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2012 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 4

Categories: 2012 November PAD Chapbook Challenge, Poetry Prompts, Poets, Robert Lee Brewer's Poetic Asides Blog, What's New.

Today’s prompt comes straight from Marie Elena Good.

Marie’s prompt is: Take the phrase “Just Beneath (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then write the poem.  Possible titles include “Just Beneath My Feet,” “Just Beneath This City,” or “Just Beneath the Surface.”

Here is Robert’s attempt at a Just Beneath poem:

“Just Beneath This Line”

Is another line
and another.
Perhaps, a metaphor
will simile its way in
like a deer
wandering out of a forest
nearly axed
out of existence.
Like the time I stood
just beneath your window
and shouted, “Juliet,
oh boy, Juliet,”
until your father
chased me off your lawn
and woke half the neighborhood.
Each line
leads naturally to the next
even if I don’t have a destination
and maybe sometimes
it’s better that way
knowing you’re only here
to be along for the ride.

*****

Thank you to Marie for the great prompt. Click here to learn more about Marie Elena Good.

*****

Follow me on Twitter @robertleebrewer

*****

 

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About Robert Lee Brewer

Senior Content Editor, Writer's Digest Community.

339 Responses to 2012 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 4

  1. Juanita Lewison-Snyder says:

    beneath this face
    by juanita lewison-snyder

    just beneath this face
    is a tired old latina
    ready for the bone yard.
    she likes rock & rye
    at midnight, 54 proof
    and the strings of
    gypsy kings to
    help induce sleep.
    other nights
    she lights candles
    and dons a night owl tapestry
    about her cold shoulders,
    her beak hooked full
    of muse droppings
    which rain like confetti
    across her keyboard.

    © 2012 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

  2. ivywriter says:

    Just Beneath My Skin

    just beneath my skin

    what you can’t see

    is my heart

    blood pumping through my veins

    giving me life

    my bones

    holding up my frame

    guiding me through

    the hustle and bustle

    of busy schedules

    what you don’t see

    is the intellect

    underneath my skin tone

    beyond my hue

    the dark skin

    that doesn’t allow you to

    see the human

    the woman

    the citizen

    who wants

    the opportunities from life

    that historians have defined as

    life, liberty, and happiness

    but because

    scienc doesn’t allow you

    to see underneath my skin

    you only see what’s at sea level

    somehow society that allows you to

    assign derogatory names

    to people you don’t know

    for whom you’ve willingly overturned

    years of civil rights

    violated biblical courtesies

    so that in the name of God

    you have been allowed to treat me

    like the slave

    that in your mind

    was never allowed to be free

    and in your mind

    Lincoln never signed that declaration

    giving me

    the same assignment as you

    to call America home

    yet, underneath my skin

    you will never know

    what it feels like

    to be treated

    as second class

    not even the mail

    gets demoted like this

    c) Kellea Tibbs and march thirty one, 2012. All Rights Reserved. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of original march thirty one material without express and written permission from the author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

  3. cstewart says:

    On the Border

    Just beneath my heart, is a place for you.
    I had to remove you from my heart,
    But I could only place you so far away,
    So you landed right beneath the curve.

    They say if you do not feel your heart,
    You can not feel or receive love.

    Just beneath my heart, is a place for you.
    Where you stay in perpetual anonymity,
    Without outside notice, with inside stamina,
    Counting butterflies and whistling a tune.

  4. thinkinabouthim says:

    This is my first time posting and doing the Poem-A-Day !! I really liked this prompt:

    Just Beneath your Love

    There is no other love

    that compares

    to that of a parent’s love.

    Your love has saved my life.

    The fact that you

    have never forgotten me

    or judged me.

    You love me unconditional.

    No matter what i say,

    do,

    your love is always there.

    Sometimes,

    I think your love is overbearing.

    Calling me constantly.

    I just didn’t understand,

    you have the love of a parent.

    • Marie Elena says:

      Hi “Thinkin,” and welcome! Love your piece, and I am so flattered that my prompt inspired you to write and post. How humbling! Thanks so much for letting me know that. I hope to hear more from you out here. :)

  5. foodpoet says:

    Just beneath

    Just beneath the water
    Find glimmer of earth in
    Floating kelp
    Gather threads to weave thirst away

    Just beneath embers
    Find a breath of wind
    To flame love free to
    Soar.

    Each element
    Must balance as you
    Search beneath.

  6. Glory says:

    Beneath My Feet
    (Day 4)

    Just beneath my feet they sit
    lifeless in the autumn air
    until I kick, red, gold, russet and
    burnt brown leaves and watch
    their dance as they fly and twirl
    and come to rest in velvet heaps
    upon the frozen ground.

  7. Richard Fenwick says:

    Just Beneath Siddhartha’s Moon

    Across fifteen hundred miles,
    she calls to say the moon is full
    and hangs like a medal
    on a veteran’s black coat.

    In my sky, I peeks across
    the hunchbacked mountains, yellow
    like a lamplight sailing softly,
    and all I sense is a smile.

    Siddhartha said you cannot hide
    the moon and sun, and even
    the truth. As we watch the ball
    cross the only sky we have,

    I love that my shadow crosses
    the white Bank’s Rose, wondering
    if that’s yours on the wisteria.

  8. Transitioning from vacation, catching up…Great poems, love the prompt, Marie!

    Day 4
    Prompt: “Just Beneath” title and poem
    Just Beneath the Golden Gingko

    lies a blanket of sunny leaves
    glowing even when clouds pass over the sun

    tree still cloaked in gold
    yet shed enough to lay a mantle

    so the green grass contrasts
    with the buttery quilt

    and I wonder what lies beneath me
    that I’ve sloughed off over years

    of releasing habits, sins, and clutter
    and whether my shed skin makes me gingko lovely.

    • Marie Elena says:

      Hi Karen! Loving seeing you back again! Great piece here. I especially like “the green grass contrasts with the buttery quilt” and releasing habits, sins, and clutter and whether my shed skin makes me gingko lovely.” WONDERFUL!

  9. JRSimmang says:

    Just Beneath a Whisper

    say anything you wish
    just beneath a whisper.
    this way, you may never
    leave without
    your breath touching mine.

  10. Poet Ariel says:

    Rumors

    Yes, I suppose it could be any number of strange
    Men I haven’t spread my legs to.
    Or perhaps even the dog.

    One day perhaps we’ll know.
    Certainly your nakedness could not have caused this,
    Not you laying just beneath me every night.

    I heard your whispers to our friends,
    The conjectures, the conspiracy theories thrown
    In the drawers like unused condoms in the bedframe

    Since you are without responsibility, this
    Must be rationalized, the truth synthesized
    For public consumption.

    Yes, I suppose it could be any number of strange
    Men I haven’t spread my legs to.
    One day perhaps they’ll know.

