Alexandra's Poetry Sampler
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NIPOETS

The Last of the Wild Oats

The jar was full so many years ago,
But thinking it more wise to be discrete
I only flung a handful sparingly
Upon a pair of eyes that shone with love,

A smiling mouth that curved like angel's wings
As laughter rang like music from his throat.
When once I flung the oats too carelessly
The wind returned the gains with such force

My eyes were blinded by the gust until
My tears exposed the folly of my deed.
Then wisely did I watch the coursing winds
Before I sowed my wild misguided seeds.

The jar now had so little left to hoard
I thought it best to close the battered lid,
But when I thought Why harbor such a few?
I turned and threw the last into the wind.

With some regret but knowing that at last
I'd freed myself from love's uncertainty,
I cleansed my mind of all entanglements
And chose to walk the path of chastity.

Then suddenly those seedlings I had scorned
And tossed away with grim decisiveness
Returned with such a force my body reeled,
For love appeared and filled my hollow heart.

Don't think of love as only for the young:
It comes to anyone who has no fear
Of throwing to the wind those last few seeds
That in that jar lay dormant through the years.


My Father Wore Trojans

When I was a child I remember one day
Snooping through my parents' bureau drawers.
I had no business there but curiosity was one
Of my weaknesses. While rummaging through
One drawer I discovered a little red tin box
With the head of a man wearing a strange helmet.

I held it in my hand and worked laboriously
To pry open the lid. Inside were these small
Wide-necked balloons. Wow! Were they
To be a gift to us girls or just hidden away
To be blown up for the 4th of July? I tried
To blow one up but the air kept leaking out.

My curiosity sated, I placed it back in the box,
Closed the lid, shut the drawer, and forgot
The incident -- that is, until one day,
While trying to grope for something that had fallen
Under their bed, I had to crawl on my back
To reach whatever it was that had rolled there.

And then I saw them! Those little wide-necked
Balloons. They were there stuffed between
The mattress and the springs. Dozens of them,
All dried up, brittle to the touch and looking
Very depleted. Why would my parents blow
Them up and stuff them under the mattress?

As I grew older and learned the purpose
Of those little balloons that I could not blow up,
One memory kept flooding my mind:
The memory of their bed so often crashing
To the floor. No wonder there were so many balloons
Stuffed between the mattress and the bed springs.


Fossils

When dinotherium creatures disappeared
Their bones lay in the earth a million years
And formed that gaseous substance so endeared
By gas-consuming engines and their gears.
When once the wheel was introduced to man,
The mode of travel turned from feet to horse
And then from horse to engines there began
The race that had no halting in its course.
One thinks of all the mammoths that have died
To feed our guzzling gas tanks to the brim.
If in this undue digging we abide,
The future of the engine does seem grim.

          With SUVs and the soaring price of gas,
          I think it's wise to view the horse's ass!


True Love

In olden days some lovers did insist
Their maiden wear the belt of chastity.
They feared their true love helpless to resist
Some other knight who spoke more wittily.
If true love is the morale of this tale,
Why did a warring knight sustain such doubt?
His journey was to find the holy grail
Not of his jealous character to flout.
Poor maids who thus so senselessly endured
This iron gadget locked around their waist;
What mortal sin could ever be incurred
When in such ridicule they were encased?

          Dear maids, no need to agitate herewith
          Just find a good dependable locksmith!


Eye of the Beholder

Your beauty fills my eyes to overflowing;
I know not why, you are no fair Adonis
Who with his hypertrophic manly beauty
Compelled Persephone and Aphrodite
To wage a war for absolute possession;

Nor is your beauty one that fervent poets
Immortalize. Yours is that baffling beauty
That coats you with an iridescent aura,
A glow reflecting what your soul embodies,
A flame that cannot be annihilated.

You are that perfect form that fills my vision,
Eradicating all inconsequential
Perceptions flitting past my blinded eyesight,
And in the camera of my eye lies frozen
The radiation of your inner beauty.
Fusion

Come, lie beside me; whisper fantasies
that only lovers dare to speak about;
let us weave our souls into a plait
of searing, supple flesh, so tightly wound
that it can be unravelled only by
the calming, soothing balm of depletion.

