It's Your Kiss

Hardly unlike the soft dew laden

morning rose petal

lips that touch mine

to the depths of my soul

fill me

coerce me to reach out

To touch the newness of love

to explore feelings running rampant

deep, deeper than thoughts

enlightening feelings of perfection

sure this will endure

                                                         

Sandra L. Hazley

                                                                  

                             

In the Shadows

In the corner of the room

there is a woman

she hovers

like a ghost

Smiling at her effect

on the two of us

We are never alone

she invades

even the smallest

of  privacies

She is obsolete

a byproduct of rejection

challenging obsession

as an anchor of the past

there is no validity

to her smile

She should disappear

as time passes

resembling mist

burned off by morning sun

Your eyes seeing her likeness

unwillingly follow – helpless

Sometimes my she-cat intervenes

with slanted green eyes

I light the way

to confrontation

She giggles

I hear her out loud

Perhaps I could ignore her

were she not thrown across

the stage at me

when least expected

Sandra L. Hazley

In the City

horns blowing

sirens screaming

helicopters

swooping up the wounded

daily affairs

of city life

filled with indigent

and homeless

cups rattling

nowhere to go

nowhere to hide

blemished lives

drinking booze

popping, shooting

snorting utopian dreams

trying to escape

Sandra L. Hazley

In Search for World Peach

I’ve been on the bus from hell

en route to DC on a snowy 10 degree day

with a rented Greyhound driver from California

who hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in years

and didn’t know how to get from Pittsburgh to DC

(we bought him a map at a rest stop)

Even before it started I protested the war on Iraq in NYC

in a march with no legal permits

lack of a permit couldn’t stop this movement

hundreds of thousands merged in feeder marches from every direction

it was exhilarating

millions around the world were protesting in unison

In my hometown on the day the war started, the police got ugly

pepper spraying into the eyes of peace people

who had the audacity to disagree with the United States government

They were children... our new generation taking a stand on what they believe

My rainbow peace flag is tattered and worn

It’s been through a war of its own

Wind ice sleet snow and it’s not over yet

The war is almost a year old now

was declared over many months ago

but our men and women are being killed daily

we never hear the real truth about Iraq casualties

and haven’t found any of those weapons of mass destruction

we heard so much about

It’s hard to believe the Bushites don’t get the picture

What are they missing

What color should we paint it in

Maybe RED

Yea, that’s it RED

BLOOD RED

 Sandra L. Hazley

I Am the Other Woman

I roll over and touch 

the side of the bed, where you lay

                                                  

                                                    when you stay

even empty, i sense your body

envision your dark haired contrast

on the white pillow case

where I bury my face, to catch your scent

                                                    before sleep

i accept your absence, from many days past

waiting in the wings of some great play

where the first act

                                                    never ends

                                                               

                          

 Sandra L. Hazley

Humane Society Dog

She’s walking me down Beech Avenue

past the stone houses.

The ones with the cultured mini gardens

you can’t pee on.

I’m not tugging, I’m not pulling.

CAN’T you see?

Look at me!  I’m an Akita!

I walk so proud.

I’m an Akita.

DON’T you see?

I’ll strut my stuff for you.

I can sit, I tell you!

Just ask me.  I’ll do it!

Help me out here,

the walls are closing in back there.

No space is big enough with locked gates.

I don’t deserve to be there,

I am innocent.

WON’T you see?

I need to be at your side,

walking, playing.

Your loyal servant.

Please, come to get me.

I am waiting.

I’ll be a good dog

YOU’LL SEE!

                   Sandra L. Hazley

High Heeled Shoes

High Heeled Shoes

when you walk

they go

            tap tap

                         tap tap

the men in heat

they know the sound

            of legs

                         in high heeled shoes

Sandy Hazley, 2005

Elizabeth

ELIZABETH’S BIRTHDAY

Birthdays that have come and gone

are secret treasures

of the heart

Revered memories of laughter and smiles

and tons of birthday cake

consumed with gusto

Today, you will remember forever

today is a celebration

of your life

Shared with us

the people who love you

Sandra L. Hazley

                                                       

                                                                                   

Down This Path

Down this path,

I have searched for my center balance

in places you would never believe.

I’ve traveled this path

for my own reasons, of my own accord,

making decisions at forks in the road

merely by the position of the sun.

Down this path,

I’ve become a student of love

and an expert on loss

as I notched my experiences

on the learning curve of life.

Down this path,

I’ve planted flowers, given birth

and released my parents to the earth.

I’ve soaked up sunshine, washed in rain

and written things no one will ever read.

Down this path,

I hope I have touched you as you walked by

and made a difference in your life,

as you have in mine

If you should follow me down this path,

it could be a dubious decision.

I know neither where it came from

nor where it leads.

