Spring Kiss

Couldn't he have given me
A softball kiss
Just to warm it up but no
Not knowing it was my
First he went at it full
Without a thought
More March than April.

MY FIRST BICYCLE

Had a removable boy’s bar,
Doubling as a girl’s bike.
Last night, at a Valentine’s
Party, I sat in a kissing
Booth kissing boys the way
I kiss girls when I know
Them well . . . when I was
Little I never considered
Removing the bar so I could
Jump higher, but every so
Often I wonder why I never did.

AARON FAGAN

FIRST LIGHT

my first look
was filtered by curtains –
even then, the sky was rosy!
sunrise over Golden Ears Park –
the mountains white, but pink!

my first thought –
ah, a fine day!
but then remembering:
red sky in morning,
a sailor’s warning

and after all
it’s April first –
nature’s trick?
will it hail
again today?

one thought:
I should take a photo -
first this poem!
and then -
the fog set in . . .


Franci Louann flouann@telus.net April 1, 2008

I liked both poems, first cast, first kiss! Ok this is nature's prank? FL

I didn't see the "first bicycle" poem which comes before mine here. I like it too!

MOVING IN

In the midst of late night thunder storms
And with inadequate light
In shifts, Mom and Dad painted clichés

Her room grew vibrant
Pink
Ribbon Pink
Second grade smiles
Tonic to moods

His room grew dreamy
Blue
Linen Blue
Kindergarten picture books
Heavenly horizons

With their stages set before the movers came
the rest could wait; we waited

What else will they tell the neighbors, their friends?
No, we don't go to church. We haven’t been to Paris, yet, or to Punta Cana . . .

Zero gravity lacrosse? Do you have to take lessons first?

MY LACK OF PUCK (I never seem to be able to make a good April Fools Joke)

Puck punk pranks
Tongue-in-cheek not
Me. My humor
Flows as quietly
As a pebble sinks.

...FL I like yours too--poem stealing your picture! :) This is fun.

http://tspoetryjournal.blogspot.com/

"73" Newport Custom

23 feet from hood to trunk
wide enough for me to stretch out on the back seat.
my grandfather bought it to match a new house
$300 dollars I saved to make her my first car
little did I know the car would be a prize for saving
metallic brown with a badge landau roof
and no shortage of chrome.
I once raced a friend who had a MG
what I gained on the flats he recovered in the hills
it was over when I fishtailed into a driveway
the highway was it home.

Ah, you got me! I'm following a policy of not posting poem drafts up on websites, but for all my grumbling you can take it from me that your handy hints and prompts are paying off. Call it a two-parter about the Book of Genesis and the old Persian meaning of Paradise... Now for the third part...

Oh Clair..first love

the summer of nineteen seventy six
i lay awake; alert as a fox
mesmerised by your red lips
that tasted of Martini
the licks of silky hair.

Oh Clair

like a victim of some experiment
evaluating the ratio
of brain to hips
I had my chips
with the blush of malign intent.

It was a shallow empty love
when you said that I was ‘ full of shit’
i didn’t bother to explain
the sharp schism in my teenage trip
stress spots, cold sweats and ego pain.

Oh Clair
the fluttering, stuttering and angst
of my futile quest;

to get inside your pants.

my first marriage


was on a steep
hill in the third
grade: we were adjacent
to recess, asphalt
hopscotch and four-
square

i wore a crown
of weeds tethered
together with an 8-year
old’s precision
and striped culottes
that would be ridiculed
the following year

a small crowd surrounded
me and my sunny-shirted
groom in giggles; all
of us the kids and the colors
of a Peanuts comic strip

our makeshift minister
was a boy who once threw
up what looked like half
of a peach floating
in syrup which sat
under the morning
bell in sawdust
until a reluctant custodian
removed it from sight
a day later

down the aisle
i was a nervous
child bride; stepping
cautiously remembering
that once a girl with blonde
pigtails and a perfect Charlie
Brown-round head
did a somersault there
and landed in dog shit

after our dramatization
of what we thought
was committment, the kiss
landed on my lips
then we held hands
for a few minutes

we were divorced
by the time the bus
took us home; no honey-
moon on the jungle gym
or imaginary cruise--
just a tearful me
when i saw him
with a girl taller
than me the next day

[Chose the second prompt ;)]

It all starts

with a joke,
something off-color,
vulgar,
and basic
in design and shape.

Punch line designed
to punch a point
home,
deeply embed
a message
like a knife wedged in the ribs.

Titillating laughter
is the only accolade
that spills forth
from languid,
knife sharpened
tongues
designed only to tear
the soul to shreds.

It all starts off
with a light hearted
gag,
but becomes something soulless,
monstrous,
in the way
words and pranks
froth and foam with
resentment.

Actually, I hope you will send the reminder every day.

