Thursday, January 31, 2019

A World of Shadows in High Mountain Desert/imaginary gardens with real toads

A World of Shadows in High Mountain Desert

Twilight on the mesa
Snow covered sage
Last light of day
Slipping to the west 

Horizon ablaze with this last light
Windows reflect gold 
Lights aglow in adobe bungalows
The air cold against my skin

Last light like an abandoned dream
Tales of yesteryear
Each casita holds a life unique
A story to tell

All the way to its unexpected end
Stars made for wishes fill the darkened sky
Twinkle overhead
Twilight in winter brings back memories


January 3, 2019





Peggy Pond Church

In the shadow of the mountain
She grew up
Became a woman
In love with the world around her

In love with the mountains that rose
From the earth where she was standing
“Barefooted among the grasses”
She loved horses 

Awake in the dream
Her work reflects
“Her sensitivity to the beauty
The spirituality

The mystique that is New Mexico”
Even the dirt her floors were made of
“She was born on an isolated ranch 
In the territory of New Mexico in 1903
            
Where the great plains meet the Rocky Mountains
She delighted in “spring with its lilacs
Summer with its heat
Autumn with its odors of dead leaves and nuts

Winter with its snow
Her world was the journey of the poet”

January 31, 2019

I have taken many words from the article about Peggy Pond Church. Some of the words are the Peggy’s.  She is one of my favorite poets, she writes about the New Mexico landscape, and puts the reader right there.   Mabel Dodge Luhan said of Peggy,  “As a girl, her eyes always had a direct, long-range expression, as in one who gazes from a mountain top across wide valleys to a far-away distance.  And alwqys she had time.  Out in the world, one has everything else but hardly anyone has time!  Time to experience the overlooked, the important natural things that escape us in our hurry.”

 You can read more about her here:
http://womenoftaos.org/women/profiles-lege

Wednesday, January 30, 2019

Harbinger/dVerse - Harbinger

Harbinger

As I approached the waiting van
I saw you out of the corner of my eye
Then you swooped close to me
Didn’t want me to miss your presence

A red flash
Followed by your life long mate
I knew the message you brought
A messenger from sprit

The time was now
The night before
It was so hard to leave you
I returned to your side three times

Already lonely by your departure
Yes, I knew you were leaving
And it would be the last time
Yet, because you were ill

And could not heal
I prayed the time would come soon
You would not suffer long
So hard to let go the rope

That bound us together
I took a deep breath
Stepped into the van
The river washed over us

January 30, 2019




In Darkness/poets united midweek motif - darkness

In Darkness

In darkness
Bulbs prepare for spring
Where the brightest light is found
Where you hear the tiny voice

In darkness
Where you find yourself
Where there is no other
Sleep

In darkness
New ideas grow
A place to heal
Peace is born

January 30, 2019


Tuesday, January 29, 2019

The Will to Continue/dVerse

The Will to Continue

I place the saucer over the cup
To steepthe “will” that is there

Soften
Strengthen
Deep
Rich
Strong

In line with its destiny
I don’t do it on my own
I need the “will” to

Survive
Continue
Seek
Celebrate

My life and yours

January 29, 2019

dVerse:  Steep








Silence in the Early Morning/imaginary gardens with real toads

Silence in the Early Morning

Surrounded by the early morning silence
So loud I cover my ears
Literally a presence
Pushing and shoving

I hold my ground
A confrontation of sorts
Hard to believe I am still here
I have walked a long way

Crossed many bridges
Entered many doorways
Unwrapped many packages
Explored what was behind

Hidden in plain view
Many days have passed
Many seasons
There is confusion on deck

Yet, I sail on
Through storms and doldrums
It seems nothing is ever perfect
The wind fills my sails

There is not time enough
Still the world stands waiting
Will I catch up
Will I arrive on time

Sunday, January 27, 2019

Together We aare One/ the sunday whirl -- poets united poets pantry

Together We are One

Like the pot that holds dinner
I am made of clay
Not by chance
Rather on purpose

What is that purpose I ask
Why would I be made of the same substance
As the mouse
That hides behind the refrigerator

The story goes
I am not separate but
Am one with all that is
I emerge from the puddle

Of my own confusion
I hear the beating of the drums
I feel for my pulse
And find the sound of the beating 

Is the sound of my own heart
Beating together with the pulse of the world
Round the house 
The children are playing

Red Rover, Red Rover
Won’t you to come over
The rusty hinge on the door
Complains as it opens and shuts

I stand wrapped in chains
That clink on the deck
The vents are so small
It is hard to breath

