To who I was

I miss my mind at seventeen,
wide open, inhaling scripts whole,
tape recorder, keeping copies clear

I miss my heart at twenty four
 pulsing with hope,  confident
love would withstand every storm.

I miss my body at thirty two,
strong, graceful,  life iving,
confident in the flow of the dance.,

I miss my soul at fifty five,
sheltering matriarch soul, steady,
root, trunk, branch and leaf.

At sixty four, mind slower,
 heart sadder,body stiffer,
 soul weary, I am myself still.

This poem was written for dVerse Poetics

Told

Five years old, elective mute.

Her parents brought her to therapy

on employee assistance - five sessions max.

Four and a half sessions, she played.

I talked, waited, hoped. Twenty minutes left.

I told her "Last chance, Please tell me now."

I held my breath. She told. I called the police.


For Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Tranquility

After flash and crash of storm, 
tranquility hangs silent, perfect, 
a single shining raindrop caught
for one moment, gone the instant
squirrel shakes branch. Transient.
This poem was written for Poets United Midweek Motif, where the theme istranquility.

Visit?

Scent of fresh peaches boiling in sugar 

water woke me from well intentioned nap.

She leaned over the bassinet, her back to me.

Familiar blue dress, red scarf, neat white bun.

Time creased hand stroked soft cheek.

My grandmother crooned over my firstborn.

No matter she was fourteen years dead. 

This seems right for All Saints Day (and yes I know Jews don't celebrate All Saints Day but what the heck?)  Some possibilities seem to cross traditions.  Anyway, this one is for Poets United Poetry Pantry

Rainy October Night

Wind shakes windows, roars and

croaks against illusions of protection.

Walls resist intrusion, push banging back.

Water pounds roof, knocking insistenly

reminding me death will knock too soon.

posted for  Poets United Poetry Pantry 

Writer

Writer breathes soul into characters
creates life from memory and word
orchestrates details, crafts world
until finally characters rise up real 
to make the story their own.  


This is written for Poets United Midweek Motif.  The theme is "Animation."

Haunted

 

I am dry in my house, this rainy night

but cannot settle to sleep. He haunts me.

Can you spare a dollar?  he asked

and I could, I did.  That was all I did,

placed  crisp dollar in shaking hand,

got back into warm car, laughed with

grandson, ate a Rollo, wound my yarn. 

And the man sat in the rain behind Savers

with his crutches and his cast and the

sense of death surrounding him.  I gave

him a dollar, left him there.  He haunts me.

October Blur 

October blurs the edges

Primary colors fade to

subtle, nuanced shades.

Round pumpkins, spiral

gourds obscure edges.

Sky falls in closer, mist

rises, soft air kisses earth.,

Night eclipses vivid day.

Light surrenders to shadow.

Mystery blurs identities.   

Death orchestrates rebirth

Veil thins.  Spirits sneak in.

Resuming this blog

That's what I'm doing.  I haven't been posting poems and for some time during a very difficult year I wasn't even writing them.  Now I'm writing again so I want to try posting again.  At least then they will all be in one place.  I'll start with three recent poems about writing, since I haven't been and now I am..

I Write 

I write when I want to sing

when I need to scream

when I wake from dream

when beauty breaks me open.

when sorrow breaks me down

when I have a no answers

to keep my balance, to connect,

to reflect, to shift your perspective,

to shift my own, to be known.

I Don't Write 

I don't write when

I don't want to know

what I think, what 

I feel.  When I don't

notice the moon,

the mood, the earth

under my feet, the sky.

But mostly, beneath

excuses and philosophy

I don't write when I don't.

Contrast

When I don't write

I stand alone, unknown.

When I write I show 
my face, exchange grace. 

Promise to Gabriella 

 

I promise your memory,

I will stop, listen deeper to

shadowed voices, whispers

that too much is too much.

 

I will stop, fight harder to

help families see that lives

hang in the space between

harsh words, hard choices.

 

I will stop, notice better

the white knuckles, barely

hanging on - I will offer net.

I promise your memory 

For Gabriella

 

Misery took you.

You could not abide.

Death looked better

than one more day.

You could not abide.

Music was not enough.

You could not abide.

Hope left you behind. 

You could not abide.

No solace sufficed.

Death looked better

than one more breath.

You could not abide.

misery took you.

 

 

Turning

 

When I don't change direction,

I get where I'm headed.

Least rotation of toes opens

Destinations unimagined.

Hunkered Down

 

Nightmare pictures

cross borders,

cross generations,

children hunkered down

when fists smash faces.

when bullets shatter glass,

when bombs explode homes.

May I never be too weary

to work for a world in which

no child must hunker down.

Pruning

 

Fancy was fun - back when

I bought towels to match tile

and added decorations to

each autumn holiday display.

I set the owl and bat on the

mantel just so, arranged acorns.

Fancy was fun - but now

I fancy plain again, refrain

from decoration, give away.

Fancy was fun.  Plain sustains.

 

 

Extremes

Unacceptably extreme

in 2014 USA to say

I am a  socialist 

but it nauseates me

to read one woman

pays $12,000 for

strappy red shoes

she brags she will

wear only once  while

another woman decides

to skip supper each winter

night to keep the heat on.

I can't keep swallowing the

lie that what we have is what'

we deserve.  Those  of us

with plenty may have earned 

it (or inherited it or married it)

Maybe we made better choices,

or maybe we were just luckier

or born with talents that pay well.

But everybody had a mother.

Easy to remember no tiny baby

 deserves more than any other.

Easy to forget when they grow up.

Hard to stomach responsibility

to care for one another. For me

capitalism unfettered has become

unacceptablly extreme. 

Just We Two (for Bob)

 We Two

 

So much truth.

Just we two know.

So many memories

Just we two share.

It has been hard

Just we two,

not against the world

but in it, together.

just we two.

It has been good.

So much work

just we can do.

So much love

Just we two feel.    

After Writing

There's a feeling behind my eyes

when I've written all day, an ache

I would exchange  for no pleasure.

 

My brain is tired.  I don't remember

what I ate, if I ate at all, forgetfulness,

I would exchange for no pleasure.

 

Words from  my mind ran my fingers,

flowed onto the screen, into my bones.

I fight the clock, the phone for this pleasure..

 

There's a feeling behind my eyes

when I've written all day, an ache

I would exchange  for no pleasure.

Resolve

People laugh at resolutions.

I do not understand why.

I need resolve.

I need to resolve.

It is too easy to drift,

to life on default.

I need to resolve

I need resolve

I do not understand why

People laugh at resolutions.

Wish

Last year I made good

choices and bad choices.

I came from love, 

and I came from ego.

This year will be the same.

I will make good choices'

And I will make bad choices.

May I come more from

love than from ego. 

Alive

Sitting the night
in the house
of the dead,
I treasure round
weight, rough orange
skin, rich aroma ot
tangerine in my hand.
Little sun reminds me
to rejoice in mysenses,
my beating heart, life.
I wonder if the deceased
knew the sweet tart taste
of tangerine on her tongue