No drama in life
Unless you eat endlessly
Acid persimmons. 

     *  *  *

Walking Wounded tramp
Through life’s forest Yeti-like
Thrilled they have survived.

     *  *  *

When fragile larkspur
Bloom, they like where they’re planted.
Do the same for friends.

     *  *  *

Fix what you can fix.
Weave with joy a spider’s web.
Call it Private Fate.

     *  *  *

Pretend yours is an
Antic Spirit overfilled,
Breaking all records.

     *  *  *

When horror strikes you
In your bad dreams, try this trick.
Escape! Walk backward.

Shimmy under the covers, into the fresh
White sheets,
reminders of backyard lines with sails
Taking in pure sunshine.

Position each body part In the mold meant only for it,
No other.

Breathe, regular as a tick after a tock,
Losing yourself in its regularity.

But for heaven’s sake don’t think of sleep.
That destroys the charm
Drives it away.

Conjure up colors, starbursts and elfin
Creatures shashaying through
Magic, shady glens
Pink unicorns in tow.
Give them a chance to do their stuff.

Off to the Faire with sack butt, crumhorn and
Lute.
Merry Men
Lusty Wenches
Mighty Steads
Jousting Lancers
Banners galore.

Medieval mannerisms
Played out against a tapestry
Rich with romance.

Then, slowly,
Quiver by quiver,
Close your eyes
Knowing this fantasy
Will busy your brain
The whole night long.

You will dance,
You will frolic,

You will dream,

But best of all,

You will sleep.

Charlene James-Duguid
Amissville, Virginia 

Do I want to be writing a poem at 3 a.m.?
No.
Do I have to write on, now, in mid night?
Yes,
Or I’ll not sleep till dawn.

So if I search for the adjective that fits a noun and verb,
Scare up an adverb,
Dangle a participle  just right,
Sleep will come.

If in that quest I stumble on a
Profound truth,
Shocking discovery,
Amazing insight,
I’m better off then with a dozen winks.

Then again I know the dusk light
Will bring more wrinkles,
Pronounced bags under each eye,
And the realization
This little episode hasn’t been much fun.

Yet this is how
Sleeplessness finds me,
Concocting an empire of words on paper,
Ginning up a universe.

Silly thing,
Here I am, abed, awake,

While all the time I’d rather be dancing.

Charlene James-Duguid
Amissville, Virginia 

If only the storms stayed outside,
Raged over islands and tropical trees,
Raining torrentially
Miles from me
While my roof holds tight.

Instead it fractures my heart,
Tosses my spirit with a strength
That throws me off my feet
Destroys any sense of equilibrium.

Balance exists no more
Logic flees my home
Pressing me first against a crumbling wall
Then
Threatening I will become a wayward kite.

Calm escapes
My nerves go to their edge
Pleas, nor prayers remedy my state.
The barometer rules.

Charlene James-Duguid
Amissville, Virginia 

I want a name like Ashbery
And translators’ skills in three languages;
French, Spanish, Polish.

Oh, on the way, throw in a little Japanese.

But since I don’t, I’m stuck ,
Without
A job, means of support,
Let alone a livelihood.

Stop it, Woman,
Right now, backtrack
In your singular tongue.

Let 

“Live li hood ” grab hold,
Send you soaring
With the joy of sounds.

That’s where his life has led
And where yours must follow.

Know all sides of you
Then share the “kitchen words”,
Sweeping loses far away
For all who wish to listen. 

Charlene James-Duguid
Amissville, Virginia 

The moon speaks to me.
Loud and clear, each beam sends down
Promises, fine gifts.

Always, the thick, dense fog,
Perpetual, never rolling in
Always here,
Clouding out the story.
The Devil in the Dark.

A Nightmare,
One toss, two turns
In a Craven-colored universe.
Seek a way out, fly up,
Or fall down.

“Dummy,
Coming Out of Sleep
Is not the answer.
Solve the fear warp
With ingenuity.”

‘It’s a movie, You, Fool.
Revise the screenplay,
Focus on the story board.
Sign a great, British actor,
To play the lead.”

“Keep the best elements
And toss the rest.”

“Dream, Woman, Dream.”

Charlene James-Duguid
Amissville, Virginia 

Too profound for a housewife making everyday shopping trips
Or visiting the bank to cash a check.
Too memorable to ask, “What was your name, say again?”

It rolled off her tongue
And into my brain
Reserving a permanent place in my thoughts.

She might have been a British detective,
A member of the House of Lords
Or Dame Commander of The Empire.

Her name rings with full authority
Pushing aside any thought of the
Commonplace.

Capable of great compassion
A name that gave weight to every emotion,
Sorrow, joy, longing, elation.
These she held at the ready
With her commanding presence.

Distinctly, without hesitation
all she needs say is her name.
The Ordinary evaporates.

“Hello,
I’m Charlotte Templeton.“

Charlene James-Duguid
Amissville, Virginia