Tag Archives: poetry

by

slow deep

on the rocks, the canadian shield, old rock
rock that extends for miles and miles
water cupped in the rock
cupped like a hand, holding a lake

you say
You seem so deeply at peace

I say
No, I am not at peace at all

then I say
Yes, in the depths I am at peace

like the lake

the surface is all weather
glassy sometimes
then surface chop
then rain singing and bouncing
then waves crashing on the shore
reflecting the sky
light, dark, blue, the green of trees
pale pink in the morning
or orange and blue with the setting sun

the depths change slowly
not that slowly
in the fall the water temperature drops
to 4 degrees
and the lake turns over
all the 4 degree water dropping into the depths
and the warmer water rises
until the whole lake is 4 degrees and most dense
and then the surface freezes
the ice is lighter and floats on top
until it is solid and deep
and the lake winters over

in the spring the ice melts
and the ice breaks up
and the lake rolls over again

my surface is choppy with emotion
memories
grief and joy

my slow depths turn over

and there is deep peace

by

the ocean is never calm and still, but the depths are very different from the surface

Come in

It’s an ocean
Big enough for us all
Float under the bridge with me
Or wander out to distant ships at sea
Stay on the surface
Or come down in the depths
Leap out and crash back in whale form
Or surf the wake of a boat
Or in the waves to catch a fish
Storms come and rain and rainbows
Sky with clouds lightening sun stars
Climb a rock or lighthouse or cliff
Or stand on a boat
But then return oh love return to the sea

___________

from 2015

by

All the things she had at one point wanted to be

someone said

we all contain all the archetypes

which archetype do you reject?
you say no, I contain no mother no father
no murderer no priest
rich woman poor woman beggar woman thief
doctor lawyer indian chief

princess is the role I reject
as a child as a girl
fearing to be used
fearing to be taken
wanting to be mine not his
not his ever
not chattel
not property
not owned

divorcee is a role I reject
realize I scorn it
then turn my face from abuse
and embrace it fully

lonely is hard
alone is easy

what is the difference?

my uncle says
I’ve never been alone before
I’ve always been the most
important person in someone’s life before

at least he thought so

which archetype do you reject?

we all contain all the archetypes

all the stories
all the stories that we know
if the only story that we know
is of poverty and despair
and hiding and war
discrimination and hatred
while the lighted box shows happiness
elsewhere while we suffer

the arch of the rainbow
may not be a story
that can be imagined

all the stories that we know
and tell

tell

_________________________________________________________________________

I will add this to the Ragtag Daily Prompt #54: reflection. Because it fits.

 

by

surf

Have you been on a beach with surf and small rocks? The rocks click as the surf rolls in and out.

 

surf

 

it’s hard hard to let go of the dead

harder still to let go of the living

and you say to yourself
they love me, they just don’t understand

you try and try and try to explain

“Don’t talk to us!” they say

Whispers return to you

a garbled version of your words
out of context
twisted
they twist your words

you keep hoping

hope slowly ebbs
tide going out
sand in an hourglass
no, slower
erosion of a rock
tumbled in surf
smashed on other rocks
over and over and over

water wins
the sea wins
hope erodes

let go

they do love you

and they are afraid

they cannot let you close
they cannot listen

your words are fearful

vulnerable is fearful
speaking your truth is fearful
you authentic is fearful

they shake

agony of longing

to be authentic

let them go

and maybe love
and longing
will toss them as rocks in the surf

until they too are changed

by

black on white

black on white

white on black

it doesn’t matter

angels falling
made to fall
at peace with falling

I let myself fall
at peace with falling

and wonder what that means?

death?

no

though there are times I long
for the Beloved
for union with the Beloved
for all in one
and one all

let go

when an angel falls
they are at peace

they are at peace
with falling

people

see black and white

people

see good and evil

people

separate
label
categorize

angels don’t

black on white
or
white on black

it doesn’t matter
there is no separation
we are one

Beloved

One

by

Mundane Monday #158: all of the squares

Welcome to Mundane Monday #158, today’s theme is “all of the squares”. That is from an AA Milne poem called Lines and Squares:

Whenever I walk in a London street,
I’m ever so careful to watch my feet;
And I keep in the squares,
And the masses of bears,
Who wait at the corners all ready to eat
The sillies who tread on the lines of the street
Go back to their lairs,
And I say to them, “Bears,
Just look how I’m walking in all the squares!”

Mundane Monday is an exercise in joy for me: look for a photograph to of something ordinary that also is arresting or brings up something like the above poem. Many thanks again to Trablogger for letting me continue the prompts. Here are his directions and suggestions for better shots: https://trablogger.com/better-your-photography-before-the-mundane-monday/. If you have a photograph on the prompt, link to this and next week I will list yours! Also, tell me if I miss anyone.

Last week’s beautiful shots, for Mundane Monday #157: two for one.

K. L. Allendoerfer here: color matched set.

Colette B. here: fork.

 

by

Butterfly Girl Comes to Visit

For the Daily Prompt: carve. I think of skiing, bicycling. And I think of a piece of my heart. I wrote this in the early 2000s.

Butterfly Girl Comes to Visit

She is so beautiful with her wings
multicolored many splendored lights caught and multiplied
as she flutters

I freeze
I am an ogre
Huge and clumsy
I know from past past many times
Not to touch you
My rough fingers have brushed the tiny feathers from your wings
You cry in pain and your flight becomes erratic
My kiss is just as bad
Rough lips
If I move the wind of my passing blows you against a window
You fall stunned

I hold and crush
the box of feelings that can hurt you
Sorrow, anger, fear, dismay
Even fatigue turns my aura red
And scorches your wings

I hate to cause you pain

Fly butterfly girl
My baby needs me, my pager rings
My ogre husband stirs
The effort of holding still plain on his face
I can’t hold still much longer

Butterfly girl
Fly on home