Dream Song
Still your troubled mind, and dream,
dream yourself to me.
Dream of summer nights electric,
tangled hearts, love’s endless sea.
Still your troubled heart, and dream,
dream yourself to me.
Dream of pure strawberry sweet and
savory velvet ecstasy.
Never doubt, I’m always with you
Never think that I don’t care
Never set your soul to grieving
Close your eyes and I’ll be there
Still your troubled soul and dream,
dream yourself to me.
Dream contentment, dream up Fate,
dream your life, do what you please.
Still your troubled world, and dream,
dream yourself to me.
Dream of freedom, dream of peace,
dream of travel, drift downstream.
Never doubt, I’m always with you
Never think that I don’t care
Never set your soul to grieving
Close your eyes and I’ll be there.
©Jennifer Tucker 2010
Respite
A bit of sunshine and thoughts of you,
as necessary as the air I breathe,
nourish my soul, elevate my mood.
Picture Barbados, a room with a view,
as sounds of the ocean drift up from below,
a bit of sunshine and thoughts of you.
Adirondack chair, a book to peruse,
as palm trees sway in the tropical breeze,
nourish my soul, elevate my mood.
Late nights slow dancing, morning coffee to brew,
as we plan our next mischief,
a bit of sunshine and thoughts of you.
Colorful seashells, we find more than a few,
as our toes relish the feel of sand and of surf,
nourish my soul, elevate my mood.
So when I crave respite from the winter blues,
as I close my eyes I’m likely to find,
a bit of sunshine and thoughts of you
nourish my soul, elevate my mood.
©Jennifer Tucker 2009
Summer Eyes
I’m under the spell of summer eyes,
the palest shade of blue,
that belong to a man whom I surmise
offers love with a heart that’s true.
The palest shade of blue,
with a hint of playful tease,
offers love with a heart that’s true,
refreshing as an ocean breeze.
With a hint of playful tease
and with a wicked knowing smile,
refreshing as an ocean breeze,
I find myself beguiled.
And with a wicked knowing smile,
he gathers me in his arms.
I find myself beguiled
and seduced by his many charms.
He gathers me in his arms
and my troubles disappear
and seduced by his many charms
I discover a love sincere.
And my troubles disappear,
I am his and he is mine.
I discover a love sincere
as our bodies intertwine.
I am his and he is mine
and once again I realize,
as our bodies intertwine
I’m under the spell of summer eyes.
©Jennifer Tucker 2009
Craving
I’ve always been responsible
never shirking obligation
and yet inside
deep down inside
there is a spark of wanderlust
fanned bright
during the bleak months of winter, and
I dream of escape.
Would you be my accomplice?
Pick me up from the corner
and simply drive
in any direction,
to any destination,
anywhere but here.
I’ll keep you amused
with random thoughts.
You can look at me sideways
and make me wonder what you’re thinking
then I’ll tell you what you’re thinking
and you can deny it just for fun.
I’ll fold the map
by tossing it out the window.
When we get to our destination
let me know
and I’ll say FINALLY! JEESH!
just to tick you off.
If we happen to end up
in New Orleans
I’m gonna warn you ahead of time:
I may never be the same again
for from what I hear
this city is a baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad influence
which is exactly
what I’m craving.
©Jennifer Tucker 2009 *previously published in Heartbeats of New Orleans by Jennifer Tucker
Upon the Hill (a Wrapped Refrain)
Upon the hill…an eerie sight
streaming clouds of the brightest white
appear to drift from copse of trees
trees gone silent from lack of breeze
I wonder what I’ll find up there
amidst tree branches dark and bare
I tighten my coat against...the November chill
and stride towards hidden mystery…upon the hill.
Across the field… through scuttling leaves
as I proceed senses perceive
a presence dark and curious
one owning temper furious
at its discovery in the grove
its alchemistic treasure trove
once surely thought protected...but now unconcealed
an earthquake starts as I proceed…across the field.
Upon the hill…I met my death
I saw the truth upon last breath
I caution you to stay away
ignore the need to hilltop stray
our mortal minds can’t comprehend
what other worldly Gods descend
in woods remote and mystical...my blood did spill
here I‘ll stay, a ghostly presence…upon the hill.
©Jennifer Tucker 2010
Alphabet Soup Dreams
A masked man nightly haunts my dreams,
B lack cape, black hair, black eyes,
C alling, taunting, he searches for clues,
D aring bad guys to run and hide.
E gging them on he calls to the hoodlums
F ight like men, you big hairy apes!
G et out your weapons and say your prayers!
H ow could they even dream of escape?
