Last Sunset - 2011

Sun sinks red into
silver Rio Grande.
Across the border
in Mexico dogs bark.
Children laugh, cry.
Cann't help but wonder
how many meals they
could eat for the price
of scopes, binoculars,
cameras, bird books
on the platform on
our side of the border.
Mexican smoke stings
my eyes, blurs vision
of Border Patrol turret.

Journey

Fat crescent
bigger boat
than last night
sails west
toward tomorrow.
What will it carry?
Who will arrive
on dawn's shore?
I pray safe journey
for you if not for me.

Rededication

Give yourself to love
if love is what you're after.

Easier said than done.
I give in, give myself
to relaxation, obligation,
worry, anger,compulsion,
enjoyment, despair, hope.

Each time, I try again
to give myself to love
because love is what I'm after.

Last Night

Tomorrow I will pack up
the mennorahs, each to
it's own resting spot,
velvet box, high shelf.
They brought the light.
My job now to be a light.

Seventh Night

Outpouring of light
energizes. Abundance
feeds laughter as family
shares golden tangerines,
juice sweet on our tongues.
For tonight, tonight is
just exactly enough.

Sixth Night

Kitchen at sunset
smells of curry
Mennorah light
Dances, flickers.
Faces fade in
and out of focus.
Only two more nights
to watch the light
increase. I need more.

Fifth Night

Christmas Eve
Carolers in coats
lift voices against
cold rain. Mennorah
light reminds me
I get to define
my own miracles.
This moment will do.

Fourth Night

Profusion of light
glows from house
illuminating grey
evening. The leaves
have all fallen.
Our beloved dead
glow in memory still.
We miss each one.

Third Night

Bright afternoon,
Sun in treetops,
Hand in hand
we walk familiar
wood. I would walk
another decade or
two of winter nights
with you. So much
we know. So much
to learn still.
Sunset flares pink
brignt afternoon
lights tomorrow.

Second Night

Second night
rain falls cold
family gathers warm
Shortest day
Longest night
I sit up late
listen as water
enters earth
I enter new year
sixty one means less
than sun returns
when winter comes.

Shaggy Fall

Shaggy fall fades
past flame, flutters
untidy across lawns,
flares against low sky.
Winter procrastinates.
Death wears gold, scarlet.
Life shows no hint of green,
pulses unseen from tap root.

No Solitary Candle

Even first night,
Mennorah holds
no solitary candle.
Always the shemash,
glowing helper stands
a little appart.
Radiant shemash abides.
No candle melts alone.

Predator

Cancer offers no retribution,
Steals what it steels,
on it's own terms,
conceals its proximity,
holds prey immobile.

from Three Word Wednesday, The words provided this week were: retribution, immobile, and proximity.

Refuge

Occupy only myself
still under covers
still in my skin
warm air out,
cool air in,
to feel safe,
to feel free,
to rest, I must
occupy only myself.

This one was written for the "occupy" prompt on Poetry Jam.

Gotta Use it All

based on "fabric of life" prompt



Can't pick and choose,
hate stitching dead babies,
cancer, family fights,
into my life quilt.
Wish I could cull out
the jagged jarring pieces,
hog the pretty symetrical
bits, perfect moments,
smiling children, straight A's.
Doesn't work like that,
Gotta ust it all.

Sliver

Sliver of glass
jagged in my palm
glows pink, golden,
beautiful reminder
of handblown bowl.
Shattered memory
brings hot tears.

Silver Dime

this poem is written to Peggy's Poetry Jam prompt to write about the past or/and the future.

Seems like yesterday
I sat at my mother's
kitchen table overlooking
Disneyland, Catalina Island
visible when smog blew out
We packed silver dimes into
plastic tubes to save
for my grandchildren.

This afternoon my grandson
spilled his treasure box.
I helped him clean up marbles,
wooden monkey, silver dime
from 1963, unpacked from
plastic tube at his mother's
kitchen table on Texas afternoon.
Seems like tomorrow came.

Outside Christmas

I understand aroma of vanilla
light crusted pies cooling
on trivet in warm house
on cold winter evening.

I understand subtle magic
of laden tree shining on dark
nights, scent of cedar bark,
bright star shining in window.

I understand amorous passion
to sing of peace on earth
and genuflect before incarnate
messiah, born as baby in manger.

No Jewish experience gives me
inkling of frantic December mission
to negotiate precipice of deadlines
and emerge to a perfect Christmas.

Sex at Sixty

I wouldn't have written this poem without a prompt (Thanks Mary) and I didn't intend to blog it. I am one who still blushes. But I like the poem and the feelings it draws on in me and I figure censoring myself is as wrong as censoring someone else, so here it is.


Sex at sixty is sex,
means what it means,
or doesn't mean much,
same as at twenty four.

Sex means I trust you
with all that I am,
all I fear, all I doubt
Sex means no secrets.

Sex means I will
cry in front of you,
giggle like a wild child,
fart, burp, wail, roar.

Sex means I cherish
the velvet of your skin,
the scent of your breath,
the beating of your heart.

Sex means I let you in
all the way, body, mind,
spirit, heart. All I am
I open to you in love.

Sex means what it means
or doesn't mean much.
Same as at twenty four,
Sex at sixty is sex.

Green Resurgent

Blackened pines
stand silent, fall dead,
stink still of smoke
from September wildfires.
Bright winter grass,
green as birth,
frames death
with life.

Note To Self

Breathe.
Feet on the floor.
Hands open. Shoulders down.
Listen, understand, then speak.
Pitch voice from deep belly.
Speak only truth.
Breathe.