Category Archives: poems

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This too

This too I want to remember.
Discussions of the world together.
The mysteries of science and sweatpants strings.
String theory and medicine, cabbages and kings.
Why the sea is boiling hot and whether pigs have wings.
This too I want to remember.

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Winter bless us

Winter bless us year end dark and freezing
winter turn us inwards prayer for joy
prayer for joy for young ones all are seizing
others mourn loved deaths, eschewing toys
darkness let us settle loving all
silence let us turn our thoughts to peace
walk in wind and birds, iced trees so tall
few are out to gently walk the streets
the frozen ground holds lives that lie in wait
in freezing seeds hear the call and know
let every human drop their arms and hate
while seeds lie in wait to grow
let winter’s silence fill our hearts with joy
let peace descend, war melt to children’s toys

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A poem for Christine Goodenough after reading her Winter Delights.

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Piece meal

Trigger warning: gruesome humor?

I miss people at this time of year, only sometimes then I remember things that make me not miss them after all. That ambivalence. Love can be pretty complicated. Then I started thinking about what specifically I miss and then it morphed into this poem.

I really miss your hands: send them to me.
Send your heart too since you don’t use it.
You don’t see me or even look. I’ll take those eyes.
I miss your voice: send your tongue and larynx.
Bellows to mend, better add your lungs.
You eat too much protein, I’d care for those kidneys.
That brain is not too bad, I’ll admit. Ok, I’ll take it too.
Those feet and ankles and shins and legs are nice to walk with.
You really aren’t kind to your liver: I would be.
You can’t stomach me. Hand it over.
Most people don’t value their intestines nearly enough: I will.
You chose not to listen to me: abandoned ears, finder’s keepers.
You surely won’t use the bits that are left. Give them to me.
I may not reassemble you correctly but it will keep me entertained.
Piece meal.

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The photograph is from January 2022, on the east coast.

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Yesterday

A triple play: a loss, a gain, a change.

Yesterday

Yesterday our friendship died for good
A small death that won’t be noticed
I want to place a small cross on the day
to mark this death and life
life because my small child is gone
she grew up, now part of the quiet woman
who came to me in a dream
when you left
you move on and tell me you won’t change
so you will find another to draw close
and push away, terror
that you will be trapped
you already are, in your own mind
you say you want freedom
in refusing change, that is death
slow and alone, is lonely different from alone?
call it freedom as you wish

I want to grow, I want to learn always
you want your past, your dead
you tell me I am keeping you from your life
you have it back I say as music restarts
I don’t, you say, my brother is dead, my wife
I did not cause those
they happened before we began to walk
and yet you blame me
like an angry child

I am in the gardens wandering
I am in the gardens wondering
the gardens of the world
everything is a garden
though some are planted with skulls
and young people fighting
It is strange to feel whole
I do not know what to do with it yet
but I will

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I have fallen for this band. I am really enjoying them.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: triple.

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mad bad sad

I am not good at stopping loving people, because I kept losing people as a very small child. I wanted to be loved and have people stay. So how to deal with people who leave now? Well, I talk to my dead in my head all the time, so if I think of the person as dead, then I can just continue on. The friendship is certainly dead, love or not.

I am also thinking about poetry forms. I am enjoying writing sonnets, but after all, I’ve written limericks and haiku for years. Not to mention enjoying the brilliant rhymes of Dr. Suess.

mad bad sad

You are dead and I am glad
It makes me sad that I am glad
that you are dead you make me mad
when you are bad and make me sad
as well as mad you sad bad dad
not my dad who was bad as well
except when good as I can tell
bad angels fell but there’s no hell
hells angels tell that heaven’s swell
and you are dead and I am glad
it makes me sad that I am glad
that you are dead makes me so mad
you were bad and made me sad
as well as mad you sad dead dad

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Yammer

You’ve joined my silent dead: doesn’t matter
whether you speak or not. You’d like this song
and be jealous of the skills. I yammer
to my dead, the number rising strong.
At sixty I declare that I am middle aged
Mom dies at sixty-one which feels unfair.
My sister dies at forty-nine, cancer rage.
I watched them both as chemo takes their hair.
You too are dead no words across the breach.
I yammer to you daily in my head.
Agates gleam, treasure on the beach.
You refuse to look, I mourn that you act dead.
You sit stubborn in a rocking chair alone.
You don’t believe your dead will call you home.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: yammer.

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sonnet 3

I have neither roots nor wings nor love.
I lie: friends gather round to talk each day.
The early dark slides over from above.
No one to warm my bed, for no one stays.
The dark creeps up a sickening horrid thief.
I have no heart to stay awake at night.
It’s barely five; why this flood of grief?
It’s only in the morning I’m alight
before the morning is even close to dawn.
Wide awake I clamber from my bed.
I stretch, the teapot sings and I just yawn
and wonder why the night brings on such dread.
I tell my friends that now I’ll date a tree.
He never leaves and he will stay with me.

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For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: roots.

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Caramel

Warm and tan and sweet

but you don’t like sticky, heh.

I buy gummi bears and forget to bring them
over and over for months
forget to bring them to the beach.
When you teach me
how to find chalcedony nodules
clear agates that let the light through,
you say, “They look like gummi bears,”
and you are right.

In the early morning when the tide is low
and the sun is low too
angled and polarized light
the nodules, agates we call them
light up like stars, catching the sun.
Sometimes I see one just after you
and you are diving down to get it
and I am too late again

You find three to my one
The gummi bears are a bit hard
when I finally bring them along
I choose a red one, the small kind
tuck it between two fingers
when you aren’t looking
I’ve gotten my fingers a little wet first
so it will light up
the same way as the agates
I wait until we’re a yard apart
and you aren’t looking at me.
I jump forward and reach for the sand
“Look at this one! So red!”
You move towards me and I flash it.
“Almost bear shaped!” I say
and drop it in your hand.
Your face changes from envious
of the clear red to mildly horrified:
“Sticky!” you say, and shake it off your hand.
I laugh and pop a yellow gummi bear in my mouth
and you are laughing too
and shake your head.
“I don’t want one!”
“Got you!” I say.
“Yes,” you say, “You did.”

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For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: caramel.