Thursday, November 28, 2013 - An Acrostic Poem

The silence of the morning
has a centered stillness all its own.
As the sun breaks the horizon,
nature greets the day with birdsong,
kindling a gladness of spirit
soaring above the worries of the past.
Gaining a softer perspective,
I sit quiet
vacating my mind of what was,
inviting the grace of what is,
nestled safe and comfortable and
grateful for this day.

Happy Thanksgiving!


Random Wisdom: W. B. Yeats - Perception

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” ~ W. B. Yeats 


Dinner at the Inflight, December 12, 1998

Crumpled, tattered,
and crusted with dirt,
the letter trembles as I read it
to my attentive old friend
sitting across the table.

Concluding, I ask him
why it's continually rejected.
I speculate--
it's simply too straightforward,
too short, or just too plain.

He shakes his head and smiles,
taking the letter from my hand.
Then, folding it gently
and carefully tucking it
into his left breast pocket,
he tells me it's time
he hold it for safekeeping.

Mag 194

Happy 15th, Greg. It is my hope that by December 12th you will be seeing well enough to find this and read it for yourself... again.


Retail Dreaming

Weeknights and Saturdays
stuck at Levine's
making less than four dollars an hour.
Counting buttons,
sorting ribbon,
and lost in Butterick pattern books.

Inspired by: Diversionary Writing #116


Haiyan

First wind
than water rushing
sixteen feet high in fists
to smash the city of Tacloban.
The ocean unrelenting
surged to take the children--
to rip them from their parents arms
and wash them out to sea.

Reading of the carnage
from the comfort of my home
proves almost as unbearable
as the stench of rotting victims
trapped under heaps of what once was--
one daughter, innocent
and impaled,
pleaded with her clinging mother,
"Ma, just let go. Save yourself."


For a list of links to help those affected by Typhoon Haiyan please click here.
May their suffering be comforted.


Le pléadáil chun na bhflaitheas (A plea to heaven)

Bracing for yet another onslaught,
I face the fierce wind
with teeth bared
and broadsword drawn.

Slicing though the shadows of can't,
gutting doubt, I wield the blade
with guttural rage--
screaming for the heavens to hear me
and stopping short of nothing but
the unabashed demand
for mercy.


Inspired by the music: Enter The Haggis - Lancaster Gate


Degas Debunked - inspired by Edgar Degas, ‘Dancer Adjusting her Shoulder Strap’, c. 1895-96

The Photograph 
betrays the bones
of what lies beneath
a pastel's peaceful pose.

The master, with time
and colored chalk,
breathes life
back into the dance.

Written from image prompt: Mag 193


A Door Ajar

Having swallowed the river,
I dive into dark water
to surface with the sun--
ever uncertain if
I face the dusk or dawn.

Inspired by: Diversionary Writing #115


Random Wisdom: Rumi - Balance

“Your hand opens and closes, opens and closes. If it were always a fist or always stretched open, you would be paralysed. Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding, the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated as birds' wings.” ~ Rumi, Essential Rumi


Le flutter de Juliette

A stolen glance fills
the cavern of her stomach
with feathers,
tiny wings beating fierce--
the friction blazing
an exquisite flush
of innocence.


Inspired by two sources: First (and most appreciated), Sir Charles' poem "Butterflies within" and second, Pibgorn by Brooke McEldowney who is currently running Romeo and Juliet as a comic strip in his usual beautiful (albeit slightly twisted) fashion. Thank you gentlemen. :)


Donning the Vertical Stripe

Wondering when work became the priority,
into the closed door I was prying open
walking ass first
I'm thrown in reverse,
Band-aiding the gushing unfixable.


Inspired by the question: What if everything in the world were backwards? What would that mean to you? How would that look? How would it work?

So... I originally wrote this the other way around and reversed the lines for it to be read backwards. ;)


Poets on Parade

Revelling in some kind of medieval
hippy procession of electric guitars,
beating drums, and blowing horns,
they dance in bright hues
of blues and yellows,
lime green and mandarin orange--
frantic as bees,
confident and lively
and daring the world
to dismiss their weirdness
and to try to deny
their existence.

Inspired by: Frank Zappa & The Mothers of Invention - Who Needs The Peace Corp (Instrumental version)


Random Wisdom: Coco Chanel - Success/Failure

“Don't spend time beating on a wall, hoping to transform it into a door.” ~ Coco Chanel


Quilting Needles

Log Cabin
Brunswick Star
King's Crown
Jacob's Ladder

An heirloom made of many pieces,
built for warmth
and comfort, sends instead
short painful shocks
like a cheap electric blanket.


Inspired by: Diversionary Writing #114


A Promise Kept

  Post-it® Poem from April 30th on a 3x3 note. And that's it for this year! :) Thanks for following along...