Category: Poetry

Poet… Why?

Why do you write in words and phrases that hide in dark obscurity.

Is writing plainly so unappealing?

Unless my mind short circuits are you less profound?

Is it because your search for strange bedfellows in metaphors makes you feel more like your imagined idea of poetry?

I would rather that your words conjure visions and not a puzzle to interpret falsly or incidentally incorrectly?

Don’t you want me to peck and find and gobble your meaning like birds hunting seeds among the tall grass, the pebbles and dust?

I don’t mind the work, but at least make it worth my while.

Poor Messed Up Fox

My fox was brand new

All shiny of hue,

‘Til I found it had puntured

The bottom of my shoe.

Unbeknownst to me,

I had walked a mile or two,

And scraped the poor thing,

‘Til it’s black and it’s blue.

When I Retired

This is it. The jumping off point.

The edge. The letting go. The possibilities. My first solo flight.

A toast to everything that held my hand; held me together; provided security.

But this is the time of whatever, whenever.

I’ll trust my wings, my heart, my desires.

Salud!

(PS: Written nine years ago today, I sat in a candlelit bar, having walked out of work for the last time. With a drink in hand, it was a dark and rainy day. I was alone in my reverie. Tears of joy, of fear, of the unknown? Looking back, I have no regrets.

Short-lived Era to Make Me New

Broken Dreams and Promises

1966… a baby in my back pocket.

I rode out on a wave never to return, at least not as before.

Looking for more than what was enough for those happy for the end of war.

Old enough to work, to make my own way, old enough to make my own mistakes.

A road less traveled, by I. Golden hair and flowered shirts, light shows, smoke filled rooms and poetry.

Walking barefoot in the parks, lying under the trees hoping there was more.

Dismayed by offerings of a world gone mad, finding it’s always been bad. How sad.

Yet joy was found in promises of change that never came. And pot to wake me up to possibilities and LSD to blow my mind.

To help me find a new way of imagining a new way of living.

While Lying in the Hammock

It’s just past noon on the summer solstice.

For days it’s been cool and raining.

Everything is just a bit damp.

While the temperature is climbing,

The hammock is calling.

I answer the call and lay down,

and I gaze upwards.

The sky is so blue it’s an impossible shade of purple.

The leaves are every shade of green,

From black where little light can reach,

Under the dense branches,

To chartreuse where the leaves shine against the sky,

Almost translucent where sunlight amicably tries to penetrate.

I think I’ll just lie here for a while.

After all, the warmth and beauty are mesmerizing.

I Just Want to Stay Home.

I’ve done alot. I’ve risked a lot. I’ve escaped narrowly alot. I’ve survived alot. And through it all, I have the scars to show for it.

Now, I just want to stay home.

I just want to be peaceful. I am done with adventure. I’m done with drama. I’m done with conversation. I’m done with contention. I’m done with fear. I’m done with succoming. I’m done with overcoming. I’m done with doing anything by the skin of my teeth.

I just want to stay home.

I don’t want to argue. I don’t want to win. I don’t want to be right. I don’t want to debate. I don’t want to do the research. I don’t want to tell you my point of view and I don’t want to know yours. I don’t want to convince you of anything and I don’t want you to try to convince me of anything.

I just want to stay home.

I don’t want to hear your voice as it becomes shrill. I don’t want to yell at anyone anymore. I’m not interested in your drama. I can’t help you. I can only take care of myself. I don’t want to give you advice and I don’t want to hear your advice to me.

I just want to stay home.

I’m not interested in traveling anywhere anymore. I’m not interested in observing other cultures or learning other languages. I don’t want to become saddened and heartbroken at the poverty and needless, needless fighting and war. I don’t want to observe cruelty to animals or to children or to old folks. I don’t want to witness genocide anymore. I don’t want to witness the senseless bombing of churches and hospitals and museums and neighborhoods.

I just want to stay home.

I don’t want to see islands of garbage in the ocean and the senseless beaching of whales and seals and other ocean life because of sonic vibrations created by ships, submarines, fishermen’s boats and exploration and drilling for oil. I don’t want to watch netfishing that destroys the bottom of the ocean and that kill sea creatures that they’re not even fishing for. I don’t want to observe the destruction of coral reefs and see ships and boats sunk to the bottom of the sea because of storms.