    Ariel

  11. po says:

    Just Beneath Detroit

    is a salt mine that flashes
    an incessant reverie
    off its scared walls.

    Braided beneath a city
    it yields nothing but
    branch after branch of empty

    space. It swings through
    the night, without the grace
    or morning light, awash

    in memories and lonely
    graves of paperwork
    and rock.

  12. julie e. says:

    One more for yesterday’s prompt. i so thoroughly enjoyed it, Marie Elena!

    JUST BENEATH THE SURFACE

    Just beneath this wrinkling skin
    is the girl walking barefoot
    in the backyard
    Just beneath these tired legs
    is the girl who hiked miles
    in Rocky Mountains
    Just beneath these aching arms
    is the girl who held
    her babies close
    Just beneath these aging eyes
    is the girl in need of a mama
    who’s learning to be one
    for herself.

  13. sonja j says:

    Just Beneath the Bridge

    Is a Troll. It’s the same Troll it always was, with
    chicken-of-the-woods face, ears like green-necked
    rutabagas and morning breath from getting by
    on lumpers with late blight. It still has to hide
    from sunlight, hunt when it won’t be seen.
    It used to do all right, but that was when
    there were plenty of goats in Gotham.
    Now the goats are gone, so are the wagons,
    and children don’t wander by in the night.

    But the bridge. The bridge is not the same at all.
    The whole time they were putting New Bridge up,
    Troll had to hide in the culvert. New Bridge is big,
    concrete, good for sleeping under during the day,
    but Troll is getting so hungry. Nothing trip-traps over
    great, grey New Bridge – now giant steel dragons with
    white eyes roar across. Troll is so hungry, sometimes
    it tries to snatch a smallish dragon, then quivers under
    New Bridge, whimpering, and sucking on its mashed paws.

  14. The Wired Journal says:

    Just Beneath the expanse above

    Just below the expanse above
    My flesh So Weak my spirit so meek
    Just below the stars above
    On bended knee I bow to thee
    Paying homage to the Christ my king

    Just below my faith so weak
    I trod the path below my feet
    I stumble and fall
    Cry out and call
    Thank you my lord for setting me free

  15. ina says:

    Okay, I accidentally posted this as a reply to Daniel’s poem. It was supposed to be down here (sigh). Not sure if I should blame the repeated “you’re commenting too quickly” or just my own sleep deprived brain.

    Just Beneath You

    That’s my skin
    clamped to your skin.
    That’s my breath,
    mingling with your breath.
    When you kiss me, those
    are my eyelashes making a web of
    love with yours.
    I am here, right beneath you.
    I can see the bright blue of your eyes
    as they look right through me to
    an imagined someone better.

  16. Marjory MT says:

    Just beneath the garden soil
    I planted the prompt
    That should have been planted here.
    :(

    —Just beneath the haze
    —I reach out to remember
    —what life use to be.

  17. seingraham says:

    Just Beneath the Truth

    a lie I might manoeuvre
    into place; a twining

    looped loose as a noose
    under a moon split

    into halves, not unlike Gaia
    wearing her invisible belt

    purporting to bisection
    hers a prevarication

    whistling huge, swallows
    shrieking dark

    edges, spilling chips rough
    as field gems

    complex Machiavellian
    clouds

    I may use
    for my own designs

  18. melly1551 says:

    Just Beneath the Green Tarp Roof

    The light pours in
    a milky emerald stream
    made magical by the plastic sun
    I can barely see.
    Sawdust gathers around my feet
    while I follow him down the sale aisles,
    past marked-down screws, lumber stacked, 2x4s and
    bubble gum machines.

    It doesn’t last long.
    Never does.
    Not sure how much longer I have,
    but I’ll keep following him down the aisles,
    past the small talk and silence and stale jokes,
    until one of us finally stops
    to admire the light
    and breathe in the sawdust.

  19. aviseuss says:

    “Just Beneath the Bell Curve”

    Always reaching, not quite breaching
    Above—the brightest goes
    Esteem undressing, not impressing
    Supercilious foes

    Wits bereave and underachieve
    Lest these thoughts give treason
    Assay tough books or rely on looks
    Should one forgo reason

    Quash dominions, quell opinions
    Below—the weak observe
    High arcs to court, thus coming up short
    Just beneath the bell curve

  20. Natalija says:

    Just Beneath the Pile

    Just beneath the pile
    of cases from awhile
    hid a new clue
    of the scarf that was blue

    Fibers were collected
    and matched with precision
    how would they proceed
    who’d influence their decision

    Suspects were gathered
    and questioned in stride
    all the while wondering
    how she’d really died

    Another affair
    a date gone wrong
    they’d soon find out
    it wouldn’t be long.

  21. Just Beneath the Bottom

    Just beneath the bottom,
    where the imagination
    daren’t go,

    past where
    the Devil is the landlord
    and his giant spiders
    rule the terrain,

    past the green slime
    that clings to
    the pond stones;

    lower than
    the evil, sinful motivations
    of all this world,

    lower than the
    avarice and bloodshed,
    the endless cries
    of a million defiled corpses
    and their besmirched resting places,

    underneath it all
    the machinery of God,
    keeps pumping out
    a market for
    grace,
    good works and faithfulness,

    which keeps
    the wheel in play,
    the planet in rotation,
    the heart aspiring,
    and the dream alive,
    even while in

    free
    fall.

  22. Miss R. says:

    Just Beneath Your Smile

    Just beneath your smile, I know,
    Lies a different expression
    Than the one you always wear.
    Just beneath your happy face
    Lies some deep embarrassment
    You’d rather die than share.
    Just beneath that friendly mien
    Lies suffering unknown to me,
    But a painful parasite to you.
    Just beneath the plastic mask
    Lies a heart that’s real, and throbs,
    And longs to feel what’s really true.
    Just beneath that strong facade
    Lies a dream so delicate
    A breeze could blow it all to pieces.
    Just beneath all your defenses
    Lies the child who cries at night
    When the world it’s known ceases.
    Just beneath that hardened shell
    Lies someone wanting to be known
    Just for the sake of who they are.
    Just beneath your smile, you know,
    Is someone I would like to know,
    If you would let me in that far.

  23. Mike says:

    Just Beneath My Grief

    Just beneath my grief
    is the impression
    that you’re still here.
    Your smile filling me
    with warm light.
    I hear your laugh,
    feel your loving touch
    until I surface
    and realize this
    was only a dream.

