Catch and Release

iron cuff eyes clinging to uniform

curtails weigh anchor on cruise line confusion.

confrontations of emotional upset commence once battleships sink.

ornamental gratitude decorates hungry hearts breathing

vitality suffocates in doberman demands.

Grass roots honesty spews forth from innocence,

strip lotus nectar from sticky cookie jar fists.

exhausted earth turned servant caves in to pastry cravings

contenders playing 18 questions

asked by kitten curiosity sequential numbers forgotten

as sunshine day dreamers wrap infant arms around poltergeist fathers.

plead Poseidon for safe return from salty coconut travels across the mango flavored ocean.

were i a dolphin, i would loose stranded sailors from deep sea grips

vengeance splits storm protected decks

were i a ship i would hold tight to the nails

hammer together the pieces of vessel i call family

i am instead a raging tidal wave come to crash upon splintered trust and unconditional love.

i am a treasure chest.

unleash your padlocked soul give charitably the wealth of your qi, your love, your fantasies...

please, captain, on this day... share with me

© Sarah Bordeau-Rigertink, 2013

The 'Great Western' riding a tidal wave
Painting by Joseph Walter
from Wikimedia Commons

After Show Aches

The cold chokes my throat igniting immunity with energy warmer than an oven of convection.

Vibrations still rattle rocked ribs, repeating rhythms, pulsing through fingertips; I am alert with agreeable adrenaline observations.

Playing stuck songs backwards and forwards, mandala hemispheres chatter with excited interpretations.

Laying my head upon thumping shoulders I shimmy in chilly acceleration.

Driving back to padded cage with pulsing hips still crying out for ambulation,

I mentally marvel at composition that continues to expose a mass to an accumulation of acculturation.

Still skipping I step into a wet jungle heat, rinsing sweat and feeling the saturation

of sweet streaming rivulets; oxygenation creating the perfect negative ionic sedation.

Stretching, sleepy articulations crack, pop, and snapple, as muscles create compositions out of yogi positions;

releasing restricted tensions, limbs curve in evolutionary arches of emancipating elevation.

Excited for ethereal fantasies, equilibrium turns exhausted orientation into disorganization.

Restful slumber permits the reclamation of youthful rejuvenation,

as peaceful dreams dance wildly to harmonious beats of ecstatic revelation.

© Sarah Bordeau-Rigertink, 2013

Dancing Moghul women. From Auguste Racinet's Le Costume Historique, originally published in France between 1876 and 1888.
from Wikimedia Images; in the public domain

Ancient Conversations

The river of our tongues has dried to cracked earth.  

Too long since wear, crawfish pronunciations,

and bullfrog syllables are shells and lumps of sand now.

Ē kapuna, make wai ‘ia au.

I am thirsty for the metaphors of our grandmothers,

their every breath a prayer for peace and unchecked giving,

and receiving was as easy as a nap with a pole in my hand on a warm day.

I crave the torrents from times when women were gardens

and there was only one table to put a vase on.

Yet in place of flowers, homework, and electronic debris,

bountiful food prepared with god in mind was served

to strangers passing through the channel.

© Sarah Bordeau-Rigterink, 2012

Hawaiians eating poi, c. 1896
Photo by Strohmeyer & Wyman
From Wikimedia Commons/Library of Congress