On Trial

“She dared to show her throat

and got it slit,”

The lawyer for defense

solemnly remarked.

“The whore was asking

to be killed.

“My client was a

victim of seduction.

“Would you really take

the words of this dumb slut?”

The jury nodded

in agreement.

An older man,

the prosecutor, stood.

He looked into the jury

choosing his words carefully.

“The slut was seven…”

He said and then sat down.

Five-Minute Poem

I wanted to do an exercise seeing how much of a poem I could write in five minutes.  Maybe we could all try it and get a theme going? ;-)

Light slow dances
with the ground.
Wind cuts in,
strikes fast
and dips.
Swing then waltz,
kissing grass blades
on their necks.
The earth is coy,
wants more before
a drought sets in.
But light and wind
have took their toll
leaving cracks through
what was whole.

Here & Now

Here and now,
while gone and later.
Skin, strong bones
give way to dust.

Brave, bold eyes
soon hollow sockets
without gaze or
wonderment.

I feel my cartilage
retract. Hairline
pulling back
to skull.

The essence
and the body
now some marker
on an unkempt lawn.

I Know Where Home Is

I know where home is

though I haven’t seen it

for some time.

I know where home is

and it’s waiting

out of reach.

I know where home is;

I imagine when I

close my eyes.

I know where home is

and I feel its essence

teasing me.

I know where home is

do you suppose there is

such a place, Toto?

I know where home is

it's not a place you can

get to by a boat or a train

I know where home is,

beyond the moon,

beyond the rain.

I know where home is

it’s far,

far away.

I know where home is,

if only I could

take you there...

Small Time Bloggin'

There's something quaint about a small blog, isn't there?  One where you can interact with the author.  I generally don't advertise my blog for that reason.  The people that merely come across it are the best sort.  So don't go tellin' no one.

Nice Old Spice can stay our little secret ;-)

The Wise

The wise will realize

it isn’t what we’ve seen

or even done in life

that matters but rather

the feelings we’ve felt

and made in others.

Novel Revamp

Ben Ditmars' novel, Gnomes of Coyûl is now Available on Amazon for Kindle and Print.

Hello once more my Spicers and Spicettes.  I've been working on a Summer project that I just recently finished.  I wanted to revamp a novel, Gnomes of Coyûl I put on Kindle last year.  And revamp it I did: new cover, more appealing format, the works.  The best part is, all of this greatness, is also available on paperback.

Do you own a Kindle?  Then this your place!

Do you desire a more timeless paperback?  Then click right here!

As always, if this post is lost in the ether of rantings, Witherspork, etc. you can find these same links underneath the Books tab above.  Also, what book is complete without a Twitter feed?  And a jolly good Facebook?

For Ron

They strung him up for being sick.

One took a club and smashed his head.

The rest joined in

ripped limb from limb.

His family watched

now destitute

from paying bills

and bankruptcy.

I’d like to help

but feel afraid.

The crowd yells DIE

I whisper LIVE.

*****

Moderator: But congressman, are you saying that society should just let him die?
(Tea Party crowd screams YES!)

Three Poems

I've wrote these poems over the past couple weeks but haven't posted them.  They're more somber than normal.  But don't be alarmed, I'm still very happy :-)  See.  I smiled.

Truth

The truth is that

You never liked me.

Oh, you said you did,

Pretended well enough.

But I could always tell

A liar when I saw one.

And that’s just what you are;

Not nice; not sparing of

My feelings.  Just cold.

A bitch without remorse.

Marionette

There’s little consolation

when your hard work doesn’t pay,

and all that you put in stays put

in rigid forms, faint outlines

of desire; puppet shows

played with your heart

on strings. The puppet master

drunk and weaving, somewhere else

and crying out much like the wooden

figure he is holding.

A Legend

I was never legendary

though I tried to be

and failed.  I was at most

a sidekick, supporting actor

to a larger role I couldn’t fill.

I watched others do great deeds

and envied them.  But I could not

supplant them.  Danger fueled my heart

but froze my arms and legs.

