Poetry/Prose

Last Updated on Tuesday, 9 February 2010 08:14 Written by beverlyhills Monday, 27 July 2009 10:22

Poets Section…

Reaching Higher:

A creature in the distance

losing his grip on the darkness

wanders toward Forever

teetering and sound.

Halleluja.

Piercingly struggle on.

- Cris Devine

Downtown Daydreams:

The way the tree trunk color matches the concrete building behind it

And the concentration of chlorophyll outlines it starkly,

The way the water hinges onto the myriad invisible cilia

Of the cut orchid leaf as it sits in a bowl

Hopefully to sprout anew,

The way the siren screaming out the window

Matches in perfect rhythmic sync

To the song on my headphones…

- Cris Devine

Grandma was a California girl,

a curvy, short blonde with green eyes

whose mother was a Bohemian from Czechoslovakia

and whose father was a trump-footed shoemaker from Sweden.

They met on a ship bound for America.

Grandma met an Irish Frenchman

and bore him seven children

(my Dad being the youngest).

She had a swimming pool and lived in Orange County

and she’d watch my sister and me as we swam.

She would take us to Disneyland

and to the beach at Corona Del Mar

when we came from Minnesota to visit her.

She wore a gold bracelet filled with charms,

representing each of her grandchildren.

Grandma looked half her age, and always smiled.

She smoke cigarettes and got manicures religiously;

consumed saccharine like it was health food.

She got cancer in the 80s but it went into remission.

When it came back, it had spread around a lot.

Now she’s beyond space and time as we understand it

but to me, she’s eternally 25 years old.

And Grandma is a California girl.

- Cris Devine

I woke up crying.

In the dream I had returned

to the countryside

where I grew up.

Trees and sunshine everywhere.

You could hear the rustling life.

Birds calling, cicadas singing

The grass jumped and slithered with creatures.

I exited my house and stood on the porch

When a loud crashing came from the sky.

Bomber jets doing tactical maneuvers

A new and constant thing now,

A time of never ending war.

The ground shook, birds fell from the sky.

What did the people care?

They weren’t

Disturbing the important concrete buildings

of Civilization.

Small fires started on the hillsides

And the country was no more.

- Cris Devine

Weeds
I can’t be the only one

Who’s seen their secret places boarded up

Fences planted needlessly

A backyard gone to concrete

Trees pruned to rot.

Thank God for weeds

And for the errant plant

Popping through civilization

Marks of the taggers

From climbing on rooftops.

The prayer is said for me

And I can only add to it.

- Cris Devine