Author Archives: jftoomey

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About jftoomey

I'm many things, among which is a linguist, a therapist, a scientist, a business owner, a student, a traveller, a dreamer, a poet, a friend, a dog lover, and I'm sure some other things that I'd rather not mention here.

Powerless

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Aroused,
To pricked-ear
Attention

Prone

Basking unaware

In the reflection of
These sturdy, old
Horse-hair-plastered
Bedroom walls’

Vanilla light

Helios’ rising

Cheerily
Unapologetic

Towing mercilessly
His dawning dissonant
Screeching radiance

High and wide
East to west, north to south
Bubbling brilliantly on
The breaking day’s
Golden horizon
Melting
Night’s indigo darkness
Into brighter hues of
Azure blue

Silently
He trumpets
His intrusive morning jeer

Wakening, uninvited
The midnight dreamer
From sound and peaceful pause

Grumpily

Thoughts gather
Like looming
Swirling clusters, of leaden-grey
Milky white winter clouds

Pregnant with ice
With cryptocrystalline
Flakes of unfallen snow

The season enduring in spirit

Well
and Beyond
My resign’ed
Flaccid reception
of December’s intrusive
Annual resurrection

Blaming heaven
and Earth
For this heralding
AM intruder
I wonder:
Just
How many other
People
Circumstances and
Celestial bodies

Unable to harness, I’ll be

On this forever
So long and
Longed-for
April morn’s
Luminescing

eugenfrédéricdaniel

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It’s the essence
of passion:
the drive within
creative expression
that seduces me

into quivering
states of leaking flaccid ineptitude

within this mental posture
of artist’s mind

neither age,
nor logic,
nor formlessness

holds paralytic
the import
of so cherished
the left-brain world’s:
linear time,
blood-letting competition,
herculean feats of self-imposed deadlines,
and
stuff-gathering

where beating down
a greedily awaiting
death’s door
does not do

and our lives are ours
to live
with no rule,
but
to love one another’s creation

Contentment’s Guest

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Like a child
being pushed
for the first time
on a swing
falling up and back and out
into space
gulping at cool air

caught

between screams of terror
and chortling delight

diaphragm drawn

taut

pushing heart and lungs
forth
ever closer to surging

from pallid lips
pursed
with anguished anticipation
of unknowable ends
to anxious dreams

He falls back to earth
contented
to regain
reassuring reconnection
with familiar
maternal
joyous, laughing
loving arms
and womb-like
repositioning
to gravity’s terrestrial pull

Joy is
contentment’s
welcomed, beloved guest
simply a lodger
lingering longer
than expected

Spring

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Rousing from sleep

I know not
what
ever
may come

This day
yet known
to none

Pushing me back
Like a child on a swing
Into free falling
A world of anxious dreams

Awakening

I understand
Within

Acceptance

of all
that simply is

Lies low the license

To live
Spontaneously

With abandon:
Freedom from
Stunted
Spurious and cowering
Segregated Self

I am lured
Outward from my ursidae den
By optimistic
Curiosity
Into the dawning season

With greater expectation
From living out loud

Like the unmistakable
Soothing rumble
Of a distant spring thunder

añoranza

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noche estrellada
me quedo
solo
en este lugar

soñando

suspendido

conjurando
el amado
hasta ya
desconocido
espíritu dulce
varonil

pestañas largas
rizadas, negras
ojos oscuros tanto,
como el instante
poco antes
del amanecer

piel dorada
de brazos, manos fuertes
suaves, brillantes
llenos de una sensualidad
a estallar
labios tiernos
hambrientos
listos
a agotar
húmedos alientos
cálidos de pasión

desde dos pechos
desnudos
retorcidos por deseo
se oy’ el ritmo puntuado
golpeando
musical
latidos caóticos
de corazones
añorando
toda
posibilidad

yo te busco
amado mío
en el crepúsculo
matinal
hasta ya
desconocido
espíritu dulce
varonil

En Guarde! Tilting at Waves

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the wafting familiar delicious of
baking
bitter-sweet, spicy
hot
apple pie
its bubbling
sugary cinnamon ambrosial whisper
seduces
quivering nostrils
with promises of savory success
drawing
wearily closer
to the longed-for
idyllic destination
momentum’s stride
gaining pace

impetuous
unsolicited
seditious second thoughts!
burst upon the wisdom
of such driven
fugacious
focus
the squeezing
weight of doubt
delivers life
to the buyer’s remorse of achievement
scintillating hubris
collapses
to a halt
once blinding passion
for this punctuated pursuit
now overshadowed
by fear of error…

mustering motivation
repelling
equivocation
rekindling
intention’s flame
I move
stealth-fully
toward the gold
like Scheherazade’s
one thousand
and one tales
The King
stays the execution
sparing the life
of a yet, another dream
for one more
setting sun

The Holidays

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High-pitched
xylophonic
zing
Core-throbbing
booming
bong

Ear-piercing
thunderous
vroom
Slam-banging
percussive
pop

Slide whistle’s
slippery pitch
Dizzying
digits
aligning cymbals
jackpot: I’m rich!

Head whirling
a dervish’s
swoop
Mind’s wily eye
a buzzing
kazoo

Swirling funnel
of blinding snow
incapable of fixating
on familiar ground,
Just enough
to slow…
all that clamor!
down

Gobbled
by thanksgiving
Vanquished
by time…too little
while options
abound

Flummoxed
by fogginess
while christmas draws near
a good month
to endure
till happy new year

Life
suspended
in a Monet masterpiece,
at nose-length,
focus fuddled
perspective lost

Blurred…
by electrifying a
sparkling surge of
yuletide
chaos

Shark Attack, or Early Morning Angst

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Soaring
higher than the flock,
in formation
leading
a lone plover
dives
near head-on
into deserted
a steely coast guard beach

Silently surveying
ominous the roar
an unforgiving sea’s violent crash,
incessant the pounding spray:
tarnished silver undulations
breach the safety
of unsuspecting
hatchling nests

Lower
than my ankles
buried deep
beneath the silt-rich sludge
crisp, lifeless sea grass
revived
to its natural brown rubbery state
with the onrush of inundation

Cold
veiny-grey tides
deepen the shifting crevice:
ocean-river,
sandbars
carved by winter’s icy fury

Sealife
invisible to the eye
daring to rear
a kind and
curious canine countenence
beyond the breaking
watery surface
seeking playmates,
a game of fetch perhaps?

Blood-curdling silence,
screeching for succor
in barely
an audible contrabass gulping pitch
unable to relay his plight
to deaf, or worse,
apparently indifferent
shore-bound
human friends

Underneath,
diamond-sharp
dents de la mer
nip
at soft, gentle
foot-like flippers
convulsing
in jagged crimson jets:
the ruby tide beckons
swarming
lifeless orbs
dark as pitch
to the bloody feast