Here's mine:


First stop the bank
I’ll need cash
for travel expenses
and at the border
for bribery

in case they
stop and check my luggage
but with any luck
no one will care
about the

dark music that only
appears to come from
my portmanteau
hypnotic
yet strangely arousing

it got me this far
though in Madrid
I was forced to
use it I was afraid
once more than was safe

the Communist
courier
with eyes that never slept
even after sex
obscure cravings

exvb3

Wow! Everyone's getting off to a good start. Maybe I should've started off with a fastball. :) Just kidding.

April Fool


The April Fool
was lost in
a drool
of wheeling and
dealing and
scheming and laughing at
lyrics
and lines
he'd stolen or worse
compiled into verse
to confuse and confound
or spin right around
the foolish March Hare
who was by now
no-where

Losing It

It was a day.
Unlike any other day.
The day you chose me.
The day we finally chose each other.
And the first time I was SURE.

We played trivia.
You drank Bug Light
I drank Long Islands
Then we ate breakfast.
It was perfect.

It was the day I thought my life would change.
The day we spent entirely together.
It was the day that turned into night.
The night I was locked out.
The night you slept in your car for me.
The night you ignored your overprotective mother.
The night we froze, and held each other to keep warm.
It sucked.
But we were together.
The two of us.
Just you
And just me.
It was still perfect.

Of course that one day turned into weeks.
Turned into months.
Turned into tears.
Turned into anger.
Turned into loss.
Then it stopped.
Like a beating heart.
In the middle of spring.

I loved you
With everything I had.
I still don't understand
Why you've disappeared.
I still don't understand
Why you're hurting me.
I still don't understand
Why I still cry.

How does one day feel like a lifetime?
And how does Forever feel like a hoax?

What are words?
These symbols of the thing.
Symbols that I mold with, play with.
Impacting and noble, these letters so combined.
To strike at a man's heart as though with the real
But no, the truth is man was struck down by the ethereal.

First Memory

Rain pouring outside the car
A flat tire and daddy
Fixing it
Droplets of rain running down
His big nose
Many cars behind us stopped
In the muddy road to mommy’s
Land
Cousins come out of their cars
To help daddy
Loud laughter
Daddy can change a tire
Faster than you can think
One minute flat
Even in the rain
In a muddy road to mommy’s
Land
I was one and a half years old
On my first road trip
I remember looking out
The window and watching it all

My First Cat

My first cat was ginger
Like me.
His name was Tigger
(Unlike mine which isn’t)
And he bounced up and down

He ate and he leapt
Like a lot of cats, mostly
He slept.

He was a hunter
Supreme.
A killer of birds
(And rabbits and such)
And he slept in my bed

He ate and he leapt
Like a lot of cats, mostly
He slept.

He’d bring home his prey
To the dog
A Golden Retriever
(Who didn’t retrieve)
They made a great team.

The Magic of 1996

was the illusion
breathing my own smoke
that poetry could get
big enough
to effect change

but in the long run
the stars burned out
changed hemispheres
fell like satelites

poetry goes on
the disenfranchised
the lost
reaching preaching
screaming dreaming
doing it
in the coffee house spot light
for each other

while the spotted politicians go
cha ching
cha ching
cha chitty ching ching

James P. McAuliffe

Sunlight

The first time I napped in Paris-
next to you, how else would I sleep-
the sunlight woke me up.
Mid-afternoon Parisian sun.
So much better than the distant
Midwestern sun we left behind
teasing, sparkling on top of the snow
but never melting it.

I lay in the sunlight and smiled.
What could be better, my forehead
pressed to your neck, my chin
resting on your clavicle,
my arm stretched out
across your chest,
my leg, bent at the knee
swung over your stomach
our afternoon anatomy lesson.

Among the stores and street vendors
scattered around Montmartre,
in front of the most holy Sacré Coeur.
You have conquered me, and I you,
and we sleep, tired from the battle
surrendering as they say
only the French do so well
acknowledging the only other force
with power over us
the bright sunlight beaming
through the thin hotel curtains
awaking us to our dream.

Waiting for My First

I'm waiting for the singularity,
That one miniscule moment in time,
When the world could be crashing down around us,
and we wouldn't even notice.
When I'll see the heart and soul behind a person's eyes,
and know that they're looking at no one but me...
...the simple things that take our breath away.

Your smile becomes the light,when everything is dark.
Love will birth to flame, and we'll become the spark.
As we kiss the planets will align,
Supernovas burst as bodies entertwine.
Beauty interrupted by the blinding light of dying stars,
Be my Goddess Venus, and I shall be your Mars.

The light years that separate,
pale in comparison to the moments in between.
The silver streaks of light that grace a falling star,
are born from the dark side of the moon.

In creation they await,
'til revolution sets them free,
Embodying the beauty of everything I see.
Standing at the edge of an expanse I never knew,
I'm staring down the universe ....... and all I see is you.