Come, soar with me to unimagined heights
where soul and body levitate
above their earthly chains, hovering
within the realm of ecstasies known only
by those graced with the sweetest dreams,
the final fusion of the fervid flesh.


Silence

All is silent. Not one wisp of wind to flutter
The leafy skirts of the trees to bare their limbs;

Not one ripple to awaken the somnolent waters
That mirror the banks of the apprehensive pond;

Nowhere a bird lifting its wings to take flight
Into the heavy, oppressive layers of the air.

Even the grass seems like bulging eyes awaiting
To be blinded by the blanket of darkness.

Silence! Nature is holding its breath waiting
To be stifled by the omnipresence of the night.


Drought

The soil has dried into dusty particles
that sift and blow with the wind:
there is no water to compress or solidify it.
The grass has no moisture to suck upon
to fortify it with life. It is overpowered
by the tenacity of the creeping weeds
that exist without condensation.
The wails of the dying grass are stifled.

The tall stately trees are shooting out
their roots searching desperately
for life preserving fluids. There are none.
The leaves are withering from malnutrition,
turning brown and clinging despairingly
to their branches, knowing death is near.
The frantic shrieks of the parched trees
are drowned by the clamor of humanity.

Man is oblivious to the pain of nature.
He is insensible to the silent screams
of the grass that softens his footsteps;
he is unconscious of the moaning
of the desiccated trees that caress him with shade.
Nearby are heard the pleasure-filled screams
of children wallowing in their water-filled pools
that drain the aquifer of precious water.

(Webmaster's Note: "Drought" won 2nd Place in 2007 in the Save Our Earth category of the NSFPS annual contest.)


My Adorable Six

My Ms. Aida is sitting today,
There isn’t much she can do.
When you’ve reached the age of 17 years,
A kitty cat’s movements are few.

My darling Bijou, my calico cat,
Is licking her beautiful hair.
She sits in the shade, her body askew,
As she washes herself with care.

Then Koukla is next, with sunburned nose,
Which she scratches away in despair.
Her body’s allergic to sun and fleas,
And each springtime she loses her hair.

O, dear little Cheetah, where are you now?
You’re always out of sight.
You have such a fear of other cats,
But you are my heart’s delight.

And there is Mavraki in the den;
Her presence is much in doubt.
Her hair is so black that all you can see
Is the green of her eyes staring out.

And as to Greezaki, my only male,
It’s a wonder he’s still alive.
Someday he’ll eat himself to death,
And then I’ll have only five!

(Webmaster's Note: "My Adorable Six" won 2nd Place in 2006 in the Cats category of the NSFPS annual contest.)


Anger's Whetting Stone

No human face, but molten flesh
that melted into devilish form
with each vile utterance!

Bulbous eyes that seared into my own
and from their depths unleashed the furies
of a thousand dormant hates.

Surly lips, curled back in wolf-like snarl,
could not restrain the spittle from his mouth
that dribbled like hot coals down his chin;

Hands stiffened into clenched fists,
Upraised and hungry for the satiable feel
of dented flesh and smashing bone.

I felt the anger well up within my throat
like bile; a bitter vetch that chocked my voice
and made me puke my words out in that face.

And then it came! The smashing fist!
My gasp for breath exploding with surprise
from shock and fear and hate.


Flammables

"You're not very smart, are you?"
I looked at her and shame, humiliation
and fury welled up inside me.
          My lips were formed to flare,
          but I blew out the fire.

I told her calmly her attitude
was shameful. She yelled at me
"Mind your own God damn business!"
          I left her house and slammed the door
          on the smoldering spark.

He said to me "Never offer your hand
to a strange man!" I looked at him
as if he had emerged from the Dark Ages
          and turned my back,
          too shocked to ignite the torch.

Then he screamed at me:
"Putana, in my house you do as I say!"
I shrieked, "You son-of-a-bitch,
never talk to me like that!"
          and the flame burst through my head
          like a roaring rocket!