Wednesday, October 7, 2015

Poets United Midweek Motif/You Are My Teacher

You Are My Teacher

yes more often than not                   when i wonder                  who you are

i realize                                             you are my teacher           my love

you have come to teach me             i have come to learn          the sky a new mexico blue

the clouds with silver linings           mountains dark blues        the landscape golden

touched with greens and red            the night time cool            the air fresh and clean

you sing to me                                  you lay it before me          sometimes i am slow to learn

i stumble                                           you break my heart           and stand laughing

it's all a big joke                               don't take it seriously         learn and turn the page

October 7, 2015

Sunday, October 4, 2015

October 4, 2015 Sunday's Whirligig/Polly's Pocket--The Sunday Whirl/ The Broken Nexus and the Nautilus Shell--Poets United Poets Pantry

Polly's Pocket

fragments                               bits and pieces                             thoughts

memory                                  dreams                                        words unspoken

in your eye                             i see the eye of the universe        the eye sees me

light of the world                   a lifetime disappears                    still fragments remain

i check my watch                   look at the clock on the wall        your touch erotic

darkness approaches              count my change                          something missing

a tisket /a tasket                     yellow leaves in the corner          summer is gone...

was there a theft                     misplaced                                     or was it simply lost
October 3, 2015


The Broken Nexus and the Nautilus Shell

i hear your voice                tender                                        sweet

soft                                       carried by the wind                 through the window

suddenly                             there is a change                      threats

insults                                  list of resentments                  press my face against the glass

who is speaking                 are you still the one                 the alternate beat of my heart

has someone new              come to live in you                  i call your name

my words lost in the wind                         spinning free in the cosmos

the nexus between us lost     i flush your unkind words       from my thoughts

unpredictable                     nothing to count on                everything changes

i stand alone                       nothing left                                maybe i never knew you
October 4, 2015

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Writer's Digest/Forget About Me --Poets United/ Midweek Motif/ Healing and Recovery

Forget About Me

sitting beside the road      dust flies into the air                          cars rush by

to forget your unkind words       that is the challenge       still i continue to hear them

as if whispered into my ear                                                see your face contorted

the snapping                              spitting                             of each word

the anger displayed             still i made no response          i removed myself

to other climes                     quiet meadows                       a gentle horse

with shiny coat               nuzzled my shoulder                   sun shines

it is warm in that meadow       from where does that anger come         it amazes me

that people behave in a manner unseen before                      not in my family

yet it is my family          who behaves in that manner               how to forget

wipe the windows of the bus clean                       it is as if we are all drowning at sea

i cannot save you              i cannot save myself                 you float away from me

soon i no longer see you        still there is something lost          alone beside the road

September 30, 2015

Healing and Recovery

after a while                          i could see again                            could feel again

still the pain lingers              is it illness or                                  disappointment

pain or grief                          so hard to tell                                 one from the other

the damage was done            no one knows when sometimes     there are no answers

maya says       we won't remember the words spoken but     we know how they made us feel

perhaps it is feelings             that get sick                                    the body follows

fill the old kit bag                  off to war                                  we can't always be sure

how it happened         or how to make the patient well          healing can happen over time

sometimes not           a cold compress helps               take an aspirin call me in the morning

September 30, 2015

Sunday, September 27, 2015

The Sunday Whirl/ Starry Starry Nights --Sunday's Whirligig/ TheMorning's First Light -- Poetry Pantry

Starry Starry Nights

fall           the loveliest time of the year                 without notice

it has slipped into place        all is visibly changing dressed in yellows

red and gold            nights are cooler        music floats onto the mesa

sounds of drums         heartbeat of the people            dancers practice

kick and spin                    magical nights                           celebrate

quietly preparations are being made              the level of activity is high

apple butter bubbles on the stove                         the kitchen a mess

memories of other years                                            bring deep sighs

fall is the season in between      extremes of hot summers and cold winters

a time of gratitude and anticipation                 cold clear starry starry nights

September 26, 2015


The Morning's First Light

the morning's first light       still                  quiet                          breathless

the native horses stand in the field as though painted by the artist's hand

along the railing                   motionless                                    their coats shining

catching the first light of day     dreaming of dancing      pow wow's prancing

singing poems                     today they         stand luxury apartments block the view

people at the windows          watching horses standing                all dreaming

in the morning's first light           still            quiet                         breathless

September 27, 2015

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

September 23, 2015 Poets United / Midweek Motif/ Choice


you have a choice                    to make a choice                         choose wisely

choose what you will               you will keep it forever               it will be yours'

you will slip into it                   see how it fits                           it will be who you are

it will define you                      take your time                             be sure it is your choice

and not the choice of another   you will care of it                       watch it grow

it will color your world             you have a choice                      to make a choice
September 23, 2015

Saturday, September 19, 2015

September 20, 2015 The Sunday Whirl/Fighting in the Streets --Heart Lines Grow Deep/ Poets Pantry

Fighting in the Streets

in the great canyons of the city      people crowd the streets     flee in all directions

mickey and minnie                    and scantily clad women         with the letters NY

on their bare bottoms                 cowboys and indians               dash for subways

no longer free               the threat didn't come from another      someone unknown

instead it came from you              my love                                 i didn't see it coming

your attack deadly                    the scent of death                      in the air

freda once painted the scene      death by a thousand nicks       there was no retreat

as in historic battles           one had to stand and take it             streets soaked in blood

people slipped in the bloody gore      maybe it was all about     winning or some other prize

that couldn't be ignored             i ran the gantlet                         took every blow

from your deadly bag of tricks       could not deny your cruelty         our history long

you knew my weaknesses         i did not respond                       for that

you became more angry           tossed thunderbolts                    i try to understand

the cause of such bad weather       a sudden thunderstorm         but have no clue

about the motive                      or was it                                      just the time of day

September 20, 2015


Heart Lines Grow Deep

the tree loaded with green apples      ripe for picking      it is the harvest time of year

standing on the shore      watching the waves return       see your face in silhouette

as though it were carefully cut from black silk            it drizzles even as the sun shines

the season of the heart               is now                              and has been from birth

heart lines grow deep         into the deepest depths            into the dark places

it is the child in you        that takes unfair advantage      he knows no boundries         

he knows you best                you have opened to him     shown him all of your secrets

nothing hidden                     he has the power                   to strip you to the bone                    

holds nothing back               he can be vicious               for what the child doesn't know           

even love itself                     can not always heal                      what is broken

September 20, 2015

Note:  I do not know why the spacing isn't as it should be?  It appears correct, but when I update, it no longer is?

Friday, September 18, 2015

Sunday's Whirligig/The Day of Resentments

The Day of Resentments

the day was overcast       the clouds hung heavy               the streets were crowded

an old woman naked       carrying a guitar             superman and the statue of liberty

resentments tied on strings       followed every step           like rescued puppies

dazzling array                        of grievances                            offered for inspection

no it's not my birthday              still you thought               the day was right

the time had come           the clock struck the hour           you readied your weapons

sparks flew         resentments can rot your heart          choking the life from your body

erode your sanity           you cut me down to size             all that is left are stumps

we were perfectly pared       you opened the gates                   showed me i was wrong
September 18, 2015