    —- —- —-

    just beneath
    the surface
    of the lake,
    fat bass
    ignores
    my invitation

  24. rustydude says:

    Just Beneath This Night

    Morning broke
    Life awoke
    Prayers raised
    Worries dismayed
    Journeys mounted
    Blessings counted
    Numbers surrendered
    Love remembered
    All – just beneath – this night

  25. shellaysm says:

    “Just Beneath the Surface”

    Lying just beneath the surface
    yet unspoken words speak freely
    at once solemn and frivolous
    in the absence of consequence

    Emotion is pure, unrefined
    lying just beneath the surface
    still untouched by expectation
    cloudless and serene as Heaven

    Deep unbridled aspirations
    are granted license to explore
    lying just beneath the surface
    a traveller on safari

    We’re all common seekers of truth
    wanting to belong, have purpose
    yet so often leave our own truths
    lying just beneath the surface

  26. Miss R. says:

    Just Beneath the Radar

    Eyes cast down,
    Then flitting up,
    Hoping for and
    Dreading notice,
    She slinks down
    The crowded hall,
    Holding her breath
    And looking away
    As he approaches.
    She breathes again,
    Relieved and so
    Very disappointed
    That she escaped,
    As always, slipping
    Just beneath his
    Friendly radar.

  27. Yolee says:

    Just Beneath the Rice Pot

    is a brown paper bag and two rooster
    printed potholders. Papi’s kidneys are
    declining, his heart kicks him in

    the chest. Mami’s love language
    consists mostly of perishable expressions.
    Papi gets a transfusion; the family eats

    from Styrofoam plates in his hospital room.
    It is how we dig in to love’s underpinning,
    how we factor in as delicate details to our

    matriarch’s heart, hot as a wood-burning
    stove in the middle of winter. The season
    snatched blankets off while we dreamed

    of healing. We woke up and felt a chill.
    But for now, we knock back pigeon peas
    in golden rice and pollo guisado, watch

    blood flow into Papi’s arm. Mami blurts out
    that she forgot the pot of kidney beans.
    My sister asks did she remember the napkins.

  28. Nancy Posey says:

    Just Beneath the Lions

    While roses, lions, diamonds, and kings
    perched atop the Elizabethan chain of being,
    far above the goldenrod and ragweed,
    slugs and cockroaches, gravel and dust,
    peasants and serfs, no one noticed
    lurking just beneath the lions, cheetahs,
    content with daisies and rhinestones,
    fraternizing with sidekicks, vice-counselors,
    everyman. They never plotted overthrow,
    aware of the danger in high places.

    They never bowed and scraped; instead,
    they averted their eyes, tucked their tails,
    purred softly, as innocent as ticking clocks,
    biding their time until illness, old age,
    assassination provided a vacancy
    best filled by one not only swift of foot,
    but sage with the wisdom of the watcher.

  29. donnajava says:

    Just Beneath The Page

    just beneath the page of words
    are netherworlds of words
    strung as pearls
    held in lips and fingertips
    tease pleasing orbs
    began as common sand
    drifting down in wrong places
    at right times and forever and ever
    rest undetected, unnoticed
    then finally
    ascend to air amid like-orbed souls
    as numerous as Abraham’s descendants
    packing eternal promises
    and finally
    settle somewhere on the page
    a page of pearls fresh from Sheol
    just beneath

  30. Marie Elena says:

    Thanks so much again to Robert for the amazing opportunities he provides for us here. And what an amazing group he has drawn in with his challenges! You all ROCK!!

  31. Michael Grove says:

    Just Beneath The Threshold

    Just beneath the threshold
    of the pain that you endure
    is a light that shines so brightly
    from your heart so kind and pure.

    Your eyes remain the window
    to your beautiful sweet soul,
    while just beneath the threshold
    are your dreams that make you whole.

    By Michael Grove

  32. Just beneath her heart

    I am able to feel More
    than she
    is able
    to tell
    even
    God.

    All my poems this PAD are in honor to my mom
    who suffers with Alzheimers, and to the caretakers
    who who show us that all life is valuable and that
    those who have lost memory deserve to still be treated
    with dignity.

    • Marie Elena says:

      Janice, my heart goes out to you and your mom. My own mom had dementia, and her idential twin has been diagnosed with Alzheimers. We feel like Mom is about a year behind her. It’s a terribly sad way to finish out the years remaining here in this life, isn’t it? I appreciate your mention of being treated with dignity. Having this to deal with with my mom and aunt, and having a mentally ill daughter, I cannot stress enough that we need to learn to treat our mentally ill (whatever form it takes) with respect, tenderness, and dignity.

      Your short poem is ever-so powerful. Thank you for this, Janice.

    • julie e. says:

      Powerful. i’ve had several friends whose moms have had Alzheimers, and this speaks so much truth is few words. Thank you for sharing this part of your life with us.

  33. karenmcc says:

    Just Beneath My Smile
    (a Nonet)

    Just beneath my smile lies my pain.
    You may not see it buried there,
    I hide it well. I have learned
    in life it’s better to
    smile even when
    crying would be
    easier;
    so I
    do.

  34. Dan Collins says:

    Where now Trajan?

    Just beneath the pavement
    of any Roman street
    lying centuries deep;
    those who lived long ago
    are now sweet earth’s to keep.

    Just beneath the pavement
    in small Italian towns
    the soldiers marched away
    to conquer foreign lands
    and further Caesar’s sway.

    Just beneath the pavement
    around the city walls
    catacombs once were filled
    with martyrs like sardines,
    so many had been killed.

    Just beneath the pavement
    and farms and fields and lands
    of kingdoms far and wide
    the glory that was Rome
    once conquered, ruled, and died.

  35. JoAnn Jordan says:

    Today’s poem combines this prompt with that of The Sunday Whirl… A bit strange. http://hopefuljo.wordpress.com/2012/11/04/365-creativity-project-day-300/

  36. PSC in CT says:

    Just Beneath a Lie

    Honeyed humor,
    saccharine smile,
    sugared stance,
    artificially
    sweetened deceit
    colors your under-
    handed eyes
    serpent coiling
    just beneath the lies
    forked tongue
    tastes a poisoned truth

  37. Meeaugraphie says:

    JUST BENEATH THE STAIRCASE

    In the coal cupboard
    He said he slept as a child

    In a foreign land

    And I believed his spoken word
    As his dad’s heart radiated a coldness
    That threatened to encapsulate warmth

    To strangle even me

    But bearing witness to one truth
    Sucks reality from the next.

    And years later, laughter bellowing
    My gullibility acknowledged
    Coal cupboard denied

    Truth and logic exposed as
    Non-compatible

    MeeAugraphie
    11/04/12

  38. Rorybore says:

    I’m marveling at all these talented offerings!
    well done everyone.

    I am posting my poems on my blog HERE

  39. DanielAri says:

    Shabbat=Sabbath
    Sukkah=in Jewish tradition, an open hut built during the harvest season where farmers slept out in their fields under the stars. The contemporary holiday of Sukkot is celebrated with the building of these open huts and hanging them with seasonal fruit.
    Kvetch=complain
    Terra=earth
    Tzuris=hub-bub, stress.

