Faith, Fascination, Fun

* * *

100530

FAITH IN THE OUTCOME

Duck, the second of the pair,
was quacking mid-road
near the body of its mate.

It did not retreat when I approached
to remove the other’s body
or even when vehicles whisked by.
When I left, it followed me—
by then, we were both quacking.

The pavement was hot,
so I walked us toward a patch
of shade and grass.
There I sat, cross-legged,
while duck nibbled weeds,
and sampled me with its bill—
taking great interest in shoes
and rings—till it eventually
settled on the grass for a nap.

I considered our options.

No point in delaying.
I rose and quickly walked away,
trusting in nature and instinct
to make the proper resolution,
not daring to look back—
until, of course, I did.

Duck was quacking mid-road.


100529

EVERYTHING

Wow.


UNIVERSALL

Each. All.
Every. One.

Within, without
and under the sun—
every doing
is a being-done.


100528

PREP TALK

“Work. Work out.”
That’s my code.
Time to go; gotta carry my load.
Here’s where the rubber
meets the road.

Can’t stay here
like a big fat toad.
Gotta get my butt on the road.
Here’s where the blubber
meets the road!


UMBRELLA (for Lisa)

Today was only foggy—
but better safe than soggy!


BUSHED

Feeling unergetic today.

(That’s a real word;
I’m too tired to make one up.)


100527

TO BELIEVE, BELIEVE

The story
of the mustard seed
is somehow mustard-treed.

Would you believe—
a mustard tree?
Never seen one!
Can it be?

There is one thing
I believe:
it takes faith,
that mustard-seed creed.


BE-LOVE-ED

The rising of the land.
The sinking of the sea.
The epoch of each creature;
its brief ascendancy.

Gaia, what have I to offer
but rough humanity?
As long as you are loved,
it needn’t be by me.


SEEK AND BE FOUND

What is it that you seek?
...To end, begin.
You are made in likeness.
...Look within.
You are the truth you speak.
...You are the answer you seek.


NOT YOUR KEEPER

Pardon me,
dear sir, dear ma’am—
do you take me for a fool
fool enough to give a damn?


LITTLE BO PEEP
AND SHEPHERD BOY

“Your debt is due,
but I’ll steer clear
of lambs and rams.
May I take a ewe?”

“Hardly, ma’am—
that will not do!
Frankly, my dear,
I don’t give a dam.”


CANADIANS

Geese ahead, and flying low.
I have yet to see them, though;
fog is rising from the lake.

I stand alert at water’s edge,
as the fog turns more opaque,
to wait the coming of the wedge.

No sooner do the geese appear
than their wedge must split or veer.

With whoosh of wings,
they rise instead,
passing barely overhead,
startled at the sight of me
flapping arms in mimicry.


[ASIDE: I took liberties with the truth.
The geese saw me from a greater distance;
their wedge was already broken, and it passed
on either side of me, but barely overhead.
The wing-whoosh sound was impressive.
Of course, the most prominent aspect of the
fly-by was the sound of their honking; I hope
you supplied it.]


100526

AINA NANI

If age is just a state of mind,
one I can embrace,
let mine be Hawaii
or some equal state of grace.


CAREER

If nursery rhymes don’t warp you
toward life as a poet,
cartoons might, to your sorrow.

I trace my happy affliction to
Popeye’s cartoon segment,
"Hair today. Goon tomorrow."


HI SIGN

There’s nothing
regarding a poem
that you ought to do.

Each one's just a pointer
to the poet inside of you.


OBSESSION

First you pursue.
Then it does you.


FAME? ACCLAIM?

Thank you, no,
I’m not quite ready
for adventure
half so heady.


100525

POEM PLACE

A patch of white
serene as snow
beckons, teases
as it pleases—
and it pleases
me to know
a patch of white
serene as snow.


SCRAM!

Go away—
go find yourself
some other prey.

Go away—
or I’ll get rough;
you’re not so tough.

Go away—
you’ve scavenged
on me long enough!


A DASH MIGHT DO

May I use
a comma, momma?
I hate to be behol’en,
even to a semicolon.


BUMFUZZLED

If there’s a school
for being old,
in it I’m a baby
looking for a nanny:
a mixed-up fool—
feeling like a girl,
acting like a lady,
looking like a granny.


I DIDN’T WANT ANY PART OF IT

You don’t want to know.

There on the page where I smashed it
are tick juices—dried, of course—
some body parts, and a strand of cat hair.
The smash took the shape of a flea.
(I said you didn’t want to know.)

Now you know.
How would you have handled it?


WHAT?

I find what I see.

What do I see?
What I’m looking for.

What am I looking for?
What I see—
familiar things and surprises.

