶h̶i̶s̶t̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ h̶o̶w̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ wailing at me
they’re still there
even when the sun shines
even when light peeks inbetween
before the blue sheet turns tinfoil
and gives me respite in the rain,
camo over their songs
till my ears flush red again
Inspiration
Twelve Seconds
Thats all it took
To take a peek
And get a
Good Look
His eyes were
Cruel
His lips were
Curled
In an evil
Smile
that could
Shatter
the world.
I thought to
Myself
He's perfect
If this
Villian beyond my
Door could
Spook me to my
Core
By standing in the
Shadows,
What more could he do
If he
Wielded a
Sword!
He could laugh as a
Mainiac does when
He's got an
Idea
He could come up with
Evil plots
That make you
Shake in your
Shoes
This villian on the
Threshold of my mind
Stepped in without
Invitation
He strutted with
Confidence
Smiled with
Malice
Raised his hands and said
"At your service."
What's his name?
I know not yet
But
Inspiration has
Struck
I must not let it go
It cannot get away
Excuse me as I take my pen and
Invite my villain to stay.
Twelve
The teacher breathed in the soil rich scent of the earth as he lay down. He closed his eyes. It had been a long day. He was tired. The wind rustled the thin branches of the shrubs dotting the hillside. It stirred the hem of his robe.
It is chilly this night, the teacher thought. It may take time to fall asleep.
He opened his eyes. The stars were just beginning to emerge. The teacher counted each speck of light as it surfaced in the blue-black sky.
One,
Two,
Three,
Four,
Five
Six,
Seven,
Eight,
His eyelids fluttered. He tried to keep them open by force.
Nine,
Ten,
He gave in but continued to count.
Eleven,
Twelve . . .
Fairy Tales
Twelve princesses dipping and twirling,
Holding the edges of large hoop skirts,
Unaware of me in the invisible cloak.
I don't dance, yet I wanted to while listening
To my mother's melodic yet tired voice
As she read the book a third time.
A few weeks later, she got me another,
About twelve dancing brothers and their stepmom
Who followed and saw how happy they were
When they were out dancing instead of home.
I didn't know then that they were the same,
Just a different setting and a different time
And Nikes and Converse rather than heels.
I had had books with kids that looked like me
But not everyone did, as I learned one day,
When I snuck the book to school in first grade
And my teacher read it to everyone in class.
I'm too old for Grimm and pictures of princesses
Though I still think of them and Rumpelstiltskin
And wonder how many others I haven't read
And how many fairy tales I have without knowing it.
Twelve
She picked twelve hairs from her head, laid them out
across the table in a row of crooked lines
as if they were cracks
and she counted them again and again
one, two, three
and on and on
the clock’s a circle and now she can’t stop because
every time she gets to twelve it keeps on going
round to one again.
She took twelve licks of the ice cream cone that
melted down her fingers, chocolate
drips like powdered blood drying
on her wrists
and then twelve more, twelve more,
until it was gone and she
felt lost because
what was there left to do now?
She sang twelve songs
without stopping, no talking
while the notes rolled off her tongue
and she thought she might know what had
been wrong before, and when
she had finished
the twelfth song,
she paused
and sang another one.
Journey of Twelve
A direct route to a point in time,
To a memory of joy, fun and hope
A spring awakening of a cherry blossom
The newness of existence infecting the air.
A turn leads onto a path of curves
Like a snake moving slowly in the long grass
Bringing the truth of all things living,
Destruction, lies and more
Overtaking any glimmer of hope
Of happiness and love desired.
Another turn, a final route,
Biting as cold as a winter freeze
Touching as the darkest of nights,
To a destination, of Twelve journey’s end
A sigh of relief, a free spirit evermore.
by GinaM