    “Just beneath all the important to dos”

    Shabbat comes like a bride, spreads like her veil,
    shields and succors like a fruit-hung sukkah.
    The plaint I was going to kvetch slips and pales.
    I’m whole. I fear nothing. Hallelujah.
    If I get stuck in a rut, I’ll set sail

    within that rut and find the free delta.
    And if my prodigious powers should all cease,
    I’ll sustain on candlelight and terra.
    Here’s the crux: I don’t fear the loss of ease.
    Today, I know a peace that does not fail.

    It’s nothing but a membrane, this unease,
    and the stress webs of the week—they’re paltry.
    I woke up with dissatisfaction fleas,
    but now they’ve cancelled their itchy assault.
    Shabbat makes this saucy world my pizza.

    The tzuris life takes through nobody’s fault
    could be a pillar or a grain of salt.

  40. PKP says:

    Apologies Marie – your prompt has opened a floodgate – but I fear nothing much to quench the thirst :)

    • Marie Elena says:

      No apology needed, Pearl! Can’t think of a better compliment! Good stuff here. Thanks so much for taking the time to pen and post, in the midst of all your NY troubles. Keeping all of you out there in prayer.

  41. PKP says:

    Just Beneath A Starry Sky

    Just beneath a starry sky
    once lied a girl under a guy
    Just beneath a starry sky
    clothes fell in gay abandon

    Just beneath a starry sky
    the girl that lied beneath the guy
    Underneath that starry sky
    Smiled and panted heaven’s sigh
    And became somebody’s mother

  42. PKP says:

    Just Beneath The Starched White Collar

    Just beneath the starched white collar
    the dapper turned cuff
    the gold monogrammed link

    Just beneath the blinding white
    of crisp knife cut creases
    beats the black oozed slime
    of a child defiler without remorse

  43. PKP says:

    Just Beneath The News Story*

    Just beneath the story of decimated
    Hamilton – resident”s tears and
    Property’s dire destruction

    Just beneath the news story of the
    tiny hamlet on the water

    Rides the memory of a summer breeze
    Blowing through my hair as I pedaled
    Fast and gloriously
    Alone
    Miles from home in a
    Town so foreign it could have been another
    Country and I
    An adult yet to be born

  44. PKP says:

    Just Beneath The Silk

    Just beneath the pouty glossed purple lip
    The smoky come hither eyes of burning youth

    Just beneath the silky slip
    The bra fine as cobwebbed filaments

    Just beneath it all
    The pink scar where a breast once swelled

  45. PowerUnit says:

    Just beneath me
    What’s that on the wall?
    Please release me
    I don’t want to fall

    You got me up here
    No you get me down
    My foot won’t go there
    You’re making me frown

    You tell me to drop
    Are you f***ing insane?
    You tell me to drop
    I’m not an airplane

    I hate rock climbing
    I hate it so bad
    This ten foot wall
    Makes me feel sad.

  46. Just Beneath her Surface

    Just beneath her surface
    Discontent simmers,
    The secret sorrow
    That fuels hidden tears
    For her sacrificed dreams,
    All hidden
    By her delusive smile.

  47. “Just Beneath Your …Smile”

    Just beneath your pretentious smile
    lies a devil
    whose voodoo dolls
    stand vigil in
    a hidden chest,

    pins sticking out of them. We live
    through pain invoked,
    waiting for the
    next stab in our
    knee or our eye.

    Patiently, we wait for the Lord
    to change your black
    heart or move you.
    Till then, we dance
    to block the pricks.

  48. claudsy says:

    Such lovely offerings today.

    Just Beneath Wishes and Wants

    Taught to think ahead
    Toward needs of tomorrow,
    We make our petty lists
    Of material wishes and wants.

    Beneath the lists stand one’s
    Haves and can-be-used-insteads,
    Items never seeming good enough
    For tomorrow’s glistening possibility threshold.

    Pantries occupied by common foods,
    Some requiring pots or skillets,
    Such a chore of feeding oneself
    When the corner restaurant will do.

    Last year’s garments clutter
    Closets too small to hold
    Precious societal identities
    In times we’re told are lean.

    Holiday celebration needs for one
    Could care for one family for weeks,
    Should a person stop to consider
    Things just beneath wishes and wants.

  49. Ber says:

    ‘ Just beneath an umbrella ‘

    Under the cover
    of a wet miserable day
    watching the rain
    pile on me as i sway

    Sheltered by the cover
    of increasing breathless smother
    wanting for the gust to slow
    to help me with my walking flow

    Running for cover
    a stranger falls underneath
    ‘sorry can i? may i?’
    ‘Yes of course’

    Out of breath
    a little hoarse
    when really shaking from within
    his smile melting my childish grin

    What can happen
    on a wet dull day
    washing all the problems
    of yesterday

    Scent of a woman
    scent of a man
    under an umbrella
    what a lovely plan

  50. elishevasmom says:

    Just Beneath the Chocolate

    Any kind of cake
    is always
    at its best—
    just beneath the chocolate.

    Cookies, muffins, ice cream—
    never better than
    when they are
    just beneath the chocolate.

    Pancakes with maple syrup?
    Not for me.
    I want mine
    just beneath the chocolate.

    Out of milk for breakfast?
    That’s fine by me.
    I’ll take my cereal
    just beneath the chocolate.

    Want to ask for my hand?
    Let me give you a plan.
    Take the ring and put it
    just beneath the chocolate.

    In a bad mood?
    Give me comfort food.
    I’ll cover my blues
    just beneath the chocolate.

    Candy those yams for
    Thanksgiving dinner.
    I’ll cook them up
    just beneath the chocolate.

    And even if there’s no food handy,
    I can still can my fix.
    That’s why God made fingers
    just beneath the chocolate!

    Ellen Knight

  51. Andy Brackett says:

    Just Beneath The Setting Sun

    Just beneath the setting sun
    Horizon limned in glowing aura
    Orange, red and purple hues
    Defines another days end.

  52. Sara McNulty says:

    Poetics Asides November Challenge – Day 4
    Just beneath __________

    Just Beneath Roots

    Fir tree hugs edge of wetlands,
    obscuring in sumer, the growth
    beneath, where grass tufts grow
    in fertile black earth. In Autumn,
    leaves relocate under the fir.
    Spare in winter, grass is gone,
    leaves scattered, as do
    ashes we sprinkled under
    his favorite tree.