My First Rendezvous

You were always a surefooted nimble girl,
You'd always make my thoughts go a-swirl -
On that momentous moonlit night you did turn up
Pitter-patter your teen-aged feet too,did run up

An unsmiling Dad opened the door to a girl alone
Asking for me, as if unsure I were really at home
He led you to me, his rare smile overspilling shone
With weak legs I held your hand for a midnight roam

What emotional debris we left behind on that walk
My mind like a worried bird kept pecking at your talk
Warm air and soft moonlight, hardly people who'd gawk
Often your smile smashed into my muted smile, a rock!

Can't recall details but that heart-tugging night
I probably didn't sleep a wink, after a hug, a good night.

Max Babi

It’s Such A Cliché to Fall

First things first
it wasn’t love at first sight
but at first blush you had me wondering
if you were first among equals
and now that we’re on a first name basis
I have to shoot first and ask questions later
give you first right of refusal
because it’s first come first served
and before I carry you out feet first
I encourage you to plunge in feet first
for if at first you don’t succeed . . .
fall in love with me first, or second, or third
so long as it’s first and foremost

SHALL I SING TO THEE OF HATRED?

As you feed, the gentle drops of blood caress thy cheeks like crimson tears, my love, sweet morphogenetic memories of all the times we’ve slain together, a line of corpses stretching to forever.

Shall I sing to thee of hatred, while the wine-red moon lies fat and plump upon a sullen unforgiven sky, beloved? Or, doth thy inclinations, bereft of meaninglessness, paradigmatically assert their wrothful command?

Shall I woo thee with insurance until the gibbous enormity patronises the very longitude of marsupial afterbirth, dearest? Or would'st thou engrave upon delinquent carnage, flailing widdershins around solemnity's crepuscular astrolabe?

And whence thy infinitesimals, thy gaping quiesence, fistula-burdened cog bust but, lover? Neigh! Nay! Nor never shall thy crapulent derangement under-vanquish even great Cthulu’s magnificence.

Copyright © S R Schwarz 2007. All rights reserved.

The first time I got stoned there was a meteor shower, and I lied on, ‘the hill,’ in our flat Indiana town, watching what I thought were the amazing effects of this drug.

4/1/08
First of Many
by Stacey Rasfeld

Give me a reason
to stop and take a real breath

Give me a reason
to have some perspective

Remind me to take a chance,
to make a choice,
to take an action outside of my mindless, ingrained routine of days

Aaaaah-- I remember now---
crisp fresh cold air drawn deep into my lungs --
relaxing

daisies -- extravagantly silly

Smiles -- absolutely free

Aaaaah -- I remember now --- this moment is mine.

Firsts

Furtively, I took my father's double-edged
blade and crept to the bathtub,
sure, for some reason, I'd be told
I was still too young
to look like the other girls,
so sleek, so acceptable.

I touched it to my ankle
and immediately, blood
spurt out on white porcelain,
a chunk of skin and some flesh
detached and lying on the drain.

Now I'd have to get help and confess:
I tried to shave my legs.



Robin Morris

Unchained
4/1/08

It wasn’t the first kiss that captured my heart.
But it certainly caught my attention.
As we sat on the naked pedestal
Of a resurrected Genius
He caught my eyes with his,
Lifted my chin gently with his fingertips,
Brushed the hair back from my face,
Leaned down tentatively,
Then gaining courage
Tasted me.
Thoroughly.
I hadn’t expected this.
I mean, sure we’d been talking for months,
Typing becoming late night phone calls,
Words becoming lifelines as my reality shifted
And his gained life and purpose again.
But that first taste, so gentle yet so fierce
And suddenly this wasn’t just a casual first meeting anymore.
I felt the stars pause, waiting, watching…
We lingered there, entwined together
Chuckling as our hair would entangle
Blowing in our faces, not to be ignored
As we explored each other’s eyes and lips.
And still the stars held their breath.
When duty finally forced its hand
And we found ourselves back at his car, avoiding that final goodbye
He took my face in his hands, his touch so gentle,
His look so tender.
And he kissed me again
Caressing my cheek with such care
Yet holding me in place
Like he never wanted to let go
A kiss of dreams.
Of lifetimes.
The stars took a breath
And he took my heart with him as he drove away.

MY FIRST EVERYTHING

My rivers have always flowed for you
My heart never stopped beating for you
Can’t describe these feelings baby
You got me going crazy

You got me blowing up your cell phone and
Wanting to drive 12 plus hours to get to your home
You got my toes curling with just the sound of your voice
I have many options but baby, you are my first choice

See you were my first everything
We just never made it to that wedding ring
I don’t have to have you sexually
Just want to lie perfectly
Still next to you fully clothed or butt naked
Want to wrap my soul around your heart and erase your past heartaches
Will you embrace me?

