Tag Archives: poem

by

Mind

Facing a wall or lying in bed
breathe slow: four seconds in
one two three four
four seconds out
one two three four
keeping count

or facing a wall sitting
on a zafu, bell rings to start
how can forty minutes be so long?
fall asleep and body weaves
waking me up OH don’t hit the wall
adrenaline then slithering down
towards sleep again

zen mind, blank mind?
my mind wanders off again and again
what is for dinner? grocery list?
that annoying thing or person
at school or work
the mind busy as a squirrel
burying nuts and digging them back up

bring the mind back again
again again again
to the breath the wall letting go
of this well trodden mind trail
only to have the mind wander off
down another: this with briars
and falling into a pond
that has ice and cold

back shake like a dog
shake it off
focus on the breath the wall again
vivid multicolor cats
with paisley and stripes and spots
there is the BELL
forty minutes

Bow to the wall
and stretch
get up
ready zafu for the next time
meditation
mind

_____________________

Written today for the Ragtag Daily Prompt: blank.

The translation that I originally learned is here.

by

the pale reflections of our bitter selves

they are neglected, you know, by most
the worse self, the worst self, the dark
the impulse to yank the moon from the sky
when she slides down the stair, to see who’s there

there are few poems written to the dark
impulses, the demons, the underside of our hopes
and dreams, the nastiness, the grief, the anger
we are kept in the dungeons below the basement

below the belt we band together huddle
in a pile of claws and unfeathered wings and teeth
wishing for a blanket, to be held, rocked
loved, wishing for the mothers who left us

the fathers who denied us, pushed us away
so that we knew and know what to hide
what to deny, what part of ourselves to kill
we try and try but few do

and then they are mourned, people say
they don’t understand but ask the demons below
and oh, they do, they do! maybe the next plane
will be kinder and love the demons

the bitter self, the dark self,
that longs so badly to be loved
that longs forever to be loved
that is not loved this round

this round

written 11/24/2023

by

Peak

The pendulum swings far and back
Too many babies, what will we all eat?
Suddenly the switch, another panic attack
Now too few to support Wall Street
We wait in running cars in the drive-thru line
Wanting our turn to order fast food
It’s sunny through the smog and we feel just fine
The weather’s getting stranger, the world in a mood
Maybe we’ve peaked while driving around
Who will take care of us when we are old?
Peaked at the drive-thru, going down without a sound
An AI wonders at the price of gold
This might be as good as it gets
Maybe an AI will keep a few of us as pets

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: drive-thru.

by

Dance

Sometimes I am an extrovert
sometimes an introvert
we are all a mix
we all have preferences
which can change with time
and situations

I would go to parties
check the exits
and spend time studying the bookshelves
when I was tired of people
greeting familiar friends on the shelves
and knowing a little more
about my host

I start dancing
meet my spouse
we took dance classes
dance with lots of people
and invented moves
and taught each other

Dance takes balance
paying attention to a partner
sometimes we dance with someone new

Sometimes I am an extrovert
sometimes I am an introvert
and I almost always love to dance

___________________________________

I took the photograph yesterday through my front window. A bird dance!

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: extrovert.

We love to dance to this rather naughty song. It’s pretty extroverted!

by

Shattered

Is the wave, the water being shattered?

Or is it really the rock that is shattered, bit by bit, over time?

Stone shaped heart

your heart is an agate
clear stone

you have won
sort of
you think

but I am water
I am waves
I will smash you against the other rocks
and wear you down

I am water
I carve you like a laser
you wear my name
carved in your stone shaped heart

it is already written there
on your stone shaped heart
faint, because water wears slowly

water wearing stone
over time

________________________

written in April 2022

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: shattered.

by

Flooded

Trigger warning: trauma and feelings.

I cry because
the laundry overflowed
the sewer blocked again
we might have to pull up the floor
and lay it down a third time
I hate the laundromat
water runs across the floor
as fast as the tsunami
crossing the fields
crushing the houses
catching the trucks
in Japan

I cry because
I have to ask for help again
Help comes
but the memories of asking
when it didn’t
help didn’t come
and I was abandoned or humiliated
rise up and overwhelm me
I am flooded
I am helpless
someone help those people
The shaking earth is bad enough
But the ocean rolling inland
Over all
Breaking all
Beams to toothpicks
Those are the memories that rise up
And flood me
I think of the soldiers
and victims of wars and disasters
and PTSD
tsunami
of memory

__________________________________

Written before 5/2011. I have posted before, but couldn’t find it on a search. Posted today at a friend’s request.

by

Heaven and hell

Hell is other people. Heaven too.
How much do you adjust for this person?
The one who is only available when I am damaged
a foul weather friend, unexpected,
busy with all the damaged around,
never time to play. This one hides much
and slips into denial like a familiar cloak.
I am sad. That one talks about others, ah, gossip
I hate it. This one has a blind spot I could
drive a truck through. I wonder why? I am curious.
I read that women are still expected to be responsible
for the house. They are praised or blamed if the home
appears perfect or a mess. I am clearing my main floor
to resemble this idea of what a house should look like
but reading that I wonder. Is it worth it? My decor
is packrat cat lady, though only two cats. No self respecting
burgler would come in as they would trip and fall,
over cats or stuff. Stuff on the stairs: I don’t care
and know that at 65 I will be counseled in my “free”
medicare wellness visit, that I’ve paid for through
all my working years, to make sure my house is uncluttered
reducing fall risk. Hell is other people and heaven too.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: hell.

by

Oscar party

I’m going to have an Oscar party
No, not those Oscars. The trash one.
The grumpy one I grew up with.
The one who lived in the trash can
grumpy all the time. Reliable, you know.
Trustworthy. I knew how he would respond
to everything. I valued that then and now.
Let’s have a party and all come as Oscar
the Grouch. Let’s dress as muppets and be grumpy.
Let’s complain about anything and everything.

And what do you think you will hear,
listening in to this Oscar the Grouch party
as it devolves?

Laughter.

by

Peace Plague

If I can be anything I want to be
today let me be a peace plague.

Let me be a peace plague, airborne,
spread fast in the air
just a breath of wind
two neighbors who are angry stand at a fence
one drops a rake, the other a hose
they stare at each other. “Come to tea,”
says one, and the other comes.
Someone stops writing a letter of complaint
and gathers blankets for the warming center instead.
A policeman aims at a kid with a gun
shouts “Freeze.” and then he freezes too
on an intaken breath, and the kid drops the gun
hands up, breathing my plague.
And in a war zone, one side chokes on the air
and stops firing. The other aims and stops as well.
Both fall to their knees and weep. After time,
some get up and start gathering the wounded. Others
tear sheets into bandages and yet others start moving the rubble
finding the bodies. The bodies must be found and buried
in holy ground before rebuilding. My cousin
opens her mouth to gossip again and inhales and chokes
and stops. She says something other than she had planned.
Peace spreads like a wave, like a plague, and everyone
looks for someone to help.

If I can be anything I want to be
today I want to be a plague of peace.