fateful night…

by   Toni L. A. Cross
       Charles W. Martin

so smooth, so white
so still and pale
a survivor’s will
yet hauntingly frail
 
recalling now
that fateful night
doors forced open
brought a dreadful sight
 
cool dark breeze
swept right in
accompanied by
that desert djinn
 
no words were spoken
just a devilish grin
was on the face
of this evil djinn
 
innocent eyes caught
in his decaying gaze
hell was fully wrought
in that dreadful blaze
 
from man to beast
so went this ghoulish flame
twas my soul he sought
in his deadly game
 
I saw my path
just one way out
I risked his wrath
fought through my doubt
 
fell to my knees
and began to pray
an angel lord
please send my way
 
only in my dreams
could it be
I am saved by a child
a guileless babe of three

 

Toni L. A. Cross and I have entered into a duel poetry challenge and this is the resulting poem.  Duel Poetry:  a prearranged poetry writing challenge  between two people to evolve a new poem where each writer must respond to the other writer’s lines  (4 -5 ) until both parties agree that the poem is complete.

from my window…

from my window
i see a world
you do not see
i see madmen
in the street
selling candy-coated nightmares
on corporate auction blocks
for the mere price of your soul
and hear the sounds
streaming from city streets
that go unheard
when children cry
in the night
with parental fright
praying for morning’s light
to embrace the sight
of an unlocked door
into a world most fear
you did not hear
the shallow breaths of fear
throughout the night
reverberating
like waves of tears
an unwanted
endowment
nor did you feel
the touch of love
that a poet knows
sometimes in dreams
sometimes savored
on passion’s bed
in a candle lit room
a love
you
have always
sought
and
have not
found

 

My friend Toni Cross has presented another challenge photograph for me, but his one is very special since it is a photograph of her…how does one poet begin to capture even a fragment of another poet’s spirit within the lines of a poem?  Not sure that I have an answer…but here is my attempt to convey a some small portion of the spirit that I have seen in her writing.  I hope that she will approve of what I have attempted.

cruising…

lord knows that child
ain’t got the sense
she was born with
look at her
swishing this way
and that way
like her hips are gonna
bring the tips
like oscar‘s waitress
‘cept her’s
are bringing nothing but whiplash
to that poor old man over there
and that young man ain’t leaving his perch
at least not until things calm down
i’m telling you that skirt
looks more like a shirt
and those earrings
got nothing but walmart bling
i’ve lived here all my life
and can’t recall such a sight
and gramma
have you every seen such a sight
      no child…
      not since you were young