Will you allow me to open up my soul to you?
I do know that you love me too
I want your fingertips to trace my curves
I want to stare into your eyes without saying a word

I want to return to the day we met
I at 14, you at 16 and tell you my secrets that I know you would’ve kept
It’s been 22 years and I still feel the same
You are that sunshine, that fresh breeze after a pouring rain
You are definitely God’s gift to me and
No matter what…you always will be

Wanda Burns

If you enroll in
a new workshop every time
one poem is enough

Carmen is charmin' and there's no alarmin' me when she's around in my life
She cares and she bears up under the scares that wears and wears on me and my wife.
She's there for me always
In bedrooms and hallways
And cooks most deliciously
But the one thing that pleases
Is the love that she teases from every moment we live.

First Day At School


"Hey you, new kid!"
"Who me?"
"Yes, you
"D'ya knmow who I am?"
"Haven't a clue."
"Well, I'm the class monitor,"
"My word is law..
"When I say, 'kid, drop',
"You get down on the floor.
"If I say clean dusters
"You do as I say
"If you want protection,
well, kid, you must pay.
Two bucksfrom your lunch money
That's all I need
I'm as honest as day
Not given to greed
Hey, kid, as sure as my name is Billjack
I'll keep the tutors of'n your back."
I gave him the finger and lit for the door.
Stuff college, I'm not coming back any more.

on this life's stage, frightened
no guidance for this one...

only part written in this play
was 'pucker up'...

first kisses tied to butterflies
stitched into stomachs

explaining the uneasy feeling inside

http://consciousme.blogspot.com/2008/04/poem-day-poem-1.html

Sew Buttons

It's cold
my coat blows open
it's buttons
warm
dancing
inside my pocket

You first

Rays of sunshine on my leaves.
I wake up and feel the dew
running away from me.
I wake up first and wait for you.
Will you be late? I want you to caress my drops,
I save them all for you.
I know you are thirsty.

Hurry. You are the first to taste my love,
you are the first to wake up under my shadow,
you are the first to be green,
you are the first to shine,
you are the first to see the
rays of sunshine on my leaves.

He entered my life with a scratching
Plastic poised over metal
Dust popping explosively
beneath a needle
Riding vinyl valleys
A revelation with rhythm
And melody snaking its way
from crossroads creations
to London avenues

Later he would chop down
a mountain
as I drove past one
on the way to neon,
narcotic nighttimes,
10,000 screaming, raising
their hands in the air on command
Stars close enough to ignite
dreams of stages and lazer light shows

But at the first
he was the sound of distant revolutions
33 1/3 times, out of a love
summer, simmering
And no, I was not experienced
when he asked
But he was

I didn’t have to ask
To stand next to his
Fire, but the flames touched me
leaving no ashes and the scars

were beautiful

Kenn Rodriguez/ABQ

APRIL 1

I thought I'd watch me some TV
I'd been up since four, a writing
The morning show, on channel Ten
Looked the most inviting.

The anchor guys said
"Let us cross, to Washington DC
Where our PM, Kevin Rudd
Is there with Hillary
Clinton, that is.

The sweet reporter
in innocence
Said: "I've breaking news.
Since Hillary hit the campaign trail
She got the mega blues.
Stand by, Australia.

I know what she's about to say
Is gonna knock your socks
Hillary is quitting.
Stand by for the shocks
They're coming.

Our anchor people they were stunned
Gobsmacked would be the word
For Hillary to call it quits
Nah! people, that's absurd.
It looks like Barack and McCain
Are it.

I could feel the buzz from the screen,
The anchor folk, dumbfounded.
I sat there all bemused.
No! I was, as you say, astounded.
Hang on a bit...

Bingo! the penny made its drop
When I heard the reporter say.
Gotcha guys! It's April One
Practical jokers' day.
Back to the studio.

One year you've been gone
In my arms until the end
In my heart always




A small cheat because I wrote this on the first anniversary of a death. I did write the one below this morning.

The first of April
A day for fools and laughter
Why only one day?

My First Date



Nervously sitting in the theater chair,
Holding my popcorn not knowing what else to do.
Sitting here, awkwardly looking beside me, at you.
I'm still new to this whole dating scene;
My stomach fills with butterflies...Or perhaps that's my spleen.
I never did well at anatomy; all I know is I'm scared
How do I act? How do I know if you care?

You look at me and smile in that side-way grin of yours
But I look away, bashful, and instead admire the floor.
Look at all the popcorn and trash—who cleaned?
When is the movie going to start? Oh wait, it's not even six-thirty.
Why did we come so early? That's right so we could talk;
But now we're here and I've got nothing. My mind has suddenly been replaced by chalk.
Or something like that. I didn't ask you to judge.


