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poems I've written, poems I haven't written but love, rare thoughts, and writing about writing.
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Baking potatoes
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Posted:Jan 5, 2021 1:04 pm
Last Updated:Jan 15, 2021 4:23 pm
8260 Views
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I stand in the kitchen
not really present
talking about baking potatoes
with my husband.
For a second
the girl who baked potatoes
in so many other people's kitchens
looks out of these woman's eyes
awed at the fact
that she can bake potatoes
in her own kitchen.
In that instant the woman
receives as a gift
the incredible pleasure
of baking potatoes
in her own kitchen,
and is grateful.
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3
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His lips
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Posted:Jan 3, 2021 7:37 am
Last Updated:Feb 3, 2021 5:58 am
8366 Views
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His lips
written January 1st, 2021
The formal farewell committee
is with me at the airport seeing
me off for my return flight home.
I told him not to come
that there would be no hiding
love breaking my young heart.
He comes anyway
love pulling
us relentlessly together.
The boarding call wrenching
me away from him and over the ocean
to the life intended for me.
A lifetime later
he can't stop love pulling
him towards the ocean.
He stands at the shore looking
back at our love
across the water with me.
I watch him turn away
with a smile on his lips
that no one knows.
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4
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the trees watching us
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Posted:Dec 29, 2020 4:52 am
Last Updated:May 27, 2021 1:48 am
8249 Views
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the trees watching us
written December 29th, 2020
we walk down the old logging road
the trees watch us pass
noting our presence
our comfort with each other
we make our way to the small stream
and sit on its banks
listening to the sound as it flows past
bouncing over rocks and roots as it goes
i sit with you and listen
to the sounds all around us
and if i listen closely enough
i can hear the trees watching us
whispering to each other about their day
wondering what we will bring
as we pass through their stationary world
their roots entwined under the ground
i feel you beside me
my leg resting against yours
i take ahold of your arm
and lean against you
with you, here
i am at peace
watching the trees
watching us.
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5
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My forest
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Posted:Dec 28, 2020 2:42 am
Last Updated:Jan 22, 2021 6:22 pm
8205 Views
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My forest
written December 28th, 2020
My forest is the 2 trees
outside my front window
the overstory of my forest
is a prickly ball tree
research says
it is a chestnut or sweetgum tree
the overstory is tall and hearty
giving generous shade in the summer
and raining prickly balls
on the yard in the fall
the understory of my forest
is a dogwood
that blooms gloriously each spring
as it reaches from under the prickly ball tree
for the sun it's greedy sibling hogs
there are forests (and poems)
much more expansive than mine
built more complexly
more often talked about
photographed, written about
but this little 2 tree forest
has been my company
for 20 years now
they are my trees (and my words)
and they are precious to me.
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4
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My work
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Posted:Dec 18, 2020 6:06 am
Last Updated:Dec 20, 2020 11:41 pm
7653 Views
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My work
written December 16th, 2020
When I was young
I thought I would have
work I dutifully showed up for
and a home
maybe not with a white picket fence
but you get the idea.
The - the home - the work
did not come
I thought I had failed
not tried hard enough
fallen off trac
I did not realize
that life had diverted
put on a different path
which I am still discovering.
My are different from yours
my home and my work
things that only I would recognize
as home and wor
Do you see them?
I will teach them you
with my words
in these poems.
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4
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Once again
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Posted:Dec 17, 2020 1:20 pm
Last Updated:Dec 28, 2020 2:52 am
8171 Views
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Once again
written December 7th, 2020
When heaven turns from light to dark
the substance remains the same
but the sense of it changes.
What was just clearly seen
now shadows only hint at
ghostly outlines of mouse giants.
Now the moon with her varied phases
rules the shaded depths
in this time of her dominion.
The petals of the moss rose
curl up in close surrender
bereft of the sun's bright light.
That which was bold
curls up under evergreens
to sleep on a bed of pine needles.
Owls pierce the night sky
derisive of the night-blind masses
as they dive for their just rewards.
All waits for the heavens
to turn back once again
from dark to light.
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5
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Longing for the sun
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Posted:Dec 13, 2020 5:15 am
Last Updated:Dec 17, 2020 1:21 pm
7991 Views
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Longing for the sun
written March 6th, 2020
Do vampires long for the sun?
Do they sit in their safe shade
and reach a pale cold finger
towards the brightness of the sun?
Do they dream of standing in the open
faces turned upwards towards a sun so bright
they have to close their eyes?
Do they lift their arms
in sun salutations
adoring the sun?
Do they yearn to feel the sun
touching every inch
of their naked skin?
Do they paint
picture after picture
of worlds filled with sun?
Do vampires long for the sun?
