Amputated Moon

her voice held sadness

cradled for long years

the catch in her throat

made the loss seem new

she saw him leave home

young and tall

armed for war and

shielded by patriotism

and the wait began

then the news that he

was missing—

no news was not good news

POW seems like

something that belongs

to a cartooned superhero

not simply an older brother

today she speaks of the end

a story I had not heard

death in the ocean

of peace

death that came

with the sinking of a boat

and a quick clubbing on the head

by the enemy

still I think she waits

there was no flag-draped

coffin or Taps played

so I know she still waits

Pamela Olson, 5/25/09

For my uncle, Richard Anderson,

Navy, WWII, Pacific Front

POW, MIA

Meme Express,

Monday Poetry Train Revisited

a cloudless night like this

black sky:        undimmed

an atmosphere of

steadiness and clarity

the passing of time

marked by Orion’s rising

above a horizon

shaded with trees

dark shadows over

a quiet ground

I remain here:  caught

between sky and earth

a bright light isolated

dark matter above

shadowy abyss below

floating

tethered to Orion’s belt

within a solace of space

for a cloudless night like this

can set the spirit soaring

Pamela Olson, 5/21/09

From the prompt at

Carry on Tuesday,

“the opening line of

A Walk After Dark by

W.H. Auden”

a slow steady breath

against the molten glass

a puff

a stream

pushed from the lips

at just the right time

the force of air

against the disordered

upon the random

structure

silicon and soda

a bit of lime

flux and heat

form an elastic

expanding skin

which cradles and

envelopes the glass

inside and outside

thinner and larger

diameter fills

with the emptying

of lungs and the

pulling down

of the diaphragm

then comes the cooling

the simple decision

to disconnect the object

away from its creator

one cut

and it is free

Pamela Olson, 5/17/09

For One Single Impression’s

prompt “Tolerance”

For Sunday Scribbling’s

prompt “Disconnect”

the scent of rain fallen

on the asphalt rises

sharp and acrid

a black-blooded smell

lingering long after

the last drop evaporates

the runners of the

St. Augustine grass are

a waterfall of tough green

cascading over curbs

pouring and searching

for further soil

this sterile barrier

lies before them

with a sky reflection

distorted by oil and water

like a dream disturbed

or haunted

double yellow stripes

run down the center

of the broad street

a warning signal

trying to keep order

where none wants to remain

soon the grass will find

purchase in the small

breaks of imperfection

crawling its way across

the road:  green on black

life flowing across and beyond

Pamela Olson, 5/16/09

For Read Write Poem’s prompt

#74, poetry with hyperlinks

all morning our breath

has broken

cold shivers drawn

bitter and blue

Pamela Olson, 5/13/09

From twittermagnets.com

oh scorching words

and sublime phrases

cut within the quick of rock

lay the sharpness

of the wind and rain

upon the surfaced sandstone

carve a willful message

with granular punctuation

across the rough rock

settle me within the stone

cover me with sediment

fossilize me—remember me

for I walked upon your skin

and left my dreams

for you to finish

Pamela Olson, 5/12/09

For Read Write Poem’s

prompt #16 (read write word)

how does wandering feel to the foot

dusty and aching

restless or staid

unbalanced

pleasure

            or pain

a small stone

rounded by years away

from its birth place

causes the foot to glide

foward

            a little

along the margins

of the pathway lie

green blades crushed

from a previous passing

of

            a pilgrim

brush along the grass

and the sweet scent

of chlorophyll rises

staining green

the

            bare sole

the foot flexes

its architectural arch

rising like a bow

before

it springs

            forward

turn and look

there in the pathway

is the evidence

fossilized and fixed

the journey

            written

see what the wandering

has left behind

in the soft dust

and the green grass

the imprint

            of a foot

Pamela Olson, 5/10/09

For One Single Impression’s prompt,

“What’s It Like?”

breath             for bone

            like

hand               out                 

window

            slow

Pamela Olson, 5/8/09

from words at Twitter Magnets

Oh to be a rain drop

full of cohesive tension

holding it all together

to soar through the air

float in the clouds

fall into a puddle

to make a never-ending

concentric conversation

a simple rain drop

in bound-communion

one with another

and another

join in a swift storm

in streams rushing

pausing within lakes

widening the rivers

into the never-ending

oscillating ocean

Pamela Olson, 5/7/09

For Read Write Poem’s

prompt, “Revision”

Original poem is

Wish for Rain found here