You clear your throat, shift in your chair, and my body stiffens
Accidentally, of course. That's right—I'm brave;
If you put your arm over my shoulders, the night might be saved.
But you don't. We don't touch. We don't talk. We just stare
At the blank screen. Wondering, thinking...do you even care?
I swear the dating scene should come with a book;
Of what to expect and if there is a certain look.

Maybe if I reach over and take your hand, would that be weird?
Perhaps if I look at you like this, you can read my mind,
And know that I like you, I do! So do something before we run out of time!
Just touch me somehow, make it intimate in someway!
Anything, to make me know I am doing okay...but maybe I am not.
Are you disappointed? Am I fool? Has this night been thwarted?
What have I done? What can I do? When has dating turned everyone to fools?

We look at each other, this time we don't look away.
Your mouth begins to open like you got something to say.
I raise my eyebrows in that questioning look, but you close your mouth;
We're silent. I really have no idea what this is all about.
For a hopeless romantic, I'm sure dumb when it comes to this--
Tonight is definitely not going to end with one small kiss;
Which is probably good because I'd mess that up too.

How do I get through to you? How do I know where this is going to lead?
What at this moment am I supposed to believe?
That's it! I quit. I'll say what I mean! I'll tell you I want you,
I like you, please say you like me too!
I open my mouth; the previews begin to roll;
Wasted all that time and still stuck with no place to go.
And we're there making fun of the previews

We have similar taste I see; you laugh at things
That I think are funny. That's cool, right? That means something...right?
Or not. I am thinking too much again
And perhaps this date means nothing. Perhaps we'll just be friends
Ah, figures. This is what always happens to me
For a romantic, I think I can say
I've flunked out of this dating game.

First Love

I saw him exactly two times a year for four years,
Because in boarding school you go elsewhere to dances,
Or the other school comes to you, a schedule that made
It easy to be in love, truly, madly and infrequently.
This kind of love never messed up my doing homework and
Didn’t make me break out my mascara in the morning.
Mostly it just created long distance bliss whenever
I got a letter from “Vermont Academy” that was placed,
With the rest of the mail, on the dorm’s living room table,
In full view of all the girls, another plus.
First love. It can be as simple as his second letter,
In terrible but lovely teenage boy handwriting, that said,
“OH NO, I didn’t know you spelled your name with one ’n,’
Now I have to go back and erase all those extra ‘n’s.’”
It thrilled me to imagine how many that might be.

Lyn Sedwick

First Bra

We talked about “developing”
we were sitting on the twin beds
in Patsy's room
Mary Ellen said “Mom promised
she would buy me a bra”
We all frowned, eyes widened
“You're flat as a pancake”
we all said-- or thought
we involuntarily lifted our chests,

It was a while before I got my first--
“You saw it in Seventeen” the tag said.
Rite of passage.

C.Chase
4/1/08

Maiden Voyage

Proceeding blindly
excited, unsure
into the unknown.
What should I look for?
No frame of reference,
no map and no trail
stumbling in the dark.
What if I should fail?
I take a deep breath,
question my sanity
and step off of the edge.
What will happen to me?

MY FIRST TASTE OF CORNFLAKES
Every time I eat a spoonful of Corn Flakes
it remindes me the first time I ever tasted it
at my grandpa's house in Fort Qu'Apple.
I was five.
It smelled sweet,like his house
and him.
Now, when I lift a spoonful to my lips,
the scent takes me back to a hot summer,
Seseme Street on the black and white TV,
Me, looking at the oldest man I ever knew,
chomping on Corn Flakes....
like time stood still.

And the river,
in its infancy,
was like wild,
an April wind unleashed,
and I, first to the shore,
will ready the canoe
for the journey,
ancestors passing by
in mists rising
from the glassy surface--
frail and gossamer lace
lifting to dance
in the wind unleashed.
Our first journey,
upturning the canoe
to meet the sun,
melt the winter’s
breaking back.
And the beauty
of breaking
the river’s mirror
with our clamouring oars,
the joy in knowing
that summer soon comes,
relaxes the unleashed
April wind.

“First Crush”

I was eleven in ’76…
He got my attention that year
With deep brown eyes and long black hair
And a voice I still love to hear.
Playing guitar in a rock and roll band,
I heard him most every night
From the radio I kept beside my bed
And listened to late at night.
New emotions for the very first time
Took me by surprise,
I loved to imagine him standing there—
Oh, how little girls fantasize!
You’re never a kid when you dream this way,
You’re always fully grown
And you want so much to be swept away
To a world you’ve never known.
But little girls grow up one day
And eventually see
The plans they’ve made are all in vain,
Their dreams will never be.
So they move on, looking to find
Those dreams of love so sweet
In flesh and bone, but the perfect man
Is one they’ll never meet.
Still their young hope is kept alive
Just in case they find
This perfect man they secretly
Created in their mind.