Ten Years

                                        I had never thought                I may                  I still shiver

                                       of war              until                have gone           but accept

                                      the                     day               to bed that          there's hate

                                       ten years ago in class             that night            beyond what

                                                        the towers            more peaceful      I can hope to

                                                         collapsed             if I hadn't             heal or reason

                                                            and fire             known how          with. If just to

                                                              rained.            men could be.     catch a wink.

                            

                     

Plumbing

I poured summer down the drain,

The last of it; the end of it.

Sunrays splashed on flowerbeds,

Spiraling with fresh mowed grass

Into the vortex of another year.

I saw the faucet trickle out

A few fake spiders and a

Lit-up pumpkin.  The cycle

Had begun again.

I thought of this poem whilst pouring some long flat, unfinished beer down the drain.  It was Summer Ale from Sam Adams and likely the last I will have of it until next year, seeing as how it's seasonal.  So, I got the idea of actually pouring summer down the drain from that. As you can read, I'm not very good at these poetry explanation things, but I thought I'd give it a try.

A Sonnet for Luna Lovegood

I saw you reading something upside down

In your compartment, wand behind your ear;

Corks strung in a necklace led me to drown

Within your eyes, blond hair, a new frontier.

We saw thestrals flying unlike others

Their shrill, strange yells so like our beating hearts

Sharing memories and pains together

As ones who had their families ripped apart.

Fighting side by side in more than battle

We were friends, almost lovers in a way

But your world and soul I could not rattle

And watched as you wore yellow on your wedding day.

You were beautiful, a dirty blonde sun

Eclipsed by your new husband, what can’t be undone.

Trending *Now*

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Hurry up, #stepitup

Feed the hungry;

Roof the homeless;

Empty your backpockets

And really help someone.

Gnomes, Gnomes, Gnomes by Whitney Taylor

My friend Whitney, who blogs at Witty Whit's and is always a supportive and truly great wrote a wonderful fan poem for my novel Gnomes of Coyûl.  I'd like to share it with you all here.

Ben made gnomes

Gnomes gnomes gnomes

How I love them gnomes

Cute little men in beards, tall hats, and coats

And women in their cute hats and dresses

Living in the beauty of nature

How small they are and size up to a tree

The trees stand like towering giants

Through the four seasons this is their home

They are quite like us you see

They love, fight, and dream

Gnomes gnomes gnomes

How I like how it sounds on my tongue

Real as you imagine them to be

A Sonnet for Colin Creevey

I've sat on this poem for a few days now, unsure if it's ready.  It's the culmination of ideas I've had for a long time about how heroic Colin Creevey truly was throughout the Harry Potter books.  His sheer, unrelenting loyalty to Harry, just struck me; from a little boy snapping pictures, standing up for him against much older wizards, to in the end dying for him, all the while persecuted with his brother Dennis under Voldemort's regime for being Muggle-born.  Let me know what you think...


He gave it all for the man he adored,

and idolized for years in magic school.

Put down his camera, picked up the sword

to die outmatched by all but heart in duel.

Muggle-born, mudblood cast out his sixth year

coming back to fight pureblood mania

threatening his young brother, causing fear;

persistent, rampant xenophobia.

Petrified by snake but never frightened,

always standing with the good and bravest,

those thought selfless, true and most enlightened;

he proved himself an equal to the rest.

If there is a God he must know above
that Colin Creevey lived and died for love.

Artemis & I

I entered the following poem in a Greek Gods poetry contest.  The particular goddess they wanted wrote about was Artemis so I gave it a shot.

Looking back I realize you were Artemis

Obsessed with wild animals, the hunt and moon.

A lonely river god could never tame

Or see past your disguise.

Actaeon had suffered for a glance as I,

Orion and the rest would fall,

Seeking to undo a fabled chastity

Beyond the limits of your love.

Your jealous wrath had struck me dumb

Cut out my tongue, reduced a

Once proud stream to tears

And dammed the flow.