October 31, 2014 Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads - Fireblossom Friday/Spooky Things--Poetry Jam/Broken

Something Spooky

life is full of spooky things                           some we share          some unique

perhaps spooky things are the seeds of worry                 what keeps us up at night

 we worry about others                                about ourselves

safety                                                  health                         money

aging                                                   loneliness                               longing

tomorrow                                           yesterday                              

right now at this moment                                                                we are ok

perhaps the big thing is after all                                         death

something we can’t really wrap our heads around                      we can deny it

we can pretend it won’t happen                             not today

or... we could invite her in                            welcome her             

set a place at the table for her                                            honor her

she relieves suffering                                   she is the doorway

while we find her a bit spooky                                she is the final answer

October 31, 2014

Happy Halloween

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Broken

i always liked broken things                        painted orange         

something waiting for me                                        longing to be loved

caressed                     cherished                   repaired

these things were mine                                            had my name on them

to me more beautiful than the perfect                   they wore their history

And now the collection of broken things                            lingers

the little Chinese terracotta tea pot                                    with broken lid

the large blue and white platter      marked Granada      purchased in a thrift shop

cracked and mended                                                prized possession

my own broken heart                                               barely beating in my chest

with tender care       one day it will heal               stronger than ever

wear it’s scars                        show where it’s been           hold you tenderly

                                                embrace the world

October 31, 2014

                                                                                                                                                           

                       

October 30, 2014 dVerse/All is Blue

 All is Blue

my world                    blue                            all is a  distant           blue

the memory of you               blue                taos mountain                       blue

the clear sky of new mexico             a very special             blue                all birds                      blue

                                                                                               

my siren song                        blue                sung in the key of                             blue

weeping                     tears run down my cheeks                         blue               

my hankie                  blue                my days without you                                    blue

                       

all words in the dictionary               blue                all that i see is                       blue

my heart beats          blue                                        bleeds                         blue

i          am blue

October 25, 2014 The Sunday Whirl/The Scene was a Hospital Room in June -- dVerse/A Homecoming to One’s Self

The Scene was a Hospital Room in June

the scene was set                                                                    apocalyptic feeling

                                    dead serious                         not frivolous                          

strange inklings                                                       of what

the week would bring

gnarled roots                                                                                      held us 

audible words                        not needed

count them                                                                 thirteen poppies...

                                                                                                           thirteen poems

the week                                  like a dream                            seemed speedy                

all passed in a flash

                  it would not turn out well

                                                                                          epilogue blue

_____________________

A  Homecoming to One’s Self

where is homecoming                      when you have no home to come to

the old family home                                                  where you grew up belongs

 to someone else now

other homes                                      where you lived for a little while

                                                                       

                                                                        aren’t your home either

and now the place you hang your hat                    the place you call home

is the place you come home to everyday

maybe when it happens everyday                         it’s not so special....or maybe it is

                                                            but we take it for        granted

all the old folks are gone now                                  maybe a problem of getting old 

homecomeing is                                returning to yourself alone

October 25, 2014

October 25, 2014