Nicole Tasker Woods

You bitch and moan
It makes me want to scream
If you do not like it—change it

Do not sit and wallow in unhappiness
Your negative energy invades
The positive I desperately try to emanate

You can not complain in one breath
Then do nothing about it in the next

You do not have the right
To soil everything around you
I am right here next to you

You think you are venting
Is it really my duty to listen?

You are ruining me
Negativity is now pouring out of me
In the form of whining and sighing

I agreed with your harsh statements
I mirrored your sarcastic tone
Bringing injury to my once happy demeanor

I do not want to erase what we have become
But have to prevent the not-so-distant inevitability
That I am going to snap

The only release I have
Is the pissed-off-poet inside of me
Screaming these words out loud

Copyright © 2010 N.E. Tasker

Most of the Elvis memorabilia I collected all of my life has already been shipped to my home in California.

I will still take a gander and try to find something I can bring back with me.

I will prepare a care package for myself, carefully wrapping figurines and ornaments.

Sitting Indian-style on the floor, I will sort through my bookshelf.

Removing invaluable pieces of literature that I need on my bookshelf in California.

I will locate French-to-English dictionaries to bring on our European vacation.

I will undoubtedly pause to flip through photo albums, sparking memories I thought were long gone.

dark pictures
broken memories
shoved in a box of wine
organize my fridge
put the milk next to the butter
crusty outlines of water bottles
clear shelves
slide out and wipe clean
chilly air frosts compartments
close the door
keep it all inside

Inside my childhood room, my closet is still full of my old clothes and my mom’s new outfits.

My bureau’s drawers still hide socks and jeans, pajamas and tank-tops.

I will pull my the stool out from underneath the vanity.

I will sit and look into the mirror at my pink surroundings.

I will remember when and where I got every single trinket and picture now dressing my walls.

You’re silent and it’s showing
It’s aiming right at you
There’s nothing you can do
To fight this fever, it’s about to break

I want to be nameless like you
Lost in a wordless journal
Pages begging to be inked
Fold the corner, come back later

There’s a sledge hammer in the garage
Drag it by the wooden handle
Hold tight, use both hands
Squeeze, swing away

When the sunlight hits your face
Stare blindly into the beaming rays
Don’t shield your eyes
Carry on with the demolition

Or build something, make them wonder
About the burning need to blister hands
Do not recreate, forge new
Is your mind wide open?

Copyright © 2010 N.E. Tasker

From warm bedsheets to hot shower,

body temps drop and jump.

Can’t find a happy medium in this wave of heat

that has suddenly taken hold of Southern California.

I step outside and the morning air is not cool and balmy,

but a sticky 80 degrees.

I can only imagine how hot it is going to be

in five hours when noon rolls around.

In my car, I can not crank the a/c high enough

as my skin surrenders beads of sweat to sticky surroundings.

We waited all winter for summer to step in

and now I wish it would cool down just a little.

The toasty drive to work is accompanied

by violent sunbeams streaming in through the windshield.

No one can focus on the road,

everyone is slamming on their breaks.

The only release is finally exiting the freeway

to enter a chilly parking garage.

The offices upstairs are being pumped full

of conditioned air, waiting for me to enter.

Copyright © 2010 N.E. Tasker

I will lug my suitcases from the trunk of the car to the guest room inside.

My bedroom upstairs will be calling my name as I climb the stairs.

Pink carpet will embrace my feet when I reach the end of the hallway.

Printed pink hearts and plaid wallpaper will close in around me.

I will flop on my bed and hear the creaks I have memorized over the years from sleeping and tossing and turning.

My arms will open and fall to the side.

My eyes will be blinded by the clang and clatter of cluttered walls and desks, bureaus and vanities, closets and shelves.

It’s like climbing a mountain

So hard to find the words to make it all fit

To make it all sound just right

The terrain gets rockier

My feet start to slide and I just want to stop

I am halfway up the mountain

My limbs fall limp, arms dangle at my sides

I won’t turn around but I need to catch my breath

The tip of the mountain is covered in clouds

My head falls back and stagnant air fills my lungs

The smell of regret stings my brain

It’s a flight of fancy as my feet stab the ground

It starts out slow but then gains pace

The unattainable is fulfilled

I take a brief look at the top of this mountain

Limitless possibilities surround

Marking the end of this climb

Copyright © 2010 N.E. Tasker

Mist is thick
Rolling over the ocean shore
It reaches towards us
As we drive along the coast

Wall of fog to the left
No water in sight down below
Mountain cliffs to the right
No sky visible up above

Road stretches, winds and turns
Satellite radio drops in and out
Sun struggles to show its face
Air outside slowly warms

Break for a waterfall in Big Sur
Flowing into untouched beaches
Blue-green waves crashing below
As blue birds eat out of tourist hands

Driving through sun and clouds
Million dollar homes line cliffs and beaches
A spectacular view from every front porch
Carmel for lunch then boutique shopping

As we close in on the Bay area
Clouds subside, clearing the way
For the last two hours of this drive
Along the coast

Copyright © 2010 N.E. Tasker

I will wave my arm and hand in the air and smile at my mother when she comes to pick me up from the Manchester airport.

I will hug her and smell her momma smell and let her arms wrap around my soul.

In late August as we exit the air conditioned indoors, I will no doubt be smacked in the face by the thickest of humid air.

My eyes will feast on the New Hampshire surroundings, taking in all the lush greenery as we drive towards Northwood.

I will delight in seeing my childhood home in the distance.

We will swiftly approach the outdoor cage enclosing a Black Lab and larger-than-life-horse-sized-Chesapeake Bay retriever.

Their tails will wag and their barks will bite the air.

Hopefully silence will fill the air as I exit the car and approach the pups while calling their names.