What else is there?


END OF
HOSTILITIES

Surely
there will
come a day
when we can meet
as mates and play.


TRIBUTE

As from this life
I do depart,
I salute
my faithful heart.


INVENTORY
OF A HALF-HOUR

striped mushroom parasols

woodpecker riddling a power pole
(just keeping in practice?)

first Cherokee rose of spring

rock? dead squirrel? shoe

deformed Queen Anne’s lace
really another type of flower

bulldozer parked in woods

hidden meadow

shoe mate


RALLY TALLY

Just as the task force
was about to collapse
from the exhaustion of
negotiating difficult topics
and diverse opinions,
it narrowly averted
both delusion and demise:
it came to its consensus.


DEAL

I think of life as a poker game
(people, places and things—
especially ideas and insights—
these are the cards).
I’m always trading up.


[UNTITLED]

Even when it rains,
you worry over ducks and frogs,
not to mention lakes, seas, bogs.

[Twitter challenge issued by @MyWordWizard:
flesh out the opening “Even when it rains, you. . .”]


SKIES CLEARING

Kokopeli serenading a cactus;
two white elephants
with trunks entwined;
a big-lipped moose
riding a hippopotamus—
yippee-i-o!
Also—beyond the far hills,
mountains of snowcapped rubble.
And all I had to do was look up.


100524

YOUR PROBLEM

Just because you
contributed to it
doesn’t mean you
can’t ask for help.


JOURNAL

Reading back,
my life appears to be made up
of intertwined recurrent themes—
various animals appearing
or demising near roadways;
reactions to solar, lunar
and household events;
weather;
existential, psychospiritual
and literary musings;
discovery, frustration and fun.
Not bad.


* * *

Alien Seditions

* * *


100523

THE POSSIBLE DREAM

Imagination or reality
(what I’m enamored of)?

How everything—
everything!—
only offers love.


SPRING THRILL

Window open.
Day borning.
Warm under covers
on a cool morning.


100522

NO RETREAT

Enlightenment rebirths us—
each insight, a debut;
each last exhale of old life,
the first inhale of new.


100521

DIFFERENT DATE,
DIFFERENT FATE

Evicted by rain,
worms mounted the roadbed
yesterday
and headed north—
or simply traveled in tandem
away from where they’d been.

I ferried them across.

Today’s refugees
are being escorted by a crow
to a different destination.


[TIDBIT]

Yesterday,
hawk in small tree.
Today, two hawks.


100521

COUNT ME IN

Ten million people are writing
(ten million people or more),
all wanting your attention
(ten-million-one or more).


ABOUT MY CAT

To my touch,
she was at first resistant,
so I took care—
was gentle and persistent.
Now she comes to my caress;
in fact, she is insistent.


CHORES

There’s nothing like
having something to do
to make you want to do
something else.


DEATH’S DEMEANOR

Will it be—
a long surmise?
a quick surprise?

or, as I suspect—
some grand disguise?


CLOWN

I thank God
for sight and smell,
and sound,
and sense—

but, most of all,
for irreverence.


UNFIT FOR SERVICE

Would a poet laureate
write about snot,
or boogers or cooties?
I think not!

Well, cross that off
my list of ambitions—
I have too many alien seditions.


THE WAY OF PLAY

My work
is as a poet
and is,
as it should be,
a work
to work aversive—
a work of truancy.


TAUNTRESS

My muse
is showing off tonight,
strutting her strange stuff—
daring, daring, daring me
to say, enough, enough!


100520

I AM GOING TO THE ZOO (for Lauren)

What I say is truly true:
I have nothing better to do.
I am going to the zoo.
To the zoo — Woo hoo! Woo hoo!!!


100519

ANTS IN YOUR PANTS

Spring rains
have driven ants inside
seeking places to abide.

They’re made to move—
and don’t move slowly.
They’ll hop a toe and take a ride,
then mountaineer a person’s hide.

The lowly ant
is not so lowly!


100518

WRESTLING

Pain has taken a
toe-hold on my body—
well,
a thumb-lock.


100517

THE BETTER PART

Martha—Mary
(prosaic—poetic, earthy—airy).

One weighted with work,
when work would wait.

One who chose a buoyant fate.


100516

BRITISH ACCENT

My partner's in the kitchen
making a pot of tea.

I'd applauded his suggestion:
"taking a spot of tea."


* * *

Confetti

* * *


100515

WRITER
WORKSHOP

Rain
stops
(now and then)
its patter;
birds,
their chirping;
writers, too,
their chirping pens.


ROLE WITH
THE PUNCHES

I am the writer,
the recorder,
the observer.
Clout? I doubt.

