Machine Assembly begins the day Lucifer is fired from the Father’s project. Since then everything on earth has been sacrificed to construct this apparatus. Millennia of patient assembly leads to today’s precise Pharisaic gears meshing Roman justice with Judas cog to draw Son into Evil’s engine. He is denied even a simple wheel to drag… Continue reading Machine
Lucifer at Calvary From the opening whistle in the garden it’s been an even match though He boastfully predicted I’d be left with a crushed head. I’ve played my hand well countered Abraham with Lot Isaac with Ishmael the Israelites with the Egyptians David with Absalom. My several setbacks? Blame them on bad luck. The… Continue reading Lucifer at Calvary
Cup I am thinking today of a cup mug, glass, tumbler goblet, teacup, sippy cup tulip or barrel-shaped angled or rounded plastic, glass, china silver or stainless steel. I am thinking today of a cup of water, milk or juice drunk to slake thirst, add nourishment coffee or tea to add a burst of energy… Continue reading Cup
Physiotherapy appointment For one hour a week us hip surgery survivors meet on the fantasy island of the physiotherapy gym. A technician in orange T-shirt butterflies from one cot to the next sets a wedge under knees straps a weight to an ankle harnesses a foot in a stirrup links the stirrup to a spring… Continue reading Physiotherapy appointment
Life between the rows I look down at my garden at tight pink hyacinths ready to pop green spears of tulip clumped in the randomness of fall planting but nothing stirs in me except guilt. I should be out there softening the soil letting in the air, stirring it to a rich black backdrop that… Continue reading Life between the rows
Still mothering me Five days ago would have been your birthday. It’s been eight years … But you still visit me often keep me cool every summer when I slip on the brown sundress rescued from your closet wrap your arms around me every winter week it’s the old magenta sweater’s turn. Sometimes I catch… Continue reading Still mothering me
Play with words Toy with words and you play with fire Gather memories like moss and kindling Quartz against quartz, ideas friction and spark Wisp of smoke is a portent Gather memories like moss and kindling Focus thought to a pinpoint through the lens of time Wisp of smoke is a portent Soon we will… Continue reading Play with words
Texture Poem CORduROYcorDUroyCORduROY WHICKwhackWHICKwhackWHICKwhack taDAtaDAtaDAtaDAtaDAtaDAtaDA warmCOLDwarmCOLDwarmCOLDwarm HAPPYsadHAPPYsadHAPPYsadHAPPYsad SUNmonTUEwedTHUfriSATsunMONtue... janFEBmarAPRmayJUNjulAUGsepOCTnovDEC © 2017 by Violet Nesdoly (All rights reserved) *************** Prompt - Inspiration Write a poem that highlights (puts in relief like braille) a particular texture: gritty or smooth, rubbery or sharp, slimy or dry. Do whatever you can with language and imagery to achieve this sensory… Continue reading Texture poem
Thirteenth Summer It wasn’t that I could not get up the nerve to water-ski or that I hated myself in a bathing suit It was bare feet of tanned twins next to mine in that Waskesiu boat smoothly brown as Indian princesses nails polished the pink of shells beside my pasty sandaled peasants that made… Continue reading Thirteenth Summer
Lady in white Today on my walk I pass a trim little old lady all in summer white, though the wind is sharp and at night frost still nips the rooftops. As she strides by our eyes meet, we exchange a momentary smile, and I think how she is probably a literary sort–a stream of… Continue reading Lady in white
Violet Nesdoly 