First Kiss

Michigan Ave is busy
Traffic passing by
One hand around his
Neck, the other on my
Bag (full of children’s stories)
And then (they are on their own)
There is nothing better than
Risking life and limb
For a (new pleasure)
First (from him)
Kiss

Rebecca

First Rites

At seventeen, we were far enough
from home to keep secrets.
We fumbled the poles into their snaps and loops,
arcing, stretching the tent like a drum
between. I wanted to be a man
so I gathered sticks and fallen
branches, cussed and cussed and cussed till the matches
took.

With the cottonwoods and the light
failing fast it became difficult
to talk. I laughed too loud. Fussed
too much with the little flame. We both
pretended to love the taste
of Winstons. I waited for you
to say you were cold. You waited for me
to ask.

We might have looked
more narrowly into the fire,
seven wood spokes
gone coal, nightbirds
somewhere softly arguing
I will I will I will
swear to God
I will.

(a poem about my first-born son)

Holding

I once held you in my womb,
you kicked and shoved to get out,
got stuck on the way,
and entered the world
all puckered and screaming,
with a big bruise on your head.

i once held you in my arms.
you squirmed to get down
so I let you and
you ran off laughing,
fell and skinned your knees.

I'll always hold you in my heart
even when you push me away;
My womb is empty and my arms ache;
I know at times life will bruise you
and at times you'll fall,
but my hand is always here
to hold.

MIRROR IMAGE Dreams are ones mirrors image! With eyes wide open they will disappear! Eyes closed tight they reappear! Close your eyes to reality and sleep, for a dream may take you in deep! Close your eyes in the day and wishfor a boat to sail, or just maybe you win a lottery in the mail! Is reality an illusion or does one like a little confusion! Some dream at night will be a delight,yet for some they are a fright! Some see an image in a mirror,were others just sees it diminish! A mirror image for some maybe a fantasy,were others simply see a mirror image! By John C. Van Buskirk Sr.

First Recital

Ten years old and shy
I wore my first long dress
Singing Brahms' Lullaby
in German no less. All went
well until....I forgot the
words! Could I flee or
sink through the floor?
My teacher at the piano
rescued me by suggesting
a duet.I survived.
Stage fright was part
of my entire career.

"First Thought"

The first aha of the morning –
while the sun is still back of the curve of the lake
when I hear an answer to a befuddling question
when I am at peace and peering through blinds
I spy a strip of pinkorangelavender light surging forward –
is the first and best and clearest thought of this new day.

My first M.A.
And then I play.

I'm almost done.
Time for freedom and fun.

Goodbye to the books
And the dirty looks

From stuffy profs
With stale old thoughts.

Liberation is nigh.
Give me a high five.

Woo hoo!

This is my first time posting..I hope you like it.


She harraassed me
Each and everyday.

You got to meet him.
You will like him.

I so gave in,
she was very pushy.

I drove with her to your house.
We woke you up.
And through the light,
I knew you were my mine.
The look in your blue eyes
made me fall the first time.

April Fools

Why foolish April first?
This day written in purple pin- striped crocuses,
yippy olé, farewell to febrile winter’s comforters,
at last this retro popsicle
blue sky melting into
storm clouds like black ops?
This would not be the first time I knew
the sky was falling like the stock market in my plastique bones,
the earth gnawing open and giving birth
to seasons out of joint.
For whom will the mantis
give his rosary of iridescent dew,
on this day of saints and clowns,
indistinguishable?

Maria Jacketti

My First Job

My first job was at a festering fast food hellhole
renowned for its caffeine and breakfast pastries.
I was the tender age of sixteen.
I started work on All Saint’s Day.

Within days,
the skin on my palms burst open
with dry dishwasher’s sores,
and I thought the drive-thru headset
was permanently attached to my head.

Within months,
I had gained fifteen pounds
from free fried bread and sugar-soaked drinks.
Dark third-shift-borne circles formed around my eyes.
I got shorted about two hundred dollars’ pay,
but I was promoted to shift leader.
Woo-hoo.

Within a year,
I couldn’t stomach the shit we sold anymore
and shrank back down to a normal size.
I couldn’t listen to the mind-maiming muzak
or pretend that I gave two-thirds of a shit
about any of my customers – even the regulars.
And I couldn’t tell our new recruits,
pregnant teen bitches that they were,
to do anything but go fuck themselves.

I walked out on Halloween, and that was that.

Just came across this and couldn't resist joining in-fun!

First Day of Summer

We throw the bag
into the back of the van
and head out, laughing.
The radio shares
our excitement
as we sing along,
off key and very loud.
Greeted by
shimmering water,
shovels, pails,
and laughing children.
Sand between our toes,
warm and scratchy.
Sun on our necks,
hot and dry.
We drop everything
and jump into the water.
Refreshed.

