Tree Poem

Judy writes of a poet who posted a poem every day on a tre to catch the attention of passersby, who might or might not otherwise read poems. Blogs are kind of like that too, though probably most of the people who come to poetry blogs do read and write poems. I feel challenged, fragile, pulled very tight between real blessings and so much wrong in smaller and larger world. So from that position, what d I want t post on my "tree"?


Remember

One foot in front of the other,
when best efforts fail.
One foot in front of the other.
when love fails to heal,
one foot in front of the other.,
when prayers ring empty,
one foot in front of the other.
when protection fails,
one foot in front of the other,
when fear clouds reason,
one foot in front of the other,
no matter what demons,
one foot in front of the other.

Victoria Hendricks
June 30, 2010

Imagine prompt for Writers' Island

Perfect Empathy

Imagine perfect empathy.
I feel you. You feel me.
Margins fade. Egos recede.
Every life counts the same.
No number one No elect.
No justification. No meanness.
No outcasts. No losers..
Every life counts the same.
Margins fade, Egos recede.
I feel you. You feel me.
Imagine perfect empathy. .

Victoria Hendricks
June 26, 2011

Poems about the oil spill

Longest Day


I look to the sky, bleached blue
glare, damaged past forgiveness,
parching, unremitting, draining heat,
no breeze, no relief, longest day
I look to the sky and feel death
breathing car exhaust and bitterness
into my open eyes. The end has begun.


Victoria Hendricks
June 21, 2010

Too Late?


Carbon based life
drowns in excess.
Waste heats up.
Glacial ice melts.
We obsess, sad,
mad, nervous,guilty.
Self imposed circle
of greed chokes
hope, blackens sea.
Sorrow comes easy.
Choice is despair or
attempted repair.
Too late for birthdays?

Victoria Hendricks
June 23, 2010

I struggle (big tent prompt)

I struggle to write about family. Too complex, close to the bone, mixed. Did I raise a good family? Did I do my best? Does that even matter? What will happen to my daughters, their children? What choices will they make, what impact? how much of that is my responsibility and how much can I still change? Family is so vital, so intense, so mixed. I need it so much - need my daughters to be strong and ethical and good - so I can know I succeeded and so I can feel their love and strength flowing back at me. Classic attachment. I know that. Spiritually I know how to practice detaching, letting the strings out, loving without conditions. I struggle to write about family because I resent the rightness of detaching. I want to be able to want what I want in this area and get it. I just want us all to love each other and be good people and be OK, and I know family is never that simple.

Never Simple

Family is never simple,
crucible of survival
attachment essential,
mouth to nipple, breath
synchronized,children
fed first,joy in present
hope for future. Impossible
to detach completely when
they are grown, to give
them back to the universe,
to release judgement of
my essence, my life, my soul
dependent on their choices.
Family is never simple.


Victoria Hendricks
June 25, 2010

Too Late? From Wordle from We Write Poems

Too Late?

Carbon based life
drowns in excess.
Waste heats up,
glacial ice melts.
We obsess, sad,
mad, nervous,
Self imposed circle
of greed chokes
hope, blackens sea.
Sorrow comes easy.
Choice is despair or
attempt at repair.
Is it too late for birthdays?

Victoria Hendricks
June 23, 2010

Brushed Down

Brushed Down


Mama brushed my hair
to create her image of
well cared for, properly
groomed, perfect little girl.
Didn't matter that it hurt,
that I was happier with
loose pony tail down my
back crooked without
added bows and butterflies.
Mama brushed her pride
when she brushed my hair

Victoria Hendricks
June 9, 2010

For Big Tent - If I Would

I Would if I Would

I would if I would
spend a season alone,
in a cabin on an island,
simple food delivered
once a week, no words
spoken, just words written
and sleep, long walks,
no clock, no need for me.
I would if I would spend
a season alone. I will not.

Victoria Hendricks
June 3, 2010

Virtue Three, Courage

Courage

Right action
in grip of
icy terror.

Victoria Hendricks
June 2, 2010

My Office Door

My Office Door

Ordinary, seventies style
paneled wood door ,copper
tone knob, upside down
key hole second nature
after twenty four years.
You open on serenity,
familiar crystals, texts,
water color of quilt with
needle and thread still
attached, worn teak and
leather, my calmest self.
You close on mirrored pain,
arguments resolved, skills
mastered, losses survived,
secrets kept, transformations,
memories, goals, expectations,
safety of professional role.
Trick is choosing who to be,
when I hand over the key.

Victoria Hendricks
June 1, 2010

Virtue Poem Two - Wisdom

Wisdom

Innocence expects
right action to result
in happy outcome.
Wisdom knows better,
does right anyway.

Victoria Hendricks
June 1, 2010