She—let it be—
is the teacher.


PEONIES (for Carrie)

Why peonies?

Why today
white ruffled peonies—

in her email,

in our remembrances
of kleenex flowers
on bobbie-pin stems,

in those two faded flowers on display
at that bookstore counter,

in the first poem encountered now
in Mary Oliver’s book?


[ASIDE: Inspired by a Twitter comment.]


BACK-TO-BARK

Every day is an experiment:
a reaching out
to whatever is reaching back.

This day’s experiment:
place my back to the bark of a tree,
spine to spine,
as close as we can get
and be.


MEDIUM, MESSAGE

Paper is a pleasure
to brush against,
to stroke,
to rub between fingers
until it pop-pop-pops.


CONFETTI

the look of wonder
on an eighty-year-old face

my fat pen
in use again

when it’s given right, let it be

that black line of cloud,
so un-menacing
in retreat


[ASIDE: Leftover bits from writing exercises]


100514

LEARN ME

sights and wonders
places to go

tell me
teach me
take me—
share and show

take me
tell me
teach me—
I so want to know


100513

SCAREDY

I love it
(find it quite exciting)
when lightning blast
and thunder crash
put every cat in hiding.


100512

TRANSIENTS

Thoughts—
catch, then hold them?
No net is that fine.

Thoughts are not me—
are not even mine.


100511

HOW THESE THINGS WORK

It wasn’t even a job offer,
just a statement of pay parameters
and notice of further applicant scrutiny.

I was the applicant.

The pay was low, the commute
and hours long, and the work—well,
unenchanting to someone else
I knew, who knew.

I’d been spoiled.
Two months earlier, I had interviewed
with the company for the job—
the one I really wanted.
But nothing had come of that.

I contrasted the two scenarios to my husband,
a multi-tasker who continued browsing the web,
scanning emails, and checking phone messages
as I spoke. Then he turned to me with a smirk.

“What?” I asked, irritated.

“You need to know how these thing work,”
he coached, handing me the phone.
“Call for you. It’s the company.”


THE MAGICAL KINGDOM

Serendipity.
Wish fulfillment.
Placebos.
Self-fulfilling prophecies.
Superstitions.
Delusions of power.

Beware of magical thinking,
children, artists, and
dreamers are cautioned.

But think about it:
isn’t all thinking magical?


OPTIONAL

Take
an ordinary
sentence;
break it into bits;
run it
down the page
and, voilà!
a poem
(title optional).


100510

SUN STROKE OF LUCK

After an afternoon sunbath,
I moved to a set of worn
west-facing wooden steps and
continued warming myself there.

Close by,
yellow-headed
dandelions bloomed

The nearest caught my attention.
While I stared, completely absorbed,
background greenery
went glittery, then monochrome
(black, white, silver, gray)
as the blossom intensified
its yellow—like a radiant sun
against a lucent nighttime sky.

How did I chance
to witness that?


* * *

Mother's Day & Oddities

* * *


100509

WHAT’S IN A NAME (for Mary Lee)

Jo is her middle name
and she came to prefer it.

Jo,
chosen by her mother,
when her mother was a girl.

Jo ,
for dear one, beloved,
“John Anderson, my Jo”.

Jo,
the mother-gift of mother-love
to an entire family,
for each person knows, “You are
my dear one, my beloved, my Jo.”

[ASIDE: Mother's Day poem derived from a self-obituary
writing exercise conducted this week by Karen Zacharias,
author of "Will Jesus Buy Me A Double-Wide?:
Cause I Need More Room for My Plasma TV"]


100508

SELF, NON-SELF

One a horse, ranging wide.
One a rider, along for the ride.

Each awake to own.
Each asleep to other.

One will never get out.
One, though it may have tried,
will never get inside.


100507

SHEEPISH

The sheep were sheep.
Some would feed,
some would sleep,
and some would sleep
very deep... counting sheep.

[ASIDE: Wisdom House challenge on Twitter:
Create a work beginning with the words,
“The sheep were… “]


ALARM

The sheep were screaming,
but no one could hear.

The wind was calm.
The day was clear.
The shepherd was absent;
at least, couldn't hear.

The sheep were screaming,
but no one could hear—
no one, that is,
except what drew near.

[ASIDE: Wisdom House challenge on Facebook:
Create a work beginning with the words,
“The sheep were screaming… “ Facebook didn’t
truncate the instructions.]


100506

YOU CALLED? (For Denise)

"Boo-hoo!
Had it. Lost it.
Now I want it back.
Lost my mojo;
lost the knack.
Want my mojo back!"

"Yoo-hoo!
Mo' Jo? Here's Jo,
ready and at hand.
You want mo' Jo?—
that's just grand!
Glad I'm in demand!