I still remember the beginning, the beginning of it all
When everything was so new and electrifying
When it all sent chills of excitement up my spine
I still remember the beginning before it all began to unwind
New things became old and consequences showed
Now I am caught somewhere between regret and hope
Old wounds refuse to mend
How am I to cope?
I remember the beginning, the beginning of it all
I am terrified of the end

Carl

He was shy but not lacking in confidence
He was sexy but not cocky
He was authentic not made up.
He as a MAN

Energy flow strongly but overpowering
Laughter came in genlte waves but not raucously
Smiles were abundant but not false
He was a man

I wanted to fall gentley into his heart
I wanted to listen to his voice forever
I wanted to be with him
Because He was a man.

4/1/08

The True First

My heart was beating faster than I thought it should
(buh-Bum)
Butterflies stole my breath; I'd have run if I could
(buh-Bum)
Surely there'd never be another moment like this
(buh-Bum)
I puckered up and leaned in for my very first kiss
(buh-Bum)
Who'd have thought the world was so completely unfair
(buh-Bum)
All this, and I've only kissed my teddy bear


Happy April Fools!

first time a fool
a fool always first
i heard today a friend died
and i cried
but then i thought "it's april first"
and i laughed
but then i didn't know
and i read more
and i wondered
and i wonder still
do i weep or laugh
or just rest in the space in between
today and tomorrow

Heaven’s Touch
[Poetry Month Challenge – April 2008 #01]

The touch of heaven
Beckons from her fingertips and
The slave I am
Becomes entwined in the lessons
Such bountiful hips can give
And the lover in me
Fights to run free
To live in her memory
Her
My own
Personal soliloquy
Her
My own personal revelry
Sitting on the waysides of life
Wondering if this passionate dreams
Is of her
Or just me
Wondering
If when I wake
Will it be us
Or just me
Don’t take this dream from me
If she is not
A part of the
Reality of me

"Khaotik’s alKhemiKalli Potent Brew" [Tuesday, April 01, 2008]
Kopyright 2008. Omavi Mafujo Ndoto. All Rights Reserved.

APRIL 1, 2008

A poem a day
Will keep the munchies at bay...

Atleast that is what I tell myself
As I sit at my desk at 2:35,
Waiting for 4:30 to roll around.

My ipod is singing a random mix of
Elvis, Wallflowers, Trace Adkins
And the occasional selection from the
Pure Moods CD that I bought from
An infomercial when I was 12.

My co-workers are busily clicking,
Surfing the net just like me.
We all pretend to be furiously busy
But if a passer-by were to take a peek,
They would find:
IM chats blinking,
Email checking,
Ebay buying,
And articles being read...
...some noteworthy CNN.com pieces
And some not-so-worthy TMZ.com gossip-blogs.

I stick a piece of gum in my mouth,
A sick attempt to make my stomache think
That it is being fed.
When in reality, dinner is still hours away.

N.E. Tasker

Such a great idea...

This is the last day
of the first day of then
now
I breathe in the inner g
no more fights

take me
beyond the shine
of the rays

digging deeper
slicing through surface

core
be
sweet
delicious

First time
last goodbye
open
up
to

Newborn Soul

cry out first
sing out first

My First Day as Old

I pulled into the gas station
the attendant said, “Ma’am,”
It killed me, to hear my mom’s name
Aimed at me personally.

No longer am I “honey,”
No more the flirty “Babe,”
I’m just a slow old lady
Driving 30 to my grave.

As soon as I could get away
I pulled out from the pumps
I hid my eyes behind some shades
And sobbed in great big gulps.

My youth was waving bye-bye
As I drove along the road
She flapped and grinned then turned
Her head and ran the other way.

I’ve traded in my jazzy clothes
For polyester in sensible tan
I’ve traded in my two-seater roadster
for a frumpy old sedan.

Colored contacts have given way
To glasses perched high upon my nose
My shoes, the four-inch stiletto heels
Are now one-inchers with support hose.

I’ve gotten used to Ma’am and such
Other old lady endearments
I’m only too glad to see each new day
Even if I’m only a remnant.

First Crush.

A boy I knew, his name was Josh
Ugly booger nose pasty white boy
He was nice and kind and friendly, especially to me.
Open and Honest and fun to be around.
After a while, that's all I saw.
I forgot he was a pasty white boy.
I enjoyed being liked by him- if only as a friend.
I liked how he always smiled at me, smiled when he saw me. Then I smiled when I saw him.
It's wonderful to receive a smile.

The first time
I wrote a poem
in a box,
happened with
these few words.

Smiling Eyes

The first time I said yes, they said the child was waiting.
I saw the clear long tubing resembling straws gone a stray.
They were attached to the plastic bags mounted on clicking machines.
Clear liquid entered a 2 inch wide forearm held tight with a board
White thick liquid, milk? dripping into another, disappeared into the tiny abdomen.
How can one little body get fed by so many straws?
Wait, the child he’s verbalizing and smiling how can this be?
He‘s engaging me with his shinny brown smiling eyes.
Looking at him I feel he has become the glass.
Yes that’s it, he is the glass that holds the straws,
He is so fragile. Yet so strong.
I will learn to fill the glass, and together we will endure.
With smiling eyes.

