Thursday, December 31, 2015

December 31, 2016 Writer's Digest/ Seeking the Quest of Nothingness

Seeking the Quest of Nothingness

time continues                    like a river                       what was here

is just as suddenly gone     i will not pass this way again              the year ends

the year begins                   is it necessary                  to take inventory

or are all losses marked in red          empty spaces     holes that seem black

 long stretches of nothingness         like water will life fill the spaces     push and shove

for its' share of attention           still...                       having lived most of my life

i know nothing                so many questions unanswered                    you have said

it is not too late               perhaps it is                      the falls are ahead

i rush toward them           the journey over for me                      end of life stands still

i know only the quiet after         ear splitting quiet            the story complete

December 31, 2016








Sunday, December 27, 2015

December 27, 2015 The Sunday Whirl-- The Night After Christmas/ Sunday's Whirligig/ Poets United -- Red Against White

Sunday's Whirligig and Poets United

Red Against White

room of her own                    make that studio                       kitchen

bedroom                                 a luxury                                    not given to everyone

the stream runs through it      thoughts                                    ideas and words

they belong to her                  cherry trees in full bloom          petals fall on to the snow

red against white                    it is not a fact                             just an idea

i am lured into the scene by the red       the red rope               which binds them

lovers holding hands              he pulls down a bough              for her to see

she ties a red ribbon into a bow        hung it in the tree            red against white

spring will come soon enough         the woodlands                  will come alive             

turn green                            offer shade                             i can find no reason for it all        

rains come                           streams overflow                   flood waters cut-short lives            

even on christmas day         or the day after                      it all seems so vicious                    

sweet ones die too soon       hearts broken                         red against white                           

pasted together with red       that is the scheme of things           i fear there is nothing else

December 26, 2015
__________________________________________________________________________
The Sunday Whirl

The Night After Christmas
gathered around the fire                the tale will be told                    for many a year 
      
one after another will join in         adding one detail                       after another

recount all that happened              on that horrible night                 the telling always begins 
 
‘twas the night after christmas      the children were nestled           all snug in their beds

mama in her kerchief                     and i in my cap                         we had just settled down

for a long winter’s nap                   while visions of sugar plums    still danced in our heads
           
then the roof flew off                      with such a clatter                     i sprang from my bed

to see what was the matter              away to the window                 tore open the shutters

threw up the sash                            no moon                                    a starless night
        
the butter on the table                     was next to fly away                  one sentence

after another                               adding to the experience            little things remembered

gives one a chill                              the night was dark and rainy      eleven tornados

eleven killed                                    death and destruction                 everywhere

they said it all happened                  in thirty seconds                         hardly enough time

to run for safety                               to gather one’s thoughts             create a sentence

find connections                              we’ll try again next year             to tell the tale

remember what was lost                 find another ending             with a happy santa clause

                                                        
December 27, 2015                       

  

                      


           
















Thursday, December 17, 2015

Poets United Midweek Motif/ Design

Design

design is not what i say          but the how i say it              it requires planning

thought                                    and something to say          even something simple

finding a unique way to say    the moon is blue                  merry christmas

and all the other trivial things      that make up a day         i miss you

i love you                                thank you                            design is the carrier of meaning

in everything i do                    through design                    i organize what it is

i want to communicate            there are rules                     but rules are to be broken

finding a new way                    new materials                     new meaning

December 17, 2015




Sunday, December 13, 2015

December 12, 2016The Sunday Whirl, Sunday's Whirligig, Poets United / Searching for the Words

Searching for the Words

i wished to sing to you                an aubade                               but the words are lost

i keep searching              the tune misplaced            perhaps i can speak the words to you

the moon was large        in the night time sky                            the moonlight bright

so bright                          bear turned over                                  her sleep disturbed

sometimes              the words i have been searching for             are found dried

like old cheese                    the edges curled when                     i try to sing them

they are so dry                they no longer exist                              in their old form

they unravel                    like threads along the edge                   become fringe

or night mare melodies      you deserve better                             i will continue to search

December 12, 2015














Wednesday, December 9, 2015

December 9, 2015 Poets United Midweek Motif/ The Road South (color)