I ncredible sword fights: his claim to fame, then he’d
J ump on his horse, un-harrassed
K illing the bandits with incredible flair while
L adies all swooned as he passed.
M ovies were made telling tales of his life
N ot a bit of the plot line untrue,
O ver bad, good would triumph again and again.
P erhaps you remember a few?
Q uietly, secretly in love he would fall with
R edheads, brunettes, blondes as well
S weeping them one by one off of their feet, while they sighed “Wow, aint he just swell?!”
T he mark he would leave, his calling-card brand
U pon his enemy’s shirt he would tear…A jaggedy “Z“, a real one of a kind: his
V anquished would just stand there and stare.
W ho is this masked man who haunts all my dreams when
X anax is popped before bed?
Y ou’ll not be surprised when you hear his good-byes:
Z orro! Zorro! Yes that’s what he said!
©Jennifer Tucker 2008
Why Ours?
A tiny blonde girl, a brown-eyed boy
Same age, few words, autistic
Who will linger and who will escape?
Side by side they sit during story time
Practicing their manners, humoring the typicals
Side by side they work during therapy
Using their words, controlling their tempers
Side by side they play during recess
Spinning, spinning, and sideways glances
A tiny blonde girl, a brown-eyed boy
Same age, few words, autistic
Who will linger and who will escape?
One tries new diets, no gluten, no dairy
One tries new therapy, intensive, expensive
Yet the tiny girl lingers, monotone voice, aggressive temper…
One can read cue cards, spell words, create sign language
One can make progress with words and emotion
and now the brown-eyed boy holds out his hand to the tiny blonde girl at recess…
A tiny blonde girl, a brown-eyed boy
Same age, few words, autistic
The girl will linger, the boy will escape
Leaving the parents to wonder…
Why ours?
©2009 Jennifer Tucker
*previously published at ViciousWriters.com magazine
River Lullaby
Nightfall settles upon the waters of the Cumberland River.
Details of the forested riverbanks merge
forming a solid darkened backdrop to the majestic sunset,
whose shades of indigo and peach diffuse
in the wake of traveling boats and wandering clouds.
Amidst the blinking lights of channel markers,
Ospreys dive and soar,
their snow white silhouettes glow in the receding sunlight
as they celebrate the purest form of freedom,
one which humans seek in vain.
Great Blue Herons painstakingly work their stork-like legs
among the skeletal root system of a dying Cyprus tree
which stands watch over a lonely river island
and fights for it’s life
against the constant erosion of the river’s powerful current.
Constellations emerge in the navy blue sky
as the Ospreys return to their nests,
which are precariously balanced upon depth markers and bridge supports.
And the shush of nightfall and the lap-lap of wake waves
sing their river babies a gently lullaby.
©Jennifer Tucker 2009
Uncle Rowan, the Shit Disturber
I’ll never forget
the year Mom hosted Easter
and was all in a tiff
that her dinner was ruined
by a new family member
named Rowan.
Mom blamed her sister
who just shrugged her shoulders
because she was married
and happily, mostly,
to the dapper old fellow
who impulsively asked
that she bring pumpkin pie for dessert.
So next year, grumbled Mom
can we expect turkey
with stuffing, not ham
when we come to your
house for this SPRING
holiday known as EASTER?!
Aunt Clara just shrugged
as she opened her satchel
to reveal a container
which she placed on the buffet…
a container full of cranberry sauce.
It goes well with ham
you should try it said Clara
as she handed out plates to the kids
whose eyes had gone wide
at this foodage debacle
which was sure to lead to distress.
It’s just wrong, said my mother
and you never were like this
before you got married to HIM!
Aw, get off it, said Rowan
you’ll have much more fun
if you simply just follow your heart,
and do what you like
and eat what you want
and stop bringing
the rest of us down.
Oh my god we all whispered,
this new one’s a trip and
of all of the old fogies
this dude is a rebel
a real shit disturber
I hope when we grow up
we'll wreak havoc and mayhem,
be a real super hero
like HIM!
©Jennifer Tucker 2010
Skipping Stones
The shoreline was rocky
and despite attempts to navigate carefully
her path was filled with missteps
and precarious footings,
until giving up, she paused,
taking in her surroundings.
The endless water
offered lullabies
and condolences for her waywardness
but no solutions, no promises.
Hanging her head
she gazed at her feet
and there lie a stone.
A lifetime searching might never have resulted
in a stone of such
perfect shape, perfect fit,
right in the palm of her hand.