April 1st Poem

First second or third
who has time to keep score
with all the life we're living
marriage childbirth love hate and divorce
things move quickly and memories are long lost
working too hard and always too long
my first love left me
my first child a disgrace
my first job didn't pay a bill
but I'm always up at firt light

THE ALMOST WORLD


A new soon-to-be-announced world
lay ready to exit God's Womb
one still twilight moment
with midwife stars attending

but the Great Infant Hope
overstepped feet first,
kicked its way to debut,
slipped buttocks forward
(two moon slices locked in
impasse)

and All-angry/All-embarrassed
Mother/Father/God
tugged taut the umbilical string
strangling the almost world to blue.

Foetus the Failure shook infant fists
at all creation, crawled up the canal route
then died there about three ayem
swearing galactic blashemy.

#

I’VE BEEN PRANKED



Eavesdropping, I hear Pancho the dog
at the feline ear of Kit Ten our siamese cat,
saying what? Pancho and the cat, usually
at odds, one chasing the other's tail,
but this April's first day the two sit
muzzle to perked-up ear while I listen
from the crack in the kitchen door ajar
for eavesdroppers like me, wondering
what gives here! Pancho growls, Kit Ten
nods her chocolate-brown head, and then––
I swear it!––they give each other a high five,

little cat paw to giant dog paw, and they
go their separate ways. When I enter the kitchen,
my dinner plate filled with Cheerios
is on the floor, beside a spilled cup of Joe.
I look around for the sign that says
"April Fool!" but not finding it, I kneel
at my breakfast, somewhere four pet eyes on me,
and pretend I'm licking up my meal because
Hey, I can take a joke with the rest of them
and Pancho's no Villa and Kit Ten sleeps in bed
with me when I catch a springtime flu.

#
(C) 2008 Salvatore Buttaci

First

Firsts that count: first breath, first kiss, first baby,
get in line behind firsts that just pass on by
Like first sneeze, first bad grade, first insult,
First compliment, first really ripe strawberry,
Life sweeps by, carrying me in its currents
trying to blur out my wish for reflection on
which things really matter.
Everything is connected
Everything has to matter.

First rate fruit cake... the story of an emo

First off
where do you get off
calling me a whore, a bitch, and a fruit cake?
Can't say I've been labeled a fruit cake before
But I can shake and bake
and I refuse to take
you up on your offer
of being called anything but what I am
and I'll be damned
if you can just blow me off
kiss off
because you can get off
at the first stop
and just hop
your way over to her
my friends and I concur
I should tell you first and foremost
you're the real fruit cake
and for my sake
I'm better off without you

The First Cheat

Won't blame the beer
Though it was too warm
Won't blame the night
Though it was too cold
Won't blame the age
Though it was too young
Won't blame the reason
Though it was too old
Won't blame the boy
Though he was too close
Won't blame you
Though you were too far

Guess that only leaves me...

RYGrandmas' Little Miracles

The first time I saw this little miracle of life,
I knew things would never be the same,
But everything would be just right.

His smiles, his cries, his laughter is music to my ears
I knew things would never be the same,
For all the joy out weighs all the fears.

Now, my life is blessed even more with another miracle of life,
I know things will never be the same,
Because things could never be more right.\

Her smiles, her cries, her laughter will be music to my ears,
I know things will never be the same,
For all the joy will out weigh all the fears.

Being a Grandma is the most rewarding job in this life,
I know things will never be the same,
Because things could never be more right.

MY FIRST CAR

one day I decided
to buy a car
my first car. though I only had my license
for two days
(ut oh)
and I had no idea what I was looking for, just something with four wheels and a steering wheel preferably red
with a sunroof
and a radio that
played CDs or MP3s
it did not matter to me
and as if I owned the lot I walked right up to the salesman and said I want this one, pointing my hand
my shaking hand
at a
95 Dodge Neon
with a little dent in the left bumper
he looked at my
shaking hand
and I had some doubts
(clunkerpieceofshitflattireshscrazytestdrivemotorwhatdoesthatdoanyway)
they seemed to water the fire that had once scorched my ass
but I pushed forward
feeling a little better when asked me if I wanted to test drive it
huh?
you mean you will let me just take it?
I guess he did not know what to say
and he motioned me into the building
when I came out, I had a new car
I thought I got a good deal
a 5,000 dollar car for 7000 dollars
at 45% interest rate
stretched out for four years
at 250 dollars a month
and that nice man
even took my picture
perhaps to
hang on his wall
as the worlds most
gullible
car shopper.
on the way home
I got a flat tire.