The Road South

the mountains rise up       look like dark shadows            against a pale morning sky

the snow has melted         so far the weather has been mild           even in december

the days pass quickly        one dissolving into another      like sugar in your breakfast tea

disappearing even before you know                      like the scenes out the car window

wild grasses and dried brush                        golden against the sandy hillsides

dropping into the canyon      the blue car ahead applies his brakes          red lights flash

the rio grand fills its' banks flows south       the road follows the river's meandering path

the old road bed is still visible                         where the little train once made its' way

from santa fe to taos                     ravens occupy the highest branches of the bare trees

which look like grey lace in the landscape      willows red crowd the banks of the river

 along the roadside                     empty bottles sparkle               in the early morning sunlight

December 9, 2015


Sunday, December 6, 2015

December 6, 2015 The Sunday Whirl/ Stitches Sewn by Hand -- Sunday's Whirigig -- Poets United

Stitches Sewn by Hand

give the girl a whirl             crow and spider                    get in step

the night begs for a dance    the sky full of sparkling stars           no warning

no alarm                               that day sunny                     like most other days

soon enough snow will fall    the day will be gloomy      the mountains disappear

all will be grey                    shouts in the distance            the words clumsy

we only speak in whispers     walking single file         red poppy in the button hole

time enough                            to remember                                 a single day

not so long ago                    far away                          memories unravel

stitches sewn by hand          the flight delayed             the storm ahead visible

from the dark clouds            lightning flashes               touches the earth

connection missed               when i got there                you had already left the room

where i saw you last             no blanket to keep me warm          to pull over my head

the cold creeps in                  molecules freeze               socks to mend

December 6, 2015



Thursday, December 3, 2015

December 3, 2015 Writers Digest/ Teacups -- Poets United Midweek Motif/Energy

Teacups

it is the season        shopping and good cheer       while at the bank

i noticed                  a small tree                             with cards on it

on each card            the names of children              in foster care

i examined a card     she is four years old               a short list of things

she wanted for christmas              the first thing on the card

was teacups              a simple request                      today i will go back

get the card and i will go shopping         for a very special christmas gift
    
                                                                                  ….teacups

December 3, 2015

Note:  I was at the bank, and noticed the tree, i examined a card, and asked the cashier about the tree and the cards attached.  I'm not sure why I didn't take the card, but I will get it today.  Can't wait to find the perfect teacups.






Tuesday, December 1, 2015

December 2, 2015 Writers Digest November PAD Challenge 2015 / Let the Moment Begin

Let the Moment Begin

the conductor mounts the band stand
raises his baton
the players take a deep breath
instruments at the ready

he takes my hand
leads me to the dance floor
let the moment begin

November 30, 2015



Sunday, November 29, 2015

Poets United Poets Pantry -- Writers Digest November PAD Challenge/ Home Again -- The Sunday Whirl -- Sundays Whirligig

Home Again

something happens       it does not matter what                      it is cataclysmic

brings great change in your life      what was before              will never be again

the world you see is different      a new beginning of sorts     your insides have been ripped

blood on the streets        you are left naked                             with no ability to sprout

                                                                                                                    wings

to fly from the scene      your first steps will be tentative        you enter a new age

all that you knew is forgotten     yet you will be stalked         by memories

ugly words spoken        evil lose in the city                            you walk the plains

seeking safety               you look for the red rocks                 ask for clarity

follow the river             leave discord behind                          a new adventure is just

                                                                                                                     beyond

your reach for it            close your hand around it                  you are home again

November 29, 2015

Note:  This week I have tried to put all the prompts together.  For the Writers Digest, November PAD challenge the prompt was:  A poem as an open letter.  The words from The Sunday Whirl and the words from Sundays Whirligig.  I wasn't able to use all the words, but most of them, and to offer it to Poets United.