Standing in my stall
I hope someone comes
To care for me
To brush me

To fill my water bowl
To feed me
Knowing that I am he and he is me
Together we are one

January 27, 2019








Wordle  #388:      vents, chain, stalls

Clay, chance, purpose, mouse, story

Friday, January 25, 2019

A Knock On the Door/dVerse

A Knock On the Door

Awakened in the middle of the dream
Or was it a nightmare
How could it all happen in unison
Real life and dream

About to be caught
Dragged under the surface
The car careens off the road
A knock at the door

Wearing riot gear
Still early
Still dark
And yet it was not unexpected

Open the door
Welcome them in
Be sure to tell them
You are innocent of any wrong doing
It is a misunderstanding

January 25, 2019






Thursday, January 24, 2019

A Seeker of Words/imaginary gardens with real toads

A Seeker of Words

Why do you write?
Why I am just sure 
I have something to say
I may not know

But I still have something to say
Each one of us is unique
There will never be another 
Just like me…or you

Our story is unique
A little bit like someone else’s
But still since I am unique
My story must be unique

And my way to tell it
Must be unique
Never been told before
I welcome you in

Have a seat
And we will share our stories
Where to begin?
Maybe in the middle

Or maybe at the end
It hardly matters
My story is the same
I have only to tell it

I want to get it out where I can see it
Write it down,see all the mis-steps
And all the good things that have happened
I am a seeker

A seeker of words
When only the “right” word will do
Begin at the beginning
Say it all the way through

January 24, 2019

Wednesday, January 23, 2019

The Shed is Where I Keep Old Memories/dVerse

A Shed is Where I Keep Old Memories

I remember a shed
In my across -the-street-neighbor’s backyard
The little girls in the neighborhood
Would gather there and play cooking

There were old spices there
I wonder now, where they came from
Rosemary and thyme
And in our yard

Was an old chicken house
Where the woman next door
Used to keep her chickens
The old sheds

Were memories themselves
Still standing
Past their use…
Another neighbor

Had a old shed in his back yard
Kept garden tools there
And I remember a boy I dated…
And we kissed in the shed

In the family’s backyard
A shed where animals once lived
I have a small shed in my yard
All kinds of things stored there

Perhaps sheds are where we keep old memories
Past their usefulness
Folded neatly 
Stacked and forgotten

January 23, 2019






Global Warming/poets united midweek motif/ Global Warming

Global Warming

What can I say that hasn’t been said
By folks (scientists) much smarter than I
Wise words fall on deaf ears
Silent the world

Hold our breath
We wait to see
The air polluted
The rivers and seas

Unfit for life
We are responsible
Soiled our bed
And now we must lie in it

Look at each other
With blank stares
Now what is it we must do
Is there any salvation

For the children
Where will they go
How will they live
The bees are all dead

The plants won’t grow
Pox on your house
We ignore warnings
Life on earth is in peril


January 20, 2019





Tuesday, January 22, 2019

Forever/imaginary gardens with real toads

Forever

You said old or new
I think,…forever
Missing you
And yet…

It was important
For you to have your own path
Follow your own clowns
Time came too soon

I stepped back
And mourned each day
You were away
I have grieved your leaving

And have berated myself
For what I could not do
And I could not
Do it for you

I have to let you go
And this letting go
Happens everyday
Over and over

But my, have you changed by life
My teacher
My love 
My Son

We enter the fifth year
Of your leaving
And in some ways 
It seems it was yesterday

Footsteps in the hall
Your door closed
Your bed empty
Ripping a giant hole in this heart of mine

Grief so like an illness
Something you have to get through
Something that will be with you forever
Still takes some getting used to

January 22, 2019

Sunday, January 20, 2019

Let It BE/ poets united poets pantry -- the sunday whirl

Let It Be

Silent calls
A lonely world
Woven into the air
Despair everywhere


I pull the throw up
Cover my knees
The wind howls
Outside my door


Snow covers
Pebbles and trees
Transforms landscape
…and me

The world once wild
Now tamed
The roads paved
The grass grows in the yard

While we fertilize it
Cut it
Curious behavior
For which we should repent


There is no love without freedom
Just let it be
Who it is
And who it should be

January 20, 2019




Saturday, January 19, 2019

A Smile on Our Face/imaginary gardens with real toads


A Smile on Our Face

The destination is the same
For each of us
Bound for the “Promised Land”
So many questions unanswered

Not this one
We know where we are going
Moving forward
Until the day we die

So, it is up to us
To live the unforgettable life
Begin each morning
At dawn when the sun rises

Take a deep breath
Fill ourselves 
With the happiness 
Of the day

Until the last day
The day we die
Tied to the stake
A smile on our face

January 19, 2019


This weekend, Magaly uses a quote from Mary Oliver, who sadly died this week, to inspire us to write a new poem that “mustn’t be fancy”. We are encouraged to craft poetry that wastes no words.

