“truth telling” by dayna leslie hodges



She begins to speak and
her tremulous voice cracks
her words shaky, yet sincere
and full of truth.

Her voice submerged beneath audible
for far too many sorrows.

Her feelings found their way to words
now tumbling into the air
as they quiver past her lips
sharing her history
expressed by heart.

Her story unfurling
in disjointed fragments of
paragraphs and chapters;
her sentences in turn
poetic and pedantic
revealing the dramatic dance
in which she never quite found
her place in the rhythm
because the tune was not her own.

© Dayna Leslie Hodges 2012

“Wet Dreams” by L. K. Thayer

when it rains in LA
all the honesty creeps up
it stares you dead in the face
it can’t hide in the blow out
of sunlight
it can’t hide behind
sunglasses or tinted windows
it can’t hide or duck
the on coming blows
the hangover from the night before
has you in a vice
and it squeezes the truth
from the marrow of your pores
and you ask yourself
why am I hear
you feel like damaged goods
like the bruised peaches and pears
you find at the farmers market
bruised by rejection
from everybody but your dog
and your manicurist
and you go to her just to be touched
as she massages your
hands and shoulders
like you wish a lover would
and the rain comes down
on your rotting dreams
washing away all the nonsense
until the sun comes out
and everything looks
like you can believe in it again
like the lies you tell yourself
about how young you look
and you turn around
and next thing you know
you’re having another birthday
and thinking as you blow out the candles
I wish life was piece of cake

L. K. Thayer

(from my new book “whores don’t kiss” coming soon!)

© 2011

“Truth In The Telling” by Julie Dolcemaschio

Truth spoke of the past
When northern lights
Were the new high
And patches on life rafts
Were a contribution worth noting

It told of days
Filled with sex and jealousy
But the demon sword-swallowers
Were the ultimate draw

A walk on the beach at midnight
Meant words were spoken quickly
And only then never to be uttered again

The luminescent waves
Would record the honey-filled poems
For their gift to live by

The quill speaks of the present
And finds solace in the memory of words
If the truth as she knows it can be written down
Then it stays forever true

So sayeth the brave lass

In possession of the dry pen

I am 20,000 leagues out of my league
And the time for goodbyes comes and goes
But the suffering lingers
Who will speak of the future when
Angels are so hard to find

I have met my share
And have a few perched on my shoulder
One who tells me of the past
And two who will show me the future

It will hold Grenache and frozen grapes
On a hot summer day
If they are lucky

And if it is true
That there is one man for every woman
And one woman for every man

I should like to snare the right choices
In a net of their choosing
So that happiness can be read
Even when the pen runs dry

The gift lives her own truth now

Truth drives the pen to run free

Julie Dolcemaschio

Photo by VC Ferry

© 2010