an apple

with poisonous seeds
it carries temptation

a serpent

a slither to hiss
through low hanging branches
writhes round vines
arouses your soul

an apple hangs low

so some stories go

beat a drum

Brenda Warren 2014



rattle me

shake me up like music
make me wanna drum
palm, heel, fingers, thumbs

rotating rhythms,
thrumming and taut,
stretched like a string
over all that is naught

drumming the dirt,
palming my thighs,
palpating tender
under cloudy skies

rattle me
roll me
make me pay a toll
give me back the life we lived
before you chose to blow

shake me up like music,
make me wanna drum
palm, heel, fingers, thumbs

Brenda Warren 2014

For Elizabeth’s Day 9.



we all go sometime

smoke and mirrors don’t change anything
slanted reflections always portray partial truths
cutting flesh a raven screams
and I want to go into hiding
somewhere with no windows
where my carriage spreads beneath trees
nourishing roots
and is not preserved in
satin-lined extravagance
under cemetery granite
where lights fade slowly
for the sleeping dead

bury me deep
beneath a cold night sky
while friends drum the Earth
that forms my body into place

with the children build a cairn
of smooth Montana river stones
and with each balanced rock
place a memory
a little me
a little you
a little we
a little them
laugh and talk about me
like I’m not even there

spill a little whiskey for my soul

In good health, I wrote this piece and have tweaked at it for a few days to post at One Shot Wednesday.  Thank you for reading at undercaws.