Monday, June 28, 2010
I will find it
In rarified, clarified air,
The land and the house
And the room
Of my own.
It will be
A silky stop
Above the rocky crop;
A quiet refuge
To be found.
It watches the path
The fallow past,
Its patience an ancient,
Beating, breathing thing.
There to keep,
Annointments hallowed, deep
In this meeting
And this resting place
Just a note: This wholly unsatisfactory piece is part of keeping appointments with myself. Good, bad, or indifferent, I will write. While you're here, take a look at the two posts below this one. Practicing. Practicing.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Summer again. The ivy winds its way
Round the posts and up the walls
Like lover holds to lover.
This time, it’s embraced the shutters.
No matter how I wrap it in my hand,
I cannot pull the clinging things away.
The thought of such tenacious green embrace
Soothes my asphalt-addled mind.
I’m planted to my knees in green,
My feet sunk in this green ground,
My legs lost in miles of ivy.
If I stand here long enough,
Vines might climb my legs, bind me like a post.
If I stand here long enough,
Green leaves might hold me stalk-like, cover me in kisses.
If I stand here long enough, I might
Spread my sprouting arms and say, “Lover, come.”
Monday, June 14, 2010
The Poetry Bus is on the road with Jeanne Iris at the wheel! Jeanne's challenge, in part, is to ruminate on the origins of our names and see what comes to mind. Check Revolutionary Revelry to read the full challenge and see who else is aboard...and keep reading here to see my (very) weak takes on the prompt. We're among friends, right?
IN A NAME
Adam’s chin ran apple juice.
So what? Would
If Eve had offered,
Say, unspellable potato?
Would grief be gone
Were Romeo called Capulet?
Would longing for a kinsman
Not put cankers on that rose?
A name is not a thing;
I am not etymology,
Though, By God, given half a chance,
I would be queen.
The name Karen is of Greek origin, a variant of the original name Catherine and means pure, clean. The name is often associated with queens, of whom Catherine of Alexandria, Katherine of Aragon, and Catherine the Great are most famous.
More than anything
I want to be,
Eye and heart and ear,
I want to see
What others fail
I want to split
I want to be
A lake where
I want to seine
I want to drain
Away the spillage
And the dross.
I want to drown
In the world’s
More than anything,
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
I saw a long, lean half wild rangy thing,
Climbing from the creek into the yard.
It slinked its way across the field
On silent feet and stopped, arrested
By the scent of a baby doll left by
The neighbor’s carefree, careless child.
I suppose God must love even cagey things,
Those attracted by the smell of innocence,
Themselves one moment abandoned on the ground,
The next locked in the jaws of something other,The next, disappearing into dark beneath the trees.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
The Bluest Bird
The bluest bird I ever saw was in the middle of the road,
And I, going forty-five on a lane made for fifteen,
Couldn’t stop in time to take a good look, so a quick flit
Of true blue was all I saw lifting into the morning air.
Even I thought it strange that I managed to see the silver and blue
Of the can an oncoming driver lifted as he squeezed past
And the blue sky mirrored in another driver’s shades,
But the shade of the ruby breast on that bluest bird,
I missed, moving way too fast on a road not made for speed
On a silvery morning, missing, too, the tender notes
From a throat that could have lifted me high into a sky so blue
It might have hurt my eyes.