Monday, November 13, 2017

Explaining Myself To A Purple Pansy




Born deep in another
Century --what did 
I feel and do?
I'd wake and sleep
In sun and night --in
Light of other days, 
Like you, in what is real.
I felt time take me
Here, where we are
In hope and dream.
It does not seem so far.

Friday, October 27, 2017

Halloween Poem Inserted Into Hamlet Act 5, Scene 1

(I found this Calderon scene slightly more fun than Hamlet and Horatio unearthing Yorick's skull in the graveyard. Have always wished the old jester had a line in Shakespeare's play, but ventriloquism with a skull would be a bit morbid) 

This shell of holes and hinges
Doth in disinterment turn
Bold and impart timeless
Secrets to thee --lives in discussion,
Not aristocracy, want thought
And not decree-- in guilds and
Trades, list, oh list: the human
Mind seeks rationality, the sublime,
To combine and and set it free.



Wednesday, October 11, 2017

What Doves Do

["Mother and two baby birds, if you can find them in the darkness"--Norma]

We wait on trellis arches
For faces in ivy leaves--
Whether eye-patched pirate or
Jesus-- what we see and sees us--
What one believes depends
On angle, light, on sundown
Shadow --impressions one
Receives change in setting sun.
In all, whatever runs this
Process, we are doves, and
Even nightfall brings us love.
 
 

Monday, September 18, 2017

Old Poem, New World

















I have climbed the stairs,
An astonished child.
I have left the lull of illusion.
You and I and a tremor of time
Climb brimming bright along the shore.
I am not only myself anymore.
We are a wave 
Holding sunlight and life,
A rolling glow, music and more--
More than the sum of ourselves before
We gave our gift to time.
We stepped our separate stairs
To a door upon the earth.
It is open.
We have a simple hold,
A touch, a wash of fanning sea
Over a swath of sand, a boulder,
A lace of foam, a stairway of waves--
A lyric on  land.
When songs mingle, they sing
Among themselves, winding gift
With gift where new-winged dreams
Drift, melodies touch.
We touched,
We joined ways, and to
That touch entrusted all our days.

Monday, September 4, 2017

Western Fence Lizard




I watch a lizard scale a
Sunbleached rail and learn.
"Are you leaving our
Garden?" I ask --he turns
From his task and answers.
"Where I go, the garden is.
So no, I cannot leave, nor
Can you; you are part
Of the garden too." 

[I'd like to thank William at Looking For Jack, for identifying my little garden friend as a Western Fence Lizard. Go see his blog. It rewards attention!]

Monday, August 28, 2017

On A bridge


For Poetry Monday, I decided to add a picture and large print to a poem posted 12/13/09, stemming from one of many myths about King Midas. The myth, in brief: Apollo had a dispute with Midas and punished him with donkey ears. Midas was understandably embarrassed and hid them under a turban.  His barber knew the secret but it burdened him, so he went to a meadow, dug a hole, whispered the story into it, then back-filled --hoping to be rid of it.  Reeds grew in the meadow, and began whispering "King Midas has ass-ears."  Wind carried the news everywhere.

 On A bridge

(Sunday, December 13, 2009)

I am amazed at 
What things mean.
Devices, by which
The impossible is 
Seen, surround the soul.
What is secret when
Wind and rattling reeds
Repeat what is
Whispered in a hole?

Friday, August 11, 2017

Fenceline Grapes in Water

We have love and
Minds to be out of.
We are not alone
At the brink
Of reason, kindness.
Anything less,
Sanity revokes
Into cosmic jokes -- 
We miss what we had.
No defense except
I haven't intelligence
To go mad--neither
Do you-- I suggest 
We start anew.