[ASIDE: Response to a Facebook comment.]


100505

THOTS

shld i hv bot
what i sot?
what i got
was not so hot—
thats why i fot,
but all i wrot
came 2 not.

[ASIDE: Amused by some
Twitter condensations of words.]


100504

NOW THAT’S A MEDIOCRE POEM

It’s so hard to keep up with a quota;
to resign to the mediocre,
to short-change the more promising.
But without the quota,
without the mediocrity,
no promise would be realized.

[ASIDE: This is how poems often start out,
before editing. I think this one may be beyond hope.]


* * *

Cheese and Crackers

* * *


100503

RETICENT

The neighbor’s garden
is at my disposal.

I feel richer in what I don’t take
than in what I do.

Is there a cure for this?


LITTLE HOLES

When the bread has little holes
and hasn’t been soaked overnight,
I dip each slice quickly and put it
in the pan. Then I spoon-feed the
excess egg mixture slowly and gently
over the pores of its upper surface.
By the time I’m done spooning, it’s
ready to be flipped anyway. Some-
times fleshing out a poem is like that:
lingering attentively, filling in gaps.


100502

NATURE WALK NATURE

I do the thing
to be alone;
to think, or not;
and, as I roam,
to breathe fresh air—
breathe freely too.

What will change,
if I’m with you?


[ASIDE: The syntax is wrong,
but I don't like "What would change"
or "when I'm with."]


100501

ENABLER

When your cat pees
on your bed or rug,
you clean things up.
What else can you do?

Then your cat pees
(uncontrite and smug)
in that same place
the moment that you’re through.


100430

[CHALLENGE POEMS]

Take a newspaper article and black out words
to leave a coherent poem of the remaining words
in their original sequence. I tried this twice.


GRANDMOTHERS

The author said,
"I fell wildly in love with this child."

Completely unprepared for this new role,
she made plans to write a memoir
of not just her own experience
but those of other writers;
all the hidden pleasures and perils
of being a grandmother.

She wanted it to be true,
convinced that all baby boomers
are traveling in uncharted waters
as grandparents.

If there's anything she's learned,
it's this: "You need to be supportive
and keep your mouth shut."


NEW ROLE

Author speaks Sunday
about her reaction
to the birth of her first granddaughter.

"Completely unprepared,
heartbroken, furious, devastated."

Asked to write an essay
about being a grandparent,
she didn't change names or anything.

"It provoked feelings in me,
not all of them charitable.
There's something scary
about being a grandparent."

Copies will be available for purchase
at the Sunday event.


100429

P.M. POEM

Are you that overwhelmed?
Has it lost its allure?

(A near-midnight start
for this pome du jour.)


100428

HEALTH-FOOD SLACKERS

Cheese and crackers,
cheese and crackers,
cheese and cheese,
and cheese and crackers.

Fruits and veggies have no backers
in this house of cheese and crackers;
have no home among these slackers.


100427

EVERYDAY POET

even I
of privileged
eye
often fail
to see:

the ease
the deep
the friendly

of the common


100426

TEXAS SPICE

Poorly-painted red words
on poorly-painted white boards
advertise a roadside stand:
"jams" "jellies" "peaches" "tomatoes"

The largest sign recommends:
"RELISH"
"SALSA"

Thanks to a stint in Texas, I do.


[ASIDE: On this one, Fay Jean Royce commented:
"An Arkie lass with Texas sass!"]


100425

THINGS

In your vicinity,
at your approach,
things shift.

If alert,
you may notice
a flutter of wings,
a scurrying,
a sudden splash.

Further ahead,
the more sensitive,
shy, and subtle
have already taken
their leave, leaving only
a toe-track,
a scent,
a broken twig.

Further yet,
other things—possibly—
disappear so quickly
and thoroughly
we don’t even suspect
they exist.


100424

NO ACCOUNT

What have I really done
for this world;
what have I really done?

Whom have I saved or salved
in this world;
whom, when, why—
and what from?


100423

GOING TO POT-BELLY

“Do you think your skin
holds your innards in?”

“Fat chance it does—
because my face has turned to scowls and jowls;
because each thigh’s the size my waist once was;
because my upper arms (once like a girl’s)
now flap just like a flying squirrel’s.

Do I think my skin
holds my innards in?

Not one bit, because—
I have witnessed tears and boobies drop.
Plus, my belly slops over undie tops.”


100422

AMEN TO THAT

As I take this food, I choose:
health, delight, and gratitude.


100421

ATTENDANCE

Three;
three to learn.

One to teach.

One to observe;
one to learn
to teach.


* * *