~Marcie's Mouse~

Gazing at potteries,
marred earthen clays,
polished glasses and crystal
cobwebs find their way.

A mouse sinters by,
we see him.

We sit. Elbows resting hard,
on the wood tiled table.
An off balanced leg resides
atop a neatly folded menu~

placed by Marci.
A repair is needed.

The dancing sun
in vibrant revelry
shoots orange translucent beams;
that pierce glass windows.

Flickers of light arrive,
we bounce their reflections
over the tiles-
a forth and back off buttery knives.

But...menus grow weary,
as this table shakes.

We imagined light sabers
where pain is not allowed.
The sun fades, an overstated
curtain call to a starlit darkness.

We didn't believe in mousetraps.
Mice chided the fact.

(Copyright Donna L. Quesinberry-2006)

~Satisfaction's Lament~

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We’ve masticated these bones
To the point they resemble #2 pencils
Warped like the souls who wield them
Flesh in supposition has lost its flair
Providing no new amplifications

Saffron tea leaves shaken in broken cups
Used to carry the images of future lore
They just settle now as unscathed queries
Spirits hear the discontentment
Providing no new redress to poignancy

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(Copyright © Donna L. Quesinberry)

~the passion is rising taking its own path~

films on house wares bother her
at the kitchen table
her eggs and bacon are reminiscent of still life

there's a cobweb in the corner
she notices it when she takes her seat
a mental note is planted
the ladder and dust mop are too distant now

the china tea cup houses saffron lemon
with cracks and fissures she loves
it provides a history
all good moments deserve lasting images

thoughts shift to the gardener
with chiseled flesh he resembles
an early dutch painting
she thinks of their last conversation

he was holding a rhododendron
commenting on its heartiness
lines on his eyes gave his age away
they should talk again she thinks

her weight shifts in her chair

(copyright © donna l. quesinberry-2005)