Sandy Hazley, 2002

Deja 'Vu

I watched your hands

sliding gently over the rear fender of my car

and experienced such an intense deja’ vu

I remembered your hands sliding over fenders,

hoods, doors and me…

when we were together

I watched those hands

beautiful strong gentle hands

hands that felt so much more than anyone

now I wonder if your hands

much older but unchanged

would feel the difference in my body

feel the deserved wrinkles aging skin

sagging breasts and face

could you ever see me as the woman you had loved

changed only on the outside with the heart still intact

or would you remember me in a different way

maybe if you looked at my hands

you could have a deja’vu of your own

Sandy Hazley, 2005

Courtship at the Water Cooler or the Hit and Miss Reproduction of the Pigeon

little beady eyes skim over her curves

as she bends into the fountain floor

sucking up water

as it gurgles from the flowing spigot

he wants her

but, in her little pigeon mind

she just wants water

and flies away quenched

              he watches her departure

                     dumbfounded

he bends into the fountain floor

delicately pecking at the porcelain

amused by his reflection

in his little pigeon mind

he is planning the strategy

for his next great courtship

Sandy Hazley

          

Claustrophobia

Throat constricts

cutting off the last breath

In the hot smelly room

with closed doors

Too many bodies

mingling

cigarettes puffing

filling scarred lungs

Back to back

butt to butt

belly to belly

Beating our heads

against the walls

trying to make sense

of what is happening

on the outside

Windows open

swooshing in fresh air

people sucking

like fish out of water

Thinking the air is

exclusively theirs

oblivious to others

not wanting to share

Sweat still oozes

from the screaming pores

of the paranoid

Sandra L. Hazley

Civilization During the Iraq War

“We” are a civilized nation

I’ve heard that somewhere

I wonder what civilized really is

“We” are at war with a country

undeserving of  the wrath of our government

“We” are sitting back in our easy chairs

watching the relentless biased newscasts

“We” listen to the lies

the bullshit

the assumptions

the dead numbers going up daily

Along with our fallen soldiers,

who are our brothers and sisters,

fathers, mothers and children of Iraq  

are dying

It was said that “We”

are so fortunate to get our dead bodies back

packaged nicely in wooden boxes

while “They”

are scavenging for body parts

so they can mourn their loved ones

“We” are the civilized ones

“We” are the super power

“We” can rule the world

“We” are working on it

One oil producing country at a time

Sandra L. Hazley                                                                          

City Poet

Upon the death of the man

the poets weep

for the hip hop beat

of  Michael Christian Robinson’s

soul filled life

that will never be heard in this city again

Though the destiny

of his verbiage is uncertain

the survivors press on

spouting words

with no refrain, no excuses

Sandra L. Hazley

Chasing Turkeys in Ronovo

 

Those wild turkeys never knew what hit themwhen I leapt from the car

squeezing off shot after shot with the Minolta

Little turkey heads going every which way

silently, through luscious fern cover

disappearing in seconds

only to cautiously sneak back reuniting family

A sentry crows raucous call splits the quiet

when we walk down roads where

deer watch with timid interest

so happy to be in the woods

until you mention the bear, that is

Sandy Hazley 

Bad News

you stood across the room

at the top of the stairs

face ragged weeping

i asked what was wrong

you said “my mother passed

in the night”

the words hung in the air between us

it took an eternity to reach you

to embrace your pain.

                                                                                   

Sandra L. Hazley

Al-Qaida

Al-Qaida – 9/11

Al-Qaida – 9/11

9/11 – Al-Qaida – 9/11

9/11 – Al-Qaida – Hussein

Hussein – Al-Qaida – 9/11

9/11 – Al-Qaida – Hussein

Hussein – 9/11

Hussein – 9/11

Every speech

Every talk

Every lie, every lie

Tell the children of Iraq how you feel Mr. Bush

 Sandra L. Hazley

Across the Border

French, Italian, Arabic, Chinese

I can’t understand a word

in this melting pot of faces

People shoving like Manhattan

at rush hour

buying it all to stretch

the American dollar

but... they’ve abandoned the homeless

who sleep on business doorsteps

We are like voyeurs

taken by the swirl of skin color

shapes of eyes, noses, lips

chubby children with high cheek bones

white teeth smiles and silken black hair

run over our feet on their quest

for swings and slides

Wide assed women walk by

dreaming prophetic dreams

of brown eyed off-spring

swinging hips with a Marley beat

and the beautiful lady under the arches

says “We are all one People”

in a heavy Jamaican accent

Congested trails marked for safety

ignored by free wheeling dogs

on the run by the beach

crash into cyclists

sending them tumbling

like Japanese acrobats

Oblivious to the scene

Canada geese

honk out their national anthem

escaping south to Florida

like the natives in Mercedes

                                                                                   

Sandra L. Hazley              

On the Street

A homeless man flashes me a toothy smile

It’s early in the morning

There are 20’s in my wallet

I contemplate giving a 20 to this man

How he would use it?

Can I do it?

He is hungry.

I’m beginning to liken homeless men to stray cats

 Multiplying in the city

Showing up on doorsteps

Where someone will take notice

Wanting a touch or a pat on the head

But mostly wishing for breakfast

Sandy Hazley

April 6, 2013

Cat

there is this cat

i know it is my grandmother’s

reincarnate

she watches me

everywhere i go

she is blind in one eye

so was my grandmother

bitten by a dog no less

i didn’t always have this cat

she came to me on the street

starving

i fed her

wouldn’t you?

then i noticed the resemblance

to my grandmother

she yells at me

and my partner is allergic

                                                          Sandra L. Hazley