early morning
jack-o-lanterns dissipate
twinkle lights glow in the dark
love waking up before the sun
———-r-u-n-n-i-n-g———-
music whispers in my ears
nagging thoughts invade
between broken lyrics
—–r-u-n-n-i-n-g—–
heel toe heel toe
through my head
ideas find shape
brisk winds &
icy daydreams
r-u-n-n-i-n-g
Copyright © 2010 N.E. Tasker
Tonight, I will be taking a red-eye flight
from Los Angeles to Manchester.
Probably have a couple hours layover
in a U.S. city along the way.
I will be tired from trying (and failing)
to get sleep on the plane.
I will be smelly from walking
around multiple airports
over a span of 12 hours in the same clothes.
I will be restless in an aisle seat, waiting
for my planes to take off and land.
I will be anxious in the stuffy shared air
as my fellow passengers and I tap
our fingers and our feet in anticipation.
We will politely push and shove each other
out of our way like cattle out of a cage.
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.
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.
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.
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.
I will kneel in front of the desk
in my childhood room, sliding open drawers
and exploring cubby holes.
Finding things I thought
I would never need, but saved anyway.
Thinking now that I have a use
for these long lost treasures.
I will reach underneath my bed
and pull out clear containers.
They are full of nick-nacks and diaries,
photographs and stuffed animals,
erasers and note pads.
I will try to obey my mother
and find some things to get rid of,
but probably fail and put everything
back in its place.
Copyright © 2010 N.E. Tasker
Warm sun
Like rain on my face
Arms open
Collecting yellow rays
Skin burning red
Hair bleaching white
So far away
Hardly spitting distance
One day closer
Six minutes late
Hug a girlfriend
Love her sisterly
Containers and lids
Grasp and salvage
Seal leftover smooches
Dwell on them later
Not over it when
There is nothing left over
Punch sponge
Permeate the deck
Mop up and sop up
Bucket and broom
Let it rain
In the light and day
Bleed blue
Blood red geraniums
Rickrack and lace
Tie it in a bow
Copyright © 2010 N.E. Tasker
I will kneel in front of the desk in my childhood room, sliding open drawers and exploring cubby holes.
Finding things I thought I would never need, but saved anyway.
Thinking now that I have a use for these long lost treasures.
I will reach underneath my bed and pull out clear containers.
They are full of nick-nacks and diaries, photographs and stuffed animals, erasers and note pads.
I will try to obey my mother and find some things to get rid of, but probably fail and put everything back in its place.
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
