Sunday, June 28, 2015

Sunday's Whirligig/ Elsewhere -- Poets United Poetry Pantry #258


you say elsewhere       but where is elsewhere                  you say

anywhere but here       maybe over there                            or over there

to shop                          to be shopped                               days spent

over there shopping       the old records set on the curb      taken away

what an idea            you wanted them                 or are you talking about

the records of days           the clock in the hall ticks                 hands spin

someone keeps track         elsewhere                       sitting at the computer

time for you to go             or stay                             marks the calendar

collects the mail                 from the mailbox                        opens letters

one can run                         or walk                        there is no getting away

wherever you go              there you will be             that is the way of things

still you open the book          silently look for the answers           ...elsewhere

the little fly catcher         gently calls to his mate            as she sits on her nest

June 28, 2015

Thursday, June 25, 2015

Writer's Digest/ Go Away --

Go Away

go away                            i scream at the magpies              when they come close

a pair of flycatchers             have made a nest                         outside my door

the flycatchers come every year                  for many years

not the same flycatchers                                  probably parents & grandparents

we have seen at least 10 to 14 tiny birds                    fly from the nests

they like it here                     but the magpies torment them        don't want them here

the politics of the avian world                        not always understandable to me

the magpies seem such rowdy neighbors       strutting in their black & white tuxedos

chattering loudly                 i appear and scream                            go away

June 25, 2015


Butterflies Were Present

butterflies were present lifting from your fingers       filling the room with magic

i should have known...                   perhaps i did                         a window opens

so much unexplained                       fresh air fills your lungs

it is as if you can see forever       and you are privileged to know 

                                                                    what is usually found only in dreams

                   know what is under the bed

                            ...the next words a person is speaking           before they are spoken

                   could win a spelling bee                      for sure

it isn't something one can understand        only something you know     much like a feeling

                           ...why did you buy all that syrup

                           ...why did the raven perch on the mirror doing antics that made us laugh

                           ...why did we go to the wrong store

                                                 which turned out to be the right one after all

                                                       a magical shop of tiny doll house furniture

                  the book store finding the book

                                                  the singing creek where the willows grow

                                                       the mystical nature diary of opal whiteley

another dimension opens            to reveal the extraordinary...

the first days of june were magical                       indeed

                              the night air filled with the scent of honeysuckle

                               your gesture of love             tying our hearts together for all times

                               weaving that moment           into all future moments  

                                                                                          ...butterflies were present

June 25, 2015

Wednesday, June 24, 2015

June 24, 2015 From This Moment... Poets United Midweek Motif/ Longing for Winter

From This Moment....

the world rotates on its' axis       movement imperceptible     the ground you stand on

opens up           no longer supports your weight                               you are in free-fall

as if you have jumped from an airplane        or a cloud                 in that moment

your life changes               fears confirmed                      nothing is as you have known

worries come true         you cease to breathe                      you are reborn in that instant

struggle through the birth canal           you find a new future          printed on the ticket

which appears in your hand        surrender it to the ticket taker           find your seat

and hold on for dear life       the choice of direction is not your's      take note of the color

listen to the whispers             make notes                      you will be given no instructions

from this moment on you will be flying                        by the seat of your well worn pants

June 23, 2015


Longing for Winter

entering summer                         longing for winter                                 i sit by my window

the morning air filtering through                                               there is chill in the air

reminds me of the cold days of winter        the snow falls lightly             changing the scene

grey against white                        a visual transformation                     everything disappears

as though a dream               awake under the covers                tiptoe across the cold floor

light the fire                a cup of hot chocolate waits for me                      warms my hands

and my heart                                today the weeds take advantage of sunny days

the afternoon showers             sunset comes late                 i get up early to open the house

capture the cool morning breezes             refresh the house before          the heat of the day

surrounds and invades             hard to breath                               sweat runs down my back

shuck my clothes               summer is best when naked                         cool bubble baths

afternoon naps                    curled with the kitty                     the fan cools the shadows

June 24, 2015

Sunday, June 21, 2015

Sunday Whirligig/Broken Dreams -- Poets United/ Poet's Pantry

Broken Dreams

a woman wanders...

     ... through her life

     ... negotiating customs and traditions

     ...examines the architecture 

     ... inspects the underlying structure much forgotten

     ...she stands separate from the past

     ... remembers little

      ...her life is here this moment this city-of-now

     ... holds love sacred

     ...with tremulous hands

      ...she opens the letter

     ... that holds her future

June 20, 2015

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Writer's Digest/Life at a Premium --Poets United/My Father

Life at a Premium

life at a premium        children with guns              would be in the grade school

country at war      fertile ground watered with the blood of its' people     young and old

the whirligig spins in the wind        made by hand                  in simpler days

the morning quiet            everything still as if underwater               or drowned in resin

i hear your lyrical voice                      you say you sheltered eight against the storm

your life full                                children, grandchildren and great grandchildren

make a cup of tea                  make a pot                               make it two

the storm passed without harm        the morning after            bright

first of summer           the second without you                             life goes on

candidates announce             a long hot election season                       expected

June 17, 2014


My Father
my father has been gone for many years now                             i miss him still

there was not another like him            i was lucky              he embodied loving kindness

whatever i wanted he tried to provide          he played ball with the kids on the block

one time while in southtexas                             he helped me to secure a large hark's nest

i wanted to draw          i don't think he ever told me no              i loved him so

i wish he was here today      it is hard to fill the empty spaces       created by love's passing

June 17, 2015

Sunday, June 14, 2015

June 14, 2015 Sunday's Whirligig/Afternoon Thunderstorm--Poets United Poets Pantry #256

Afternoon Thunderstorm

thunderheads bank against the mountains        the storm is on the horizon

underbellies of the clouds...     blue                    expectation fills the air

rain drops appear on the windshield            what secrets spilled with the rain

gossip passed in the garden       a poem spread before you         whisper secrets

speak gently                  all is bathed in the rain...              i think of you

June 14, 2014

Tuesday, June 9, 2015

Poets United/A Piece of Yarn--Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads

A Piece of Yarn

i opened the door      startled a pair of fly catchers      they flew in unison

a perfect circle... then another           before they flew skyward

i ride my weary steed across rough ground             we travel south

the sun already high in the sky... sunrise /sunset how quickly go the days...

these words follow me                     reminding me of their truth

is this the little boy at play      i don't remember growing older       when did you

it seems only yesterday you were small                    then... you went away

another summer/fall/winter/spring                    happiness & tears

one season following another          i did not think i could bear

 yet loneliness & sorrow stand          they are my companions

 i am learning to accept them...

sunrise/sunset                                                 swiftly fly the years

blue pavilions rise on the horizon...                     how to keep all that is past

is it like a piece of yarn          wound on a spool                  to be unwound later

to read the words written there                          weave into the fabric that is my life

dry the tears of yesterday...                      follow the scattered bread crumbs home

June 9, 2015