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5
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the singing sun
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Posted:Dec 9, 2020 11:45 am
Last Updated:Dec 20, 2020 3:26 pm
7428 Views
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the singing sun
written december 9th, 2020
the sun sings
of sweet shoots and stems
while darkness dictates descriptions
of decay and disintegration
i have spent lifetimes
concealed in the dark
now i want walk
from the darkness
into the singing sun.
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5
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Making home
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Posted:Dec 6, 2020 2:17 pm
Last Updated:Dec 7, 2020 10:20 pm
6831 Views
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"... in the end, all our journeys have to bring us home." -from "The Art of Stillness" by Pico Iyer
Making home
written June 19th, 2020
For some home is the place they start
The place in their hearts
That was love safety comfort
And so they spend their lives
Trying to get back there.
For others of us
That place we were born
Is something to be survived
Escaped from as soon as possible.
So we journey through life
Finding people
and places
and treasures
and memories
To build our home of.
Making for ourselves
This thing called home.
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2
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winter sun
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Posted:Dec 5, 2020 3:19 am
Last Updated:Sep 7, 2021 8:04 am
7263 Views
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This poem was written on a cold winter morning in the North.
winter sun
written february 5th, 1995
laying stretched in bed
after sleeping all night
all night in my head
with the walls up
i open my eyes
the winter sun
winter sun burning bright
bright and white and pure
winter sun is such a contrast
sparkling off the cold snow
cutting through the crisp air
brightness the only thing left of its heat
i feel the walls go back down in my head
i shut my eyes the blinding brightness
and let the sun make its way unaided
into my self
can it make its way around the walls?
find its way through the maze?
discover all the secret places?
winter sun doesn't have vision or reason
it isn't confused by the barriers i put up
by the false walls that i have built
or the inaccurate signage
for a few minutes
on this cold winter morning
in spite of my defenses
the winter sun illuminates all of me
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5
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Peace
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Posted:Dec 5, 2020 2:59 am
Last Updated:Dec 13, 2020 9:24 pm
7071 Views
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Peace: a poem about healing
written January th, 2020
peace
washing over me
gliding over me
breaking over me
playing over me
peace comes and washes over me
washing in sparkling clearness
carrying in fresh sustenance
taking back with it
terror fear pain sadness
leaving a smooth reach of my soul
peace comes and glides over me
a gentle front of sensation
moving across my body
bringing awareness and sensation
taking back with it
a dulling physical numbness
leaving a new reach of body
peace comes and breaks over me
a swirl of foam
gentle break of wave
momentarily hard angry strong
showing that soft gentle peaceful
doesn't have mean weak victim passive
peace breaks over me
leaving a new reach of turbulent emotions
and gentle strength
peace comes and plays over me
stimulating my mind
tickling my body
moving my heart in new patterns
sometimes almost drowning me
other times just a trickle
but peace always plays over me
leaving a constantly revitalized reach of potential
this reach never forgets
doesn't forget the tides that came before
doesn't forget the patterns that were before
but allows peace
wash
glide
break
play
and see what new patterns will be made
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5
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this tree - winter tree - witch tree
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Posted:Dec 4, 2020 3:58 am
Last Updated:Sep 26, 2021 3:17 pm
6730 Views
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this tree - winter tree - witch tree
written december 3rd, 2020
every season
of a tree
has a beauty all it's own
spring sprouts - blush of first love
summer lush greenery - the fullness of love
fall explosion of color - love burning itself out
but it is
this tree - winter tree - witch tree
that speaks to me most
your branches
spindly fingers
clearly reach
for your lover the sun
this tree - winter tree - witch tree
every cell
strains upward
wanting to be one
with the sun
this tree - winter tree - witch tree
raw skeleton exposed
loves first bloom long gone
longing for
your lover's touch
this tree - winter tree - witch tree
do you know
that your lover's skin
will set you both aflame
until her desire is quenched
and you are left
but ash and bone
do you care?
this tree - winter tree - witch tree
reaching ever upward
towards your love
wanting what you want
regardless the consequences
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5
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Avoidance
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Posted:Dec 2, 2020 11:42 am
Last Updated:Dec 3, 2020 2:56 pm
6605 Views
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Paraphrase of a quote from James Baldwin:
One's writing is a reflection of one's private life. The writer can only reveal to the world what he is willing to face about himself.
Avoidance
written November 29th, 2020
There are things in my life
that you know are present
only by the lack of light illuminating them.
This is a tendency
I come by honestly
as my father was a master.
My frantic avoiding
creates voids in my world
that turn into black holes
sucking everything towards them
until that which has been avoided for so long
that thing I would do anything to erase
becomes the primary theme in my life
what energy I have is spent maintaining
the dreaded void.
We are defined by
what we are
what we do
and by what we avoid.
Where do I want to spend my energy?
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4
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