  53. Just Beneath your Eyes

    Just beneath your eyes

    I can see your pain

    and regard your fears

    that quickly ravage like gangrene

    Just beneath your eyes

    are open windows that receive no rain

    where there is no jasmine blossom

    but field of misery and pain

    Just beneath your eyes

    there’s an earnest plea for help

    for the wounded

    in need of healing balm

    if I could only keep you from sorrow

    administer undying calm

    but the best I can do

    is wipe away each tear

    and warm with a kiss

  54. mikeMaher says:

    Just Beneath This Sky,

    those visible masses of liquid droplets,
    are many versions of the same world,
    different political theorems
    of how best to change things
    orated by opposing sides.
    Remember riding your bike home from Plainfield
    in the middle of the night?
    All you could see was winter
    and your fingers sent trembles into the handlebars.
    This world was bigger then,
    longer.
    At some point, we all know
    that moment when the lack of infinity is realized.
    You are running out of time
    to write the irrevocable ode.
    There is still much to do,
    still many times to switch the narrator’s perspective,
    frame of reference.
    The ocean demands to be remembered as beautifully terrible
    and New Jersey is left holding the bag.
    It is strange to watch on television
    as pieces of your childhood
    crumble with the boardwalks
    and are dragged out to sea.

  55. LIKE DUCKS ON THE WATER

    Grace and gentility,
    their mobility exudes all that.
    The plate glass pond reflecting
    the beauty of the mallards
    at leisure. Your pleasure is
    in admiring their calm of
    this early autumn day.
    Just beneath the surface
    the impression transforms.
    Flat webbed feet pushing
    the underwater wetness
    to self propel. All above serene
    in splendor; all below chaotic as hell!

  56. JanetRuth says:

    Just Beneath the Now…

    Just beneath the now
    Awaits the ‘then’
    We ought to handle it carefully
    For it will not pass again

    ***

    Just beneath this present action
    Is a test, don’t you know?
    Because it is in our reaction to action
    That our truest colors show

    ***

    Just beneath frost-bitten flower
    and dull November sod
    rests the slumb’ring seed ofspringtime
    waiting for the kiss of God

  57. Susan Budig says:

    Just Beneath Me

    Henry Thomas Thorson
    Turned up his snooty nose
    Why, that’s just beneath me!
    Surely, you don’t suppose
    I’d give you something free!

    Henry Thomas Thorson
    Cocked a querulous brow
    Then flicked his fingertips
    My man, the things you ask!
    He uttered through pursed lips

    Henry Thomas Thorson
    Harrumphed indignantly
    Do you know who I am
    Pontificated he
    I thought not, stupid man!

    Henry Thomas Thorson
    While sitting on the pot
    Encountered an impasse
    The roller held, but air
    Nar’ a sheet to wipe his…

    (This poem is in Monchielle form, which is Mindful Poetry’s form-of-the-month)

  58. jacq says:

    Just Beneath My Soul

    Lies a blackened casket
    Revolting from its chains
    Light as a cloud shadowing me
    Scratching like a restless dream
    Not burdened by its weight
    For just beneath its lock
    Is my fractured soul

  59. JanetRuth says:

    Great prompt, Marie, and what wonderful poetry it inspired. i wish I could comment separately but each post that posts is a victory:) You guys, one and all ROCK! Here’s to poets!…take 10;(

    • Marie Elena says:

      Janet, I’m absolutely determined to acknowledge each and every incredible poem today. It’s the least I can do for the honor of having my prompt chosen to post this month. I couldn’t be more thrilled with the honor, or the amazing poets gathered here. These computer gremlins sure are taxing though, aren’t they? ;)

  60. posmic says:

    Just Beneath the Acrylic Wall Art

    There’s another wall waiting to begin
    if only we can escape the gravitational pull
    of this owl’s orange eyes, threaded with
    yellow yarn, a big, dark, wooden bead
    in the center of each, like a knuckle
    in a fist. This is not what I came

    here for, to sit on this houndstooth couch
    with you, trying to explain what I mean
    about walls beyond walls, some world
    other than this one where we are
    men and women, machines built for
    coping, not for understanding

    each other, not in any real way, except
    through the flesh. You are wondering
    about my flesh even now; I can feel it in
    your eyes, your male eyes, and we will
    never reach that other world, not
    together, not this way. You have

    your hot toddy, and I have mine; you are
    not my ride home, the shoes under my bed.
    We are nothing but two people sitting under
    an acrylic owl, trying to ignore some things,
    pay attention to others, and—for the next
    ten minutes, twenty—not confuse the two.

  61. Marianv says:

    The Contest

    Just beneath my congratulations
    And the sweet kiss my lips press
    Against your blushing cheek

    Lies my aching heart . I am trying hard
    To be a good sport, and not a “sore loser”
    I want you to know I am really happy for you.

    But those judges must have been in a big
    Rush to get things over with because that
    Is the only reason why your poem was chosen
    For the grand prize instead of mine.

  62. Jane Shlensky says:

    Robert, I enjoyed your poem today.

    Just Beneath the Artist’s Paint

    the celophane body layers down to skeleton.
    First the blank epidermis,
    no freckles, warts, or scars identify this
    white man, palms up, arms slightly lifted
    away from his sides, his naked body
    asking why, who me, awaits the artist’s
    imaginary scalpel to peel the dermis to muscle,
    ligaments and tendons white as tennis socks
    stretched to hold reddish flesh on bones.

    One more lifted layer and lumpy organs
    are exposed, red, orange, purple,
    like continents on a globe, weighty enough
    to warrant cut-out legends of tissue blocks,
    a slice of liver here, a window of lung there,
    a peek inside thbe heart revealing
    empty chambers, a lonely man.

    His interior map proves his every depth
    has a depth of its own, just beneath.
    One by one, the organs lift away
    in systems’ rise and fall—
    respiratory’s flabby billows,
    digestive’s tangle of gut,
    circulatory’s heart, arteries, veins,
    moving pints of what the drawing
    dare not spill here and still be useful
    to the student of anatomy.

    Peel away circulation to nerves
    spidering his body like tattoos,
    his poor bald eyes seeing
    every electric impulse from the brain,
    (see page 274 for full cranial cutaway),
    nervous systems lifting to reveal
    bones, joints, teeth and sockets
    where fleshy parts once dwelled,
    featuring an inset look at marrow,
    blood’s building blocks.

    But what are we to make of this genderless body?
    Perhaps the artist found it indelicate
    lifting away the testicles and penis,
    the breasts or ovaries, complete hysterectomy
    or castration at the lift of a sheath.
    For full reproductive systems, another chapter
    explores both genders, arrows indicating
    the ins and outs of procreation and elimination,
    even imminent birth.

    Having slowly rendered a healthy human skeleton,
    one by one, we put flesh back on bones, rebuilding
    the body back to its blank state of miraculousness,
    almost like puzzling a man from soft mud
    and breathing life and imagination into that busy form.
    But where is the soul?
    Did the artist forget
    the soul just beneath
    the artists’ paint?

  63. Casey says:

    beneath
    my churning lines
    like leaves that rustled by
    the Autumn of my discontent
    soon died

  64. joann555 says:

    Just Beneath My Smile

    The years have passed when my heart burst and yearned for you
    Those days are gone, filled with passionate rendezvous
    The moment has vanished when I could have said, “I do.”

