Because I Must

It's nearly the end of March, and I haven't been on the Poetry Bus all month. The business and busyness of living have limited my writing and riding along with my poet friends. An email from the Bus Captain, the TFE, made me realize how I long to be among the great friends I've made here, and so I dashed off this little ditty (who uses that word?) because I must.

The bus is driven this week by Uiscebot, who gives us several orders for this week's poem. You can see them here or maybe just deduce them by reading the poem here...

BECAUSE I MUST

He said,
You can't go
to the moon,
and I said,
Fly me.

He said,
You can't go
home,
And I said,
Try me.

He said,
You mustn't
rhyme,
and I said,
Is it a crime?
Then give me
the time
to go home
and find
a poem or two
that shuns
the bright moon
or takes you away
to some other day
and to someplace new.

And he said,
That'll do.
Stop this right now
or I won't even link;
it's not worth the ink
or pixels or dots
it takes for Uiscebots
to put this drivel
on his blogspot.

So I sit idly by
and won't even try
to join this fun time
because I must rhyme.
Every time.

So there.


Now, go and read some real poems here. Enjoy the ride!

woman writes, woman rhymes, woman loves

What could be more unpopular than a poem that rhymes? Maybe a poem about happiness? After all, aren't we poetic types supposed to be full of woe? Well, sorry folks, but I just can't manufacture any angst lately. Oh, sure, there are things in my life that are difficult -- things I would change -- but in the end, I am a very happy person.

When I started thinking about the TFE's Poetry Bus challenge this week, to be still and feel what is inside us, I could only think of one line: I have loved and been loved. Have I had hardships? Yes. Loss? Absolutely, heartbreakingly. But through it all, I am blessed to be able to say that I have faith and I have loved and been loved.

For the full Poetry Bus challenge and to read the other (probably non-rhyming, maybe not-so-happy) Poetry Bus riders, go here. It's a talented crew and a rollicking ride!


deep within

a warm wind formed in rain skirts below the windowpane
stirs the curtains skips along the wall

travels gently down the hall skids across the cold stone floor blows in
through an open door to the heart-room of the home

where the woman sits alone works the pen that tells her art
thinks about the singing sound made by choirs of angels' wings

as they gather as they swing through the ether and of weaving at a loom
where the art reflects the heart of the weaver then a thought comes

fully formed from the wind where it was borne:  "Contentment deep within,"
in the poem that she forms in the music that she hears in the blessings

of the years in the people she has known in the love
she has been shown contentment on the wind skirts the curtains

rushes in mixes with her softest sigh weaves itself
into the dye of the fabric of her very happy life