We thwart not the sun or the moon, the movement of planets, the coming of rains or drought. We neither thwart our birth nor death. We try to thwart what our hearts feel And the desires with which it plagues us, But our hearts feel and desire still. Even our tears cannot be thwarted-- though they may not fall, the tears fall unseen.
With my thoughts dried out,
cracking like the earth,
the seeds of some miniscule truths
take root within my chest
sprouting monstrous vines to wind down,
clawing into this cracking earth
until escape cannot be had–
the only tiny truth contained within the seeds,
the simple one of sacrifice
in the day to day.
Today’s prompt— Write a poem using evanescence, trill, and longevity.
When
dreams held up the sky
the edge of sea could cleanse a soul
magic chimed in the songs of birds
the universe trilled with vibrancy contained in starlight
the evanescence of our lives unquestioned
then hope, golden and shining, possessed eternal longevity.
Lightning cracked the sky today
Very nearly tethering Desire and Want,
Who entwined, rolling from edge
To edge of the horizon—
And I walked,
Thinking I’d make it home
Before pelting rain could chill
My heated sweating skin.
But I did not.
Clothes soaking,
Wet through—
I made it home,
Trailing water drops
Down the hall.
Finally, dry and warmed,
Dressed in fresh clothes,
I looked outside
To find a pink sky,
With clouds tethered
To the earth like me.
I am honored to be featured on Masticadoresusa.wordpress.com
Upon Walking
by Annette Kalandros
[author’s site]
Linger here
In this vibrancy of opalescent color,
This swirling silken scent,
Hide the realities away
For they intrude too much
Upon this, this sweetness of longing—
Let me wake, reaching out a hand
tracing air as if following the curves of her
warm skin in memory
@Annette Kalandros
ABOUT US
Welcome to MasticadoresUSA.
MasticadoresUSA was founded byJuan Re Crivello as part ofGobblers/Masticadoresin 2021. Its current editor isGabriela Marie Milton.
MasticadoresUSA features talented writers of poetry and short prose. We primarily publish writers who write in English, and are based in the USA. However, while the publication language remains English, we also welcome the work of our fellow writers from all over the world.
What do we want to bring to our readers? Edgar Allan Poe once wrote:Poetryis the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.This…
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Walking in fractured twilight
Is the smoothest time of light and mind–
A wish made–
To braid reality, this curve of light, with sweetest memory
Thus, so entwined
One begins to hope,
Believing in miracles once again
To spite all fractures made of years.
In the long ago
Youth’s armor
Stripping down fates
In acknowledgements
Of ruined selves
Where someplace we lost
The spare threads
To stitch everything back together
And could never touch another
As we once touched the other,
Letting go dreams
Sprinkled with desires
That only served to choke
The future we swallowed
In gulped decades
While watching dreams
Drift and float like the blown off
Heads of dandelions
Until settling into the
Drudgery of what must be done
In the day to day—
No answers exist when
The only answer is
There be no magic here,
No fairytales, no giants,
No forever’s or an eternity
Yet there be no lies,
No castles built on air,
No innocent beings with wings to rip away
In devilish delight,
No trust found broken
In garbage cans.
And so it goes.
And so it goes,
In essence,
Neither was what
The other really wanted
Resentments the wooden
Puzzle pieces of a child’s game
Tumbled down over us
In crushing weight
Until only the dust
Of us was left
To be swept away.
Its flow
From the tip of my fountain pen—
Not smooth enough–
Fails capturing anything
Within this labyrinth of senses
Now alive
My house is a quiet house,
Always various shades of silent—
Though Etta blows silky smoke throughout the rooms,
Though Nina tells me that I know how she feels,
Though Storm Large with Pink Martini might ask me to come sway with her,
And, at times, Freddy proclaims we are, indeed, champions,
While the evening news drones mundane atrocities of the world each day
And the dogs may bark, trying scare the workers across the street away—
My house is silent through it all, echoing noise in its quiet way,
An orderly, meandering contented existence does it hold.
Have I seen Heaven in her eyes? You ask.
Can anyone see heaven in the eyes of another
Is what I must ask.
I have seen love, the soft one,
Take a seat and
Settle comfortably
In the eyes of others.
I have seen hatred, the snake,
Uncoil and dance,
Spitting venom at everything and everyone,
From the eyes of others.
Too often, I have seen death, the thief,
Steal all the treasures from the eyes
Of those I loved,
Leaving them hollow and emptied out.
I have seen other things
In the eyes of others
Along these long years
But heaven—
I don’t really think so.
I may be too old to see such a wonder
Or too young yet to know it
When I see it.
So, to answer,
I would have to say, no.
No, I have not seen
Heaven in her eyes.
undone in spectacle
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