I chose Mary Oliver's poem Sunrise.  The words are; die, bound, stake, unforgetable, dawn, breath and happiness.



















Thursday, January 17, 2019

Crypto's/imaginary gardens with real toads

Cryptids

Man’s imagination
Is without limits
When there is nothing to fear
He makes up something

So much in this world
He doesn’t understand
So much to fear
He gives it a dog’s head

The devil ‘s eyes of fire
Big feet to step on you
Some cryptids live in the forest
Some in the arroyos

Some live in the lakes
Some swim at sea
Man fears dark places
Man is small and weak

I suspect it is because 
Of the way man has treated
His fellow creatures
That he carries such fear
Of imaginary beasts

January 17, 2019





I Heard the Fog Horn on a Sunny Day/dVerse

I Heard the Fog Horn on a Sunny Day

I hold the shell to my ear
I listen
Will the sound of waves and wind
Be true

Could I find my way home
Comb the beaches
Pick up shells
Feel the sun on my shoulders

The sun bright
I cover my eyes
Memory creeps in
The little black dog

The “swimmer” dog
He would swim so far out
Only the sea gulls flying above
Marked the spot

Twelve pounds of black meat
Each day brought laughter
Gentle touches
Food from the sea

Was I really there
Or was it a dream
The sandals didn’t fit
One day you didn’t return

I heard the fog horn
On a sunny day
Humpty Dumpty fell
My world broken forever

January 17, 2019



Wednesday, January 16, 2019

Primal Rules/poets united midweek motif/ Life: Paradox and/ Or Balance

Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Life: Paradox And / Or Balance

 

 

Primal Rules

 

I have decided 

There are all kinds of rules

But “primal rules”

Are rules we learn from the earth

 

Perhaps first there is gravity

Gravity holds our feet to the ground

Keeps us from flying

Helps us to be grounded

 

Then there is value

Light to dark

Sunrise to sunset

Sunlight and shadows

 

Space seems important

Right from the beginning

We investigate the space

We find ourselves in

 

Then there is balance

If we lean too far to the right or left

We balance ourselves right away

Without balance/We fall down/Crash!

 

A lesson in beauty 

Is what is before us

And if we see it

Really see it

It is all that is needed

 

January 16, 2019

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Tuesday, January 15, 2019

Sad, Sad/imaginary gardens with real toads

Sad, Sad

I speak of sadness
In whispered tones
For so many things in life
Are judged to be sad

Disappointing
A goal not reached
Perhaps set too high
Who of us is reasonable, after all

Of the three children
Which would I choose?
To be sick… 
To die

Which of my friends
Would I have go first?
Which would be the hardest blow
Whose empty chair will hurt less

And yet…
The bud that blooms in the spring
Is more beautiful than ever before
The meal more satisfying

Each minute is dear to the heart
Because of missing you
Each sunrise more inspiring
Takes my breath away

Each sunset I long to keep
And long to share
It is the beauty after all 
That reminds me of you


January 15, 2019






Sunday, January 13, 2019

Transformation of White/poets united poets pantry -- the sunday whirl

Transformation of White

My world, as far as I can see
Dressed in winter white
Snow covered
Long icicles hang from down spouts

The wind wails no more
All is quiet
The storm over
Neither rain nor snow expected

Yesterday, I saw your footprints 
In the snow
You, a large white dog
I called your name

You stood your ground
I could not see your movements
And yet you disappeared
Into a white world

The roads glazed with ice
Travel on wheels dangerous
Winter a time of transformed beauty
Tomorrow will depend on the sun's warmth 

January 13, 2019

Saturday, January 12, 2019

Hollow/imaginary gardens with real toads

Hollow

Hollow is everything
Hollow is the snow
Hollow is white
A bell without a clapper

Rings hollow
I hear your voice
And it is hollow, too
A hollow man without a heart

I have heard of such a thing
A hollow story of echo
And it echoes back
A hollow sound

I find a shell on the beach
Pick it up
No one home
Hollow is a shell

A hollow shell
Left alone
Hollow is sand
Hollow is my home

January 1, 2019






Not Just A Cup

  Not Just a Cup       Southern born Not a tea drinker Always coffee For me   Although I often find  Bitter taste Of the dark brew A bit muc...