attic memories (poem)

0

maybe it wasn’t really meant to be

as it was wont to be tho’ now and again i

remember once it happened i can barely recollect

reality has a way of fading away

into the past into the dreams like photographs

anyone can see how happy it was perhaps was it a dream too

gathering in the cobwebby corners of attic memories

enveloped in clouds of dust

insipid memoirs of forgotten pasts

somehow surface from bottomless cavernous chests

(never before disturbed)

opening pandora’s mysteries escaping

tiny creatures flitting fleet shadows

echoing echoes of murmurs from murky prints

aspirations caught in time frozen

silenced by the settling dust spiders spinning webs around

you stepping stealthily trying not to stir the memories.

 

© Cindy Lapeña, 2012

 

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insomnia (poem)

0

sleep

quiet sleep

but restless

not quite

so quiet sleep

toss

turn

mumble

stare

not empty eyes

troubled eyes

terror sleep

reach

higher yet

farther yet

what star where

impossibly high

shot out of the sky

winking earthbound

to sleep

 

© Cindy Lapeña, 2012

 

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speeding down the narrow (poem)

0

you race along the narrow way

over cracks and stones and ruts

unmindful of the cracks and stones and

ruts beneath that race along the narrow way

can you see coming

along trailer speeding

racing too

 

© Cindy Lapeña, 2012

 

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april showers bring summer (poem)

0

the crows call on the day

and night turns into

daylight

streaming through windows

chirping

twittering in leaves that

drop in golden showers

april showers strew the ground

golden ground in piles

that brown at night

 

© Cindy Lapeña, 2012

 

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…and papa was there (poem)

0

it was a dark and stormy night

and papa was there

to put me to sleep

i had always wanted to be a girl scout

and everyone’s mommy and daddy

was at the induction

to pin the tiny girl scout pin

and tie the white kerchiefs on

i thought no one would come

and just when they called my name

papa was there

mama brought me to my grade school graduation

but didn’t stay

and somewhere in the middle of it all

as i strained to see the tiny faces in the crowd

papa was there

with his camera and his big almost-smile

and when my tummy hurt

really bad in school and

i had to get an appendectomy

before the anaesthetic got to work

papa was there holding my hand

and his eyes and shining eyeglasses

were the last thing i saw

floating next to the iv bottle

and when i walked down the aisle

papa was there holding me

like a little girl again

and smiling and crying

as i was

and when bianca came into the world

i thought i saw papa at the window

in a green surgical smock and cap

and when i woke up

there was a bag of sweets and cakes

and papa

and when i die

wherever i go i’m quite sure

the first thing i see will be papa.

 

© Cindy Lapeña, 2012

 

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thunder and lightning and papa (poem)

0

i was as proud as a little girl could be

at six

with my very own room

and my very own bed

and my very own closets

and a door i could close

to be alone

until the big storm

when thunder roared

and the lightning

turned the shadow of

our neighbor’s caimito tree

into grotesque arms

swaying and reaching

in the blue-white glow

of the stormy night

and the wind

lashed at the windows

and left an open one

banging

and banging

and banging

i lay awake

crouched under my blankets

trying to shut my eyes

not to see

the monster arms

reaching for me

but they did

and i forgot

how nice it was

to have my very own room

and my very own bed

and my very own closets

and a door i could close

and i screamed

until papa came

and papa stilled

the thunder and lightning

so i could sleep.

 

© Cindy Lapeña, 2012

 

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scented talc (poem)

2

i love

the scented talc

my mother kept forever

in the round can

with orange

swirls of flowers

and a soft fluffy

powder puff

and the yellowing

waxy paper

covering

the yellowish

scented talc

kept for special occasions

she never used

 

© Cindy Lapeña, 2012

 

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scented soap (poem)

0

sifting through my mother’s things

i remember best

the black and white terriers

sitting by an empty pool

that cradled

a bar of scented soap

that broke into waxy chips

each time

i picked it up

to smell what scent

it used to be

 

© Cindy Lapeña, 2012

 

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mars (poem)

0

welcome to the red hot planet

where the lights dance with wild abandon

like the girls on the ledge

and writhing figures on the floor

step to the wild beat of drums

like a primitive ritual dance

where dancers in costumes gyrate

passionately

or listlessly (or lifelessly?)

under multicolored flashes

sometimes white

are they paying homage to the screen

where more figures writhe

silently screaming at them?

welcome to the red hot planet

where pale faces

accented by garish paint

more garish in the dancing lights

scream at each other

yet can’t be heard over the wailing

and the drum beats

and the priestesses in black

(against white flesh

made paler by the lights)

offer themselves to the screen goddess

while satyrs dressed like men

try to catch them

is this the new world

the space age

where men go when earth dies?

i’d rather stay on earth.

 

© Cindy Lapeña, 2012

 

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moscow (poem)

0

i always thought that tanks

were heavy artillery

meant to fight other tanks

or planes

or other armored vehicles

not people

i guess it’s true

that they’re not meant for people

because it seems

people can stop them

after all.

 

© Cindy Lapeña, 2012

 

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