Warmed from summer sunshine,
smooth against fingertips,
she rolled and worried it
until it’s grey exterior,
dappled with coastline memories
winked at her, teasing her with its
big ideas and concrete plans.
She was sorely tempted
to keep the stone in her pocket
hoping it would lend her guidance,
but sensing it’s need for freedom,
instead she sent it skipping,
sent it flying and skipping across the mirrored surface.
And the stone reveled in soaring,
soaring off into infinity,
watching reflections of the girl
grow faint in the rippling water
as it journeyed away;
A skipping stone
traveling at the speed of love.
©Jennifer Tucker 2010
Shipwreck
I've run aground and gotten stuck
stuck on land yet longing to sail
sail away and never look back
back to the wind on an ocean trail.
It seems to happen quite often these days
days spent working towards escape
escape out of reach and left with lost dreams
dreams cordoned off by crime-scene tape.
And yet I never give up hope
hope for a future that's sea breeze bright
bright with ideas and mischief and love
love that inspires my soul to take flight.
So I'll push off from this rocky spot
spot a new destination and make a plan
plan to avoid rough seas while I sail
sail into tomorrow as fast as I can.
©Jennifer Tucker 2010
Some Assembly Required
Meandering through
wild flower meadows and Death Valley deserts,
dancing to a melody
infused with serenity and muted anguish,
chasing a sunset
both conclusive and immortal,
they stopped for photos
of Joshua Trees,
arms stretched towards emerging stars in prayer
solitary yet linked
by invisible mind songs of destiny
and all the hasty compromises,
those missteps and regrets
with concessions made towards yearning,
were temporarily forgotten,
heart crimes thrown skyward,
returning as whispers of belonging
momentarily shared
between lovers.
©Jennifer Tucker 2010
A Flirtatious Skiff
You tempt me
with your sun baked smile
and promises of endless drifting,
amidst the swoosh, swoosh of waves‘
enchanting shades of blues and whites.
Kicking off my shoes
I run to you,
savoring the fiery sand and chilly surf,
liberating all ties to history,
jumping into your waiting arms
so broad and strong and willing
to sail away with me to paradise.
I lay back, safe within your firm embrace
all thoughts sent upwards
to mingle with sun and clouds and stars and moon,
surrendering to your direction,
submitting to your will,
content to simply blend with eternity.
©Jennifer Tucker 2010
Sonnet for a Fashionable Mule
After the sale we took one last tour
of the grey abandoned barn with empty stalls.
Smells of hay remain and memories endure
of Annie the mule and Father’s love calls
to her as he readied the wagon and hitch,
a late summer hay ride through orchards of green,
a wide brimmed white hat through which long ears would twitch.
Kids in the back tease and fidget between
parents with cameras and bags at the ready
to carry the apples approaching ahead
of Annie who plods so slow and so steady
and around her neck a bandana of red.
Turning to leave now, could it be? What is that?!
Hung on a nail, Annie’s wide brimmed white hat.
©Jennifer Tucker 2010
Imprints
We celebrated Autumn
with raked and burning leaves and wind-fall persimmons,
all sweatshirted with red cheeks and tangled auburn curls,
lying back on the cold, damp, ground,
arms and legs creating leaf litter angels
then pausing,
gazing skyward,
admiring the tree branch and sunlight mosaic,
absorbing the dappled warmth while
pressing downward,
sensing the Earth’s rotation,
and eavesdropping
on conversations between blades of grass.
Decades later,
sensations imprinted in my core,
triggered by
scuttling leaves and chimney smoke,
entice my soul to soar upward,
twirling with leaves on the breeze,
while my mind presses inward
creating memory-litter angels.
And meanwhile,
my heart mourns the passing of summer
and the end of those carefree years.
©Jennifer Tucker 2009, previously published in ViciousWriters.com magazine
River Road
Crossing the Clark Bridge, East into Illinois
fanned cables above, roiling Mississippi below
river traffic polka-dots: coal barges, fishing skiffs, garish floating casinos
Entering the river town of Alton, home of Wadlow, world’s tallest man
Fast Eddies Bonair, a roadhouse Utopia, temporarily distracts us with
sunshine, saxophone music, cheap eats, cold beer
Rambling down the river road, late afternoon shadows falling
on his 1957 Harley, often stopping for sad photographs of
decrepit abandoned factories and poverty stricken steel towns
Calling us back now, we listen to the river as it whispers its lessons, its echoes from history
of dream-seeking Illiniwek, of map-making French explorers
of noble tree-top Eagles and of the defiant cliff-top Piasa bird.
©Jennifer Tucker 2009, previously published in ViciousWriters.com magazine
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