Go

Go

by: Ruth Mostrales

 

I wish that I could go

As far as my eyes can see,

I wish that I could flow

Like a teardrop to the sea.

 

Like a bird that has learned to fly

Who finds answers to her whys,

Like a fish that has found its gills

To explore the sandy hills.

 

I may not know what the eagles know

Or go where the rivers flow,

But I’ve got love to show the way

To go where my heart should go.#

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Six Lights

Six Lights

 

 

Two lights

Floating in the night

At intervals shut

And open

a feline soul

 

Like bulbs glowing and

Gnarling at the sight

Of a rat escaping

From inside

a paw.

 

Four lights

Gliding in the night

Lost from each

Other, as they

Gape at a

hole.

 

Six lights

Closing for the

Night, letting

The morrow be

The judge of

us all.

Ruth Mostrales, April 2009
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Spelling

Spelling

Spell the word “FRIEND”
With an -I- then an -E-.
A friend is a treasure
For you and for me.

Spell “recEIve” this way,
And always remember —
That our friendship is a gift
From our Maker.

Let’s keep our little secret
In the heart, where its
sweeter; and write it down
With love, and
Not letters!

 

Ruth Mostrales, April 2009

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Sweet Tooth

sugar sprinkled on a grassy terrain  (shimmering

with the rays of the caramelized sun after the rain)

frolics with the raisin pebbles along a cola pond,

or a puddle of chocolate ripples. 

The cottony candy clouds after the cry

look down to adore them toppings on the earthen vessel.

 

some birds chatter “sweet, sweet”,

calling to the lollipop flowers icing the hedge,

the marshmallow buds, and jellybean seeds inside them. 

tootsie roll worms have emerged from the cake,

joining in the sweet salad of fun after the rain.

 

a gummy spider leaves his spout

where honey flows freely from the brownie ground.

he watches a cherry red bug speed by in haste

with its cookie wheels turning, homeward bound, hugging

a peanut brittle path, and splashing the lozenge stones

with a dose of soda fizz.

 

the toffee mountain dotted with candy cane trees, serene.

A syrup of cocoa flows like melted ice cream on its side,

causing an avalanche of fudge down, down

where the blender river makes a chocolate shake. 

A kid watches  by and tries to imagine

all the sweets in the palm of his hand. 

He shakes his head for his tooth began to ache.

 

 

Ruth Mostrales

December 2008

Tunnel

Pardon me for lack of clarity

The muses are warring muses

In my head the words and thoughts

Of words, ambigulence

 

I was snatched from my heaven, haven

I was orphaned by my pen-recourse

My companion solitude was taken

While I stand in situation precardverse

 

Pardon me if I seem to whine

Forgive the braying tongue of mine

I am trying to write this treatise here

While the miners do their bomblasting near

 

by:  Ruth Mostrales, December 2008

Heaven

I watched from the window

The bleeding anthuriums

The shadows of cottons on the hills

The frothless water and the river rocks crackle

The lizard who’s given up its limb

 

The limping walking stick

The blades of shrubs

The merciful trees to the nests

I watched the sun play around the yard

As schoolchildren pass by with leisurely haste

 

The playful footsteps of the sunbeam in the house

The holes where the rats had once been

The crocheted table tops

The cracked flower pots

And the banter of the teapot a-bubbling

 

I sit where my Granny used to rest near the window

I can hear her sweet words in my ear

She’s gone to a place where it’s always sunny

But for now my heaven is here.

 

By:  Ruth Mostrales, November 2008

He Left The Key Again

If I can grow two hands that can reach the glass jar
Where my delightful provisions he keeps;
I shall stretch their full length and end my tribulation
Of rumbling stomach aches.
Just this morning he was rushing, he said he was late
And he picked up the coins not the keys;
I have a clear premonition he will curse his condition
Once he knew that again he’s remiss.

It is late, and I’m waiting alone, to be fed
But I know I shall wait a little more;
For though I have heard his beat-up Volkswagen
Arrive, oh my! He can’t open the door!
If I grew five fingers along with each hand,
I shall reach for the knob to make him happy;
But until then I shall wait till he finds a clever way
To enter and end our agony.

“Spotty,” Benny says and I say, “I’m hungry!”
But to him it sounded like, “Meow!”
“I’m here,” cries Benny, which to me was like, “Help me!”
How I wish I had the ___ to know how.
I was dreading the next step that he usually took,
For certainly this ain’t the first time
I shall wait at the terrace, wish him luck with arthritis
As he laboriously executes the climb.

(c) Ruth Mostrales