    Don’t look too closely at the reflection of me.
    My eyes are eager to admit the apparent truth.
    The hope of true love was lost the day I let you go

    Afraid to take your hand, unwilling to take a chance
    The scars are real, the feelings unhealed
    Such painful agony, just beneath my smile.

  65. RJ Clarken says:

    Just beneath this calm façade, I
    fear another act of god, I
    hope foreboding is mislaid
    but just in case: ‘Keep Calm’ displayed.

  66. MeenaRose says:

    Just Beneath A Smile
    By: Meena Rose

    A smile is a smile,
    Someone once said.
    I disagree.

    A smile is a sentry
    If you ask me;
    Veiling intent

    Often betrayed by
    Tell tale eyes.
    Exuding warmth or

    Chilling upon sight;
    Tread with care -
    Alluring eyes bind

    Emotions so deep
    Roiling them in a
    Tempest of desire.

    A smile is a smile,
    Someone once said.
    I disagree.

  67. Domino says:

    Just Beneath

    Just beneath the cage, quite near,
    beats a rhythm one can hear,
    where the seat of my affection,
    it is simply my connection.
    So it beats on year by year;
    my heart.

    There it beats, beneath that cage
    which does not protect nor assuage
    the pain or joy, that I may find,
    my rib-cage just is not designed
    to block the pain or joy engage
    in my heart.

    With its easy syncopation
    and a subtle soft vibration
    that accompanies my life,
    my every breath through fun and strife
    toward its eventual cessation,
    my heart.

    Just beneath the surface lies
    emotion’s heart in body’s guise.
    Trust in it when e’er you wonder
    what to do, and when you ponder,
    listen to its soft advice,
    your heart.

    Diana Terrill Clark

  68. Linda Hatton says:

    Just Beneath the Surface

    Just beneath the surface, trains
    rumble in her sleep, oil paints
    skate Austrian Alps, huckleberries
    transform to jam, wiggling
    in tin buckets amid threat of bear
    attack. Just beneath the surface, wooden
    slats squeak beneath blustery corner
    oak tree, carrot tops quiver in cool
    northwestern winds. Just beneath the surface,
    she’s crumbling at calm of Mozart, shivering
    at sight of birch trees, swallowing
    away tears sucking down his favorite
    chocolates. Just beneath the surface,
    she masks lament,
    a child deserted.

  69. at the end

    Just
    beneath
    the sadness
    I can make out
    the shape of a girl
    laughing arms in the air
    like the last stroke of winter
    the world has stumbled to an end
    and she can’t explain this sense of spring
    but today she craves joy more than her pain

  70. KathyA says:

    Just Beneath My Breast

    Just beneath my breast lives an implant.
    A blob designed to convince others I’m still whole – still feminine.

    Just beneath my formerly sensitive skin is scar tissue.
    A span of gristle that causes phantom itches – on the surface and deep down.

    Just beneath my pectoral muscle is a 38-C sac, filled with gel.
    A sac that pushes my skin into a gentle bulge –firmer than before.

    Just beneath my breast lives an envelope, broken open now.
    An envelope whose contents spread like lava – just beneath my breast.

    By Kathy Arellano
    ###

  71. Glory says:

    Beneath My Feet

    Just beneath my feet they sit
    lifeless in the autumn air
    until I kick, red, gold, russet and
    burnt brown leaves and watch
    their dance as they fly and twirl
    and come to rest in velvet heaps
    upon the frozen ground.

  72. Cara Holman says:

    cold moon
    just beneath the crust of snow
    more snow

  73. Karen31 says:

    Just beneath the golden crust

    Just beneath the golden crust:
    a chicken pot pie that I must
    turn away from, my oh me,
    it’s 1600 calorie!

    But, oh that scent – my fork broke in
    released the lovely steamy sin;
    I licked it clean – I could not waste
    that clinging tiny slip of taste.

    It’s not for me! I baked this pie
    for my hardworking special guy!
    I know he loves this crusted stew
    and yet, I know he loves me too -

    I thought this through bite after bite,
    and when my guy gets home tonight
    he’s sure to love his pizza pie a lot -
    and I sure loved that chicken pot!

  74. JUST BENEATH THE BROKEN

    entry, a human figure
    sprawls – long dark tresses starred
    with shattered glass. Red dress,
    silk stockings with a seam; red spike heels
    scattered among beads. My search dog
    walks right by, under a streetlamp
    that should be lit by now, but won’t be,
    this evening after earthquake.
    Avenue blocked by rubble.
    I bend to check the injured lady –
    department-store mannequin, wig askew
    on her bald synthetic head.
    My dog leads me on, under the leaning
    entrance. She’s looking for real
    people. I switch on my flashlight,
    follow her inside to darker
    dark.

  75. JUST BENEATH MY STERNUM

    It drives my life.
    It fuels my muse.
    All its requests
    I won’t refuse.

    Compassion lives
    in its confines.
    and loves takes root;
    a spreading vine.

    Here in my chest
    a heart beats true,
    this engine of life
    that’s here just for you.

  76. julie e. says:

    JUST BENEATH THESE LEAVES

    The poplar tree that grew much faster than
    we expected it to, also incredibly tall and wide
    (though we DID ask the man at the nursery what
    would quickly fill the empty space left when
    our elegant walnut tree went roots up and
    breathed its last crop of nuts for the squirrels
    to steal) and that has lifted the paving stones
    put in place over three summers at the
    expense of my back and tediously laid flat,
    and is now working to put the garden retaining
    wall’s nose out of joint not to mention I trip
    every time I walk outside (over the tilting stones)
    and its large healthy branches are hanging
    over the roof, spitting leaves into the gutters

    but

    just beneath these leaves
    just beneath these branches,
    separated from the constant
    flow of reality I sit on the
    upstairs balcony, and I am
    young, listening to the leaves
    rustle and sigh around
    my treehouse.

  77. julie e. says:

    Oh no we’re bold again!

    JUST BENEATH THIS RUBBLE

    Shoes in a pile
    laundry strewn
    keepsakes and earrings and
    an unpiled pile
    of books by the bed,
    shirts once worn
    coffee cups
    relics of a failed attempt
    to organize
    my scarves
    and
    just beneath this rubble
    is a clean house.

  78. Bruce Niedt says:

    Just Beneath the Clouds

    Just beneath the clouds
    a terrible wall of water,
    winds without mercy,
    horizontal rain.

    Just beneath the clouds,
    streets become rivers,
    trees fall like matchsticks,
    houses crumble and wash away.

    Just beneath the clouds,
    boats clutter the sand flats,
    piers and boardwalks splinter,
    a roller coaster lies in the surf.

    Just beneath the clouds,
    the worst has past, and the worst
    is yet to come – how can we
    ever be the same again?

    Just beneath the clouds,
    we help our neighbors,
    try to be resourceful, resilient,
    watch the sun peeking through.