I just want to stay home.

I don’t want to go to zoos and see caged animals. I don’t want to see dogs and cats and other animals suffering because they’re unwanted. I don’t want to see photos or videos of animals that have been mistreated and are found under trucks and locked in basements and dying on a short chain out in the rain and the snow or left on the side of the road, pregnant or with a litter of babies. I don’t want to see farmed animals suffering being raised for human consumption in unthinkable conditions.

I just want to stay home.

I don’t want to continue to try to figure out why anyone at any time would create weapons of war: guns, bombs, poisonous gases, nuclear weapons that could wipe out our entire Earth and all of its species. I don’t want to think about why drugs are being developed that kill people. I don’t want to see drug addicts lying naked on the street or sleeping out in the rain. I don’t want to hear the news announce how many overdoses took place this weekend.

I just want to stay home.

I can’t understand why we have developed chemicals that we spray on our food and create GMO food stuffs that make us sick and ultimately kill us. I’m tired of hearing about farming practices, like monoculture, that are destroying our ability to feed ourselves. I don’t want to see anymore clear cutting and burning of forests that destroy habitat for the wild creatures that live only to eat and procreate. I don’t want our only option to be to eat farmed fish.

I just want to stay home.

I don’t want to hear about children killing other children in schools. I don’t want to try to figure out why automatic rifles are being sold to children. I don’t want to watch bullying. I don’t want to cry for children who are unclothed, starving, without love, right in our own neighborhoods.

I just want to stay home.

And the last thing I want you to tell me is that I need to rely on politics and politicians when that is the most corrupt of all systems in the world. There is only one exception to what is worse and that is to rely on religion. I don’t want to talk to you about religion or about your god or anyone else’s god/s. I will be the first to tell you that I enjoy myth and legend and fairy tales. But there is nothing good that will come of believing in any thing a or faith based religion. If that’s what you want to talk about, may I encourage you to just leave me alone.

I just want to stay home.

And I especially don’t want you to tell me that if all of this bothers me, I should do something about it. It bothers me yes, but I know that it is not for me or for you to carry the burden of the world on our shoulders. That’s why…

I just want to stay home.

Mother’s Day Daisies 2023

For my wedding day,

I carried the lovely garden variety daisy,

All dressed in white.

They’ve always been a favorite.

But the exuberant Gerber daisy,

Leaves nothing to be desired.

Color riot.

Beautiful bouquet of Gerber Daisies.

Held in Liminal Space

Portland remembering

This morning’s weather reminds me of when I was younger. It shows just how Portland I am.

It’s grey everywhere except for the explosion of some small Spring flowers. It’s cold. It’s raining but not pouring but it’s constant.

The wind is blowing. It’s blowing hard enough that I can hear the bells hanging on the porch.

The trees are still barren with just small buds of green showing. The exceptions are the Magnolia and Tulip trees that have full blooms, now drooping and dripping. The Japanese quince, stiff and thorny, is showing pink.

I walked the dog and I was reluctant to come back into the house. But Yum Yum was wet (her least favourite state) and ready for her treats.

Now, I’m sitting in my room and the rain is tapping on the windows. The big and old trees are swaying slightly against the wind.

I can hear the heater motor and see the fake fire inside my electric stove. Somehow warming.

The cat is sleeping on my bed so there’s no reason to make it up. She has made beautiful swirls in the blankets.

It’s very dim in my room and I don’t want to turn on any lights. I like this gloom and deep shadowed corners that are inviting and welcoming.

I think I will have a cup of tea and a little bit of dark chocolate and slices of the orange sitting in a ramen bowl.

I don’t miss the invasion of the bright rays of the sun that is hiding behind the charcoal clouds as they scud by, pushed along by the wind. There is a brightness in the far distant horizon where the clouds have thinned.

I might even doze a bit today. The gentle pitter and the patter of the rain are the perfect lyric and rhythm that can enduce slumber for any troubled mind.

I’m held in the arms of Portland weather and memories. Let the world go by. I’m not interested.