Friday, November 27, 2015

November 27, 2015 Writers Digest November PAD Challenge/ Left Overs

Left Overs

what is left after the event     i come to the studio each day      i am at work

this is the process                  and there is no hurrying it            day after day

one day becomes another      often they appear the same           hard to tell one from another

like grains of sand                  in the hour glass                           one by one

the daily work is the minutia  the detail that becomes                what you see

the left over                             hung on the wall                          this is the process

the daily attention                   a meditative act                            stay focused

remember the task                   like the postman                          it does not matter

rain or snow                             sunshine or shadow                    each part has to be created

and what is left over                we call                                         art

November 27, 2019






Thursday, November 26, 2015

Writers Digest November PAD Challenge 2015/ Luxury

Luxury

what is luxury after all         perhaps...                   someone to come home to

a lover                                  a friend                       a partner

a pet                                      loyal and warm          a bed in which to rest

a roof over my head              something good to eat               a bowl of soup

a loaf of bread                       a pair of shoes           a coat in winter

work of my own                    a smile freely given  a hand to hold

a book to read                        a letter from home    safety

health                                     eyes to see                a heart that beats

love confirmed                       given and received   a starry night

a day of happiness                  a memory cherished             thoughts of you

November 27, 2015

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

November 25, 2015 Writers Digest November PAD Challange/ Waiting to See II -- Poets United Midweek Motif/Survival

Waiting to See II
waiting to see     father always said      it was me     
still hard to say     it happened     right in front of you
thinking back     in a foreign land     probably not
who can say     poor little match girl     we could walk away

waiting to see     will you see      what I see
think it might be you     hard to admit
hard to know      when it started     faraway
the pieces didn't fit     the story line
as she grew     with matches to sell

waiting to see     will you be able to say
even though you know     the scene played out
it has been as it is     i had nothing to do with it
did you know     she a precious child
perhaps something missing     it is worst
she stands on the corner alone     she belongs to us

November 25, 2015

I have rearranged the poem 'Waiting...,' November 22, 2015 and repeated the lines, 'waiting to see.'  The prompt was to write an echo poem...or something about an echo.

________________________________________________________________________________
Poets United  Midweek Motif  prompt:  Write a survival poem.

Survival
survival is the key word                you felt threatened               insecure

what else could one do                  strike out diminish            the opponent

so like                               a wild and frightened animal      still a little girl

what happened                               survival is your need

perhaps you are about to die         to be killed                            erased

it is hard to tell from the outside   what is going on                 on the inside

scream at the top of your lungs      beg for mercy               is there another way

can survival be accomplished         without killings others      find a place

safe and sound                                 pray for strength          survive if you will

November 25, 2015






Tuesday, November 24, 2015

November 24, 2015 Writers Digest November PAD Challenge/November's Love Poem

November's Love Poem

You asked for a love poem...       the sun in the sky      the freshness of rain

the scent of sage after the rain      sunsets on the horizon      the moon aloft

stars twinkling in the sky       the soft muzzle of a horse      and his warm whispers

the companionship of my dog      walks in the forest       coffee in the morning

a good night's sleep      a letter from home      the rhythm of drums

falling snow      a fire in the hearth      your hand to hold

the song you sing when happy      my mothers voice remembered      your final days

and all the days of your life      your gentle heart       the years you gave me

my kitten soft and sweet      antics at play      memories shared

old photographs      picture books       laughter remembered

the smell of paint       the quiet of the studio      work accomplished
 
and a thousand other things i love       my life is rich      because of you

November 24, 2015

Note:  The prompt for the day was to write a love poem, and I've written of some of the things that make my life rich.



Monday, November 23, 2015

November 23, 2015 Writers Digest November PAD Chalenge/ prompt was to write an apology poem

An Apology Poem
oh yes     i am so sorry it happened      at first 
i thought      it was a misunderstanding      but upon reflection
i realized     there was no misunderstanding      the response to my words
were as they should be      you did understand     what i was saying
i began to speak     and it was those words      you took issue with
didn’t let me finish    your inability to control    words spoken in anger
hard to forget      what should i apologize for      for breathing
for being     your desire to protect      was certainly understandable
but i had no desire to hurt      from the beginning      i decided not to take part
to see where it might go      the ugly words were yours      i made no response
it seemed to make you more angry      perhaps on that day      i should have begun
by telling you how much i love you     and how much i appreciate you
perhaps that is how we should always begin each sentence      but how could i have known
it was not an ordinary day      there was a terrorist waiting      a land mine ahead
you said you thought it began earlier      but earlier      i patiently answered every question
but grew tired of the questions      and objected      the questions made no sense
seemed intrusive      someone stomped away petulantly      saying 
i was only trying to have a conversation      the sun sparkled on the water
there was a light breeze      later the day grew stormy      there was no turning back
your words      and actions were hurtful      i am sorry
November 23, 2015