  79. Sally Jadlow says:

    Just Beneath

    11/4/12

    Just beneath heaven
    lies a world
    filled with lush fields,
    sand, and vast oceans.

    A perfect place
    for those creatures
    He created,
    and people who bear
    His image
    to whom He commanded
    “Be fruitful and multiply.”

  80. pmwanken says:

    JUST BENEATH THE BOARDWALK

    tumultuous waves
    churn the depths of the sea
    just beneath the boardwalk

    swelling tide
    beats the rotten boards,
    weakening their hold

    impending wrath
    of mother nature
    coming on shore

    key indicators
    enable residents and visitors
    to scramble and flee

    holding on
    to upbeat hopes
    of returning to this place of charm

    2012-11-04
    P. Wanken

  81. Michael Grove says:

    Just Beneath This Mountain

    Just beneath this mountain
    there’s a valley dark and cold.
    You’ve been dwelling there so long
    searching streams for flecks of gold.

    Climb up from the valley
    with a first step brave and strong
    and your bright eyes gazing upward
    to the place where you belong.

    Just beneath this mountain
    you can make a brand new start
    as you sense it through your soul
    and you feel it in your heart.

    A new found strength is present
    as you face another day.
    Just beneath this mountain
    you will find a better way.

    By Michael Grove

  82. Ann M says:

    Just beneath the dark night,
    while we hid in basements
    and under cover,
    the storm came
    and the trees in town cracked
    and fell.
    For days we stayed inside,
    flicking the switching,
    waiting for light.
    Today there are yellow leaves
    on the maples still standing
    and the wood cutters have come
    to haul away the wreckage.
    The sky is blue
    the color of the sea
    that tore the boardwalk
    and nearly drowned us all.
    I said to save a piece of oak,
    make a box and
    put it together with dovetails,
    varnish it in gold.
    Go the beach, and sail your boat.

  83. JWLaviguer says:

    Just Beneath the Lies

    Just beneath the lies
    hides the truth
    of who you are

    You smile
    but we see the frown
    and the tears

    Don’t hide
    from the help
    that we offer

    For you are
    more important
    than you know

  84. bluerabbit47 says:

    Just beneath
    the surface
    like a spawning
    fish at the edge
    of a summer
    pond, something
    pushes and
    nudges. Fecund
    and implacable
    as a black hole,
    it takes all
    in. What
    comes next?
    I hold
    my breath.

  85. jlcooper says:

    Just Beneath the Clouds

    Just beneath the clouds
    Rays of sunshine
    Rain down on the village below
    Announcing the storm had passed
    To destinations unknown.

  86. RJ Clarken says:

    (Sorry for the typo – and the one time the ‘you’re posting too quickly’ thingee didn’t happen so I didn’t have an opportunity to fix it.)

    just beneath my lip
    is an epicurean
    dribbled sauce goatee

  87. mapoet says:

    Just Beneath the Surface

    Grief hides in
    the jungle of our emotions
    ready to stage a sneak attack.
    A picture, a song,
    a place, a date
    may trigger an ambush
    no matter how much time
    has passed since
    the day of the loss.
    This opponent will never
    sustain a mortal wound,
    but its target may learn
    how to recover more
    quickly after a strike.

  88. RJ Clarken says:

    jJust beneath my lip
    is an epicurean
    dribbled sauce goatee

  89. just beneath my stomach

    and further down below
    are things that I can’t see
    … like my toes

  90. DAHutchison says:

    It’s Just Beneath My Dignity

    “It’s just beneath my dignity to toil in this way,
    I mow your grass, I shovel snow, I want to go and play,
    There’s poetry I want to write and drawings to be done,
    Assassin’s Creed is what I need, a game that must be won.”

    “As long as you live here, my son, there will be simple chores,
    You’ll put away your dishes, and you’ll wash your filthy drawers,
    I know you think your poetry and games make you the bomb.
    But get a clue, you’re forty-two, and living with your mom.”

    ###

  91. RJ Clarken says:

    We Above

    Just beneath the subway system,
    twilight world, but no one’s missed them:
    rats who dance to rolling thunder.
    We above know not what’s under

    miles and miles of track and refuse.
    Insular, we simply recuse
    tender selves. But it’s no wonder:
    We above know not what’s under

    city, commerce, traffic. Furtive
    creatures whose lives are revertive,
    rats whose lives are torn asunder.
    We above know not what’s under

    sidewalks where our tread is heavy.
    Who could guess there is a bevy
    of those rats in twilight blunder.
    We above know not what’s under…

    ###

  92. Michelle Hed says:

    Just Beneath My Heart

    You reside there
    wrapped within a cocoon
    sweetly lined
    with snapshots of your life
    moving slowly
    page by page as I review
    each thought of you.

  93. jared davidavich says:

    Just Beneath This

    Every decision made
    Rests upon the collective
    Rational choice actor.

    The purpose, determined,
    Lies on the foundations
    Of our consumption.

    The road travelled
    Is paved over desire,
    Not need.

    This is our reality,
    And just beneath This
    Exists the surplus.

  94. just beneath my feet

    earth sinks in
    appears closer
    room gets darker
    vision gets blurry
    it’s not a matter of how
    but when

  95. Just Beneath My Heart

    I think you left a void
    when you walked out
    of here, on me, but
    most of all, on us. For
    some reason, I haven’t
    been able to resurrect
    my soul the way I used
    to be able to do, when
    you played games like
    this before. My heart
    keeps beat beat beating,
    but I don’t know where
    to go from here, not
    anymore, not without
    you all over again.
    Maybe by next time,
    I’ll know better. Don’t
    say you doubt it—I
    don’t care what you
    have to say, anyway.
    It’s not like your words
    ever really concerned
    me. So wherever my soul
    used to be, it feels like
    there’s just this empty
    void, and I blame you.

  96. Just Beneath the Story I Am Writing
    is the story I was living long ago
    It is so obvious that I am worried
    Some friends may recognize it as they go
    So, luckily for me, they’ll never read it.

    And just beneath my real story
    Is a story I invented long before
    To make my everyday more varied
    And have some fun there, as I go
    So, luckily for me, I’ll never write it.

    Just beneath my frozen mask
    My face is hiding it forgotten smiles
    And laughter, wasted on the go
    Amidst the fear it betrays me.
    So, luckily for me, you’ll never see it.
    ***

  97. ely the eel says:

    Just Beneath Our Busy Lives

    wondrous things await,
    lesser ones as well,
    visible to the open eye, the willing heart,
    not hiding at all, if we choose.
    Just beneath that stop for groceries,
    a chance to make someone’s day,
    to thank that clerk, mention their name,
    grateful for their work, letting them know.
    Just beneath that amber light,
    a chance to slow, to pause,
    making it a smile moment,
    letting go the held breath, the tension,
    every moment a choice.
    Just beneath that daily chore,
    a chance to notice large small things,
    that shining plate, sparkling floor,
    the dust-free shelf, your happy child.
    Just beneath that illness,
    a chance to heal, to rest,
    to think about what’s coming,
    in this life and the next,
    a chance to choose to be here now,
    present moment, wonderful moment.

  98. just beneath the earth

    a mere six feet under
    my sister and brother wonder
    how come we don’t visit them enough

  99. tunesmiff says:

    JUST BENEATH THE CLOUDS
    (A Kautata)
    G. Smith
    ———————————————-
    Just beneath the clouds,
    A sage velvet blanket lays
    Loosely thrown across the land.

  100. pmwanken says:

    JUST BENEATH HER CONCEALER
    (a shadorma)

    Evidence
    of tumultuous
    days—and nights—
    is swelling
    just beneath her concealer;
    upbeat charm intact.

  101. Billie says:

    Just beneath the Misletoe

    Just beneath
    the mistletoe
    I see my breathe
    white, and steamy.
    imagine you
    imagine me
    K i S Si n g
    passionately
    Just beneath
    the mistletoe.

  102. Tracy Davidson says:

    Just Beneath The Surface

    Simmers my frustration
    as the dreaded message
    comes again…
    I am not posting
    comments too quickly,
    I am posting
    one comment
    slowly…
    over and over
    again.

  103. Just Beneath Excitement

    and anticipation
    of seeing friends or relatives,
    visiting first-for-you places
    or having new adventures
    lies frustration that air travel is no longer fun

    as you take off your shoes,
    go through long lines,
    sort your cell phone, change and keys,
    carry-ons, wallets or purses
    in plastic bowls and tubs,
    and stand in an electronic archway
    while guards stare
    and wave wands over your body.

    Just beneath joy lies fear
    the world is no longer a safe place,
    an unescorted bag could be a bomb
    and anything could happen
    since the towers disintegrated before our eyes.

  104. IrisD says:

    Wings of Love

    Just beneath your pinions
    Is where I want to abide
    You wrap yourself in light
    As your garment where I hide
    Beneath your banner of love
    Its canopy unfurled wide
    Just beneath your pinions
    Is where I want to abide

  105. Marie Elena says:

    Just Beneath the Skin

    No matter the color
    Texture, size, shape,
    Or cleanliness
    Beats a heart that feels,
    Loves, endures, believes,
    Hopes, yearns, hurts
    Just like our own.
    We need know
    No more.

  106. RobHalpin says:

    Just Beneath The Words

    Just beneath the words
    lies the truth
    of what’s being said.

  107. Leo says:

    just beneath the surface,
    a seed waits for water,
    to find its wings and rise,
    rise toward the warmth
    of the caring, loving sun;
    to bear a fruit, a flower,
    spread its arms and fly,
    in the flirting spring wind;
    to savor the first kiss,
    see the butterfly’s colors,
    feel the drops of rain;
    just beneath the surface,
    a life waits to be live.

  108. Just beneath
    my tired eyes
    sits my stuffy nose.
    My throat is raw and scratchy,
    an ache is in my bones.
    I am awake,
    though some would say,
    perhaps I should not be.
    For rest, they say is all it takes
    to return the me to me.

  109. Just Beneath This Floor
    lives a family of six or more.
    Where they came from I do not know-
    someplace warm – they’re not ready for snow.

    I hear them talking, as I lay in bed
    I have no idea what is said.
    The words are music from a distant land
    where the sun shines hard upon the sand.

    Like a lullaby I once remember,
    something mother sang one brisk September -
    a song of love and beauty known
    all I recognize is “Mi Corizon.”

    Since we have such difficulty posting, I will say now that the poems we have been share are truly wonderful! I have enjoyed reading everyone’s submissions. What an honor to be among such talented folk! Blessings!

  110. laurie kolp says:

    Robert- That is one of my all-time favorites of yours!

  111. >strong>JUST BENEATH THE RADAR

    She talks of her mate, a Good and decent man,
    the love of a life well lived.
    She talks of her Lord, a Good and caring God
    who brings love to her life well lived.
    She speaks of her Zosia; her baby’s baby
    her pride and joy and treasure.
    She speaks of her “partner” like he’s her
    guide and teacher, but who learns as much from her.
    She tells of her Buckeyes (and the proud state with the O’s)
    her home and favored land.
    But she flies under the radar, a stealth heart
    that loves and supports and speaks from that heart.
    A Good and loyal friend.

  112. JUST BENEATH THE SURFACE

    Calm demeanor,
    smooth as glass,
    cool as a cucumber,
    solid as a rock…
    But just beneath the surface
    everything is churning.
    There’s a fire burning
    and you’re yearning to
    explode and let your words be heard.
    So you let things slide,
    and take pride that it hasn’t
    gotten to you yet. Just beneath
    the surface, never let them see you sweat!

  113. Just beneath

    is a fine metaphor
    implying hierarchy and closeness
    in rank
    between things and
    their surfaces.
    For example,
    a nice foam capped beer
    sweating
    its frozen mug -
    my commanding
    good looks,
    your icy stare,
    the palpable surface tension
    becoming
    just too much
    to bear.

  114. barbara_y says:

    Just beneath the reflection of Narcissis

    Just beneath the reflection of Narcissis
    translucent globes cluster: over-ripe white grapes
    contain in their swelling kernels, frogs.
    The skin of light dividing the shore from its depths
    paints a floor of tumultuous storm clouds
    on the ceiling, and fools the eye with crows and swifts
    where a bream flees a largemouth bass, a swallow
    away from death. Nothing is what it seems: the key
    past upbeat dermal charm and into flesh and plasma
    rests in the heart of the sun. Cheat it. Scramble together
    clouds and water, birds and fish, and enable
    Narcissis to escape his fate, or leave him–
    hollow, rotten, beautiful.

  115. Sorry, I just saw that Marie Elena’s words needed to be in the title. So here’s my second attempt and I’m sorry I can’t delete my first and I’m also sorry to have to enter this nightmare of submitting.

    JUST BENEATH YEARS OF WONDERING

    lies this obvious
    little wonder
    of
    truth
    having her first breaths.

  116. THE MOMENT

    Just beneath years of wondering
    lies this obvious
    little wonder
    of
    truth
    having her first breaths.

    • Sorry, I just saw that Marie Elena’s words needed to be in the title. So here’s my second attempt and I’m sorry I can’t delete my first and I’m also sorry to have to enter this nightmare of submitting.

      And now I see, I can’t post any corrections because the website doesn’t allow them. Well, you just strike my title and use my first line as the title, right?

  117. viv says:

    Beneath this line
    Is a flapping flurry
    of washing in a hurry to dry,
    in this November
    bedevilled by showery
    weather.

    My first comment, praising Robert’s poem and thanking Marie for her prompt, disappeared after the 8th futile attempt at posting. I pray that my little poem does not suffer the same fate. If it does, I GIVE UP

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