A new summer

Tuesday, June 7th, 2011

after days without rain
the grass crackles
under my feet

~

dark shadows
flit over dry grass
and burning stone
in the bright heat

Friday, July 1st, 2011

wild strawberries
burst like blood
on fingers

~

berries
picked from
between the grasses
taste like
summer and sunshine

Short poems from September

Sunday, September 5th 2010

rain like snowflakes
in late evening light
glittering remnants of summer.


Thursday, September 8th 2010

Lined paper on the window
Wistful reflections
Of old thoughts.

Filled by Words

Inspired by some really great slam poetry I was listening to, this poem was originally supposed to be longer, but I never finished it.  I probably never will.  It was also never rewritten or edited at all.  But, here it is in all it's rough and unfinished glory!

The words…

They wriggle underneath my skin,

Fill up the cavity of my chest

Empty, before now.

Fill me up and make my fingers tingle

Eyes closed

Awaiting the continuation of the dreaming world

Knowing

That sometimes the truth is too big to hold inside for long.

The remnants are left in the cracks on my lips

Lips that those words never passed through.

Leaving instead the same way they arrived

Breaking through my skin,

Trickling down my flesh like rain

While the sky is clear.

And my fingers click

Click away at the dusty keys in a desperate

Hopeful spill of click-click-clicking sound.

Knowing it was all gone long before I knew to reach

Rain

Friday, July 9, 2010

It’s been raining all day.
the Sky
(tired of dripping sweat,
Burning pavement,
Crackling grass,
Sprawling out-
Heat.)
Opens arms wide to drench the ground
(my face, eyes turned up to the sky, feet in puddles, a thousand rivers running over—
down, curving, trickling, dripping—
my skin)
For the first time in days, the temperature drops.

My poetry travel log from my trip to Gaspe...

Tuesday, May 18th, 2010

Tree farms pass
some old,
overgrown with
Nature.
a woman waters her
Green Farmhouse
while guitars play
wistfully,
from the stereo.

~

Out of the mist
Soft mountains rolling
Toward the sea

~

lights fall,
glassy,
as we breath deeply:
searching for the Ocean.

~

I sit on a worn comforter
Banged up old motel
And listen to my sister's laugh ringing
Joyous
Through the open window.
---

Wednesday, May 19th, 2010

Finally
low tides rocks stretching-
Home.
salt water on my feet and face:
Doubly blessed.

~

smooth
rough
sharp
slimy
slip!
hard
soft
prickly;
The world passes by underneath my feet.

~

A boardwalk
A small spider
And the sound of waves.
I scribble quietly in my notebook.

~

The ocean speaks loudly
Salt on my tongue
Salt in my veins

Always changing: constant
Beats in my chest
Beats on the shore

Cold heart never distant
Soles in the forest
Soles in the sand

Numb feet baptized in white water.

~

Looking out the car window
Eyes flicking lazily.
Suddenly-
A waterfall!
Tumbling down the rocks
Gone in an instant.

Tuesday, May 25th, 2010

A cloud landed
Softly,
On the top of a mountain
Slid down onto the road
And enveloped our car.
Muffled, we drove through.

~

I breath deeply
the water
in my bottle
smells of ocean
even though
we've left the waves
far behind us.

~

remembering a day
when the sky landed on the beach
to play in the waves
that stretched long fingers
over the sand

~

three generations
we stood, foreheads pressed
against the cold window
watching the lightning zag
the lighthouse flash
and the whitecaps crash.
the roar of the ocean
held us close
in the cozy hotel room.

~

Driving through the city
(Oppressive air
And crumbling pavement)
when, suddenly-
a bird flits by
lit golden by the setting sun
to disappear down an empty street.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Black bird
Sits on a branch
Orange leaves opening

Risk

Tuesday, April 7, 2010

why?  I ask

watching from behind the blinds

as someone rides by

blocking out the world with two small earbuds.

 

I know the certainty of holding back

like the boy on the bicycle

staying hidden

content in containment of Self

risk gets forgotten.

pushed carefully to the back of the closet

where I don't have to look at it

and can almost

almost-

forget it's existence.

 

dancing in confinement

starts to feel like freedom

after a while.

 

but risk is always there

even when I close my eyes tightly

thinking of warm places

and sweet darkness.

I feel the pull

longing

for something spicy

dangerous.

sparkling eyes and bitten lips

strange streets and breathless laughter.

distant

dreamlike.

reality seems so mundane, sometimes.

Life something that happens

on the other side of the glass:

not for me.

But…

  

yesterday,

I opened the door

just for a moment:

the sunshine smelled like adventure.

Friday, March 12,  2010

Cinnamon
On orange flower painting
Spicy and bitter

(Forgot to post this earlier)

Friday, February 5, 2010

In a light-filled room
I pour amber maple syrup
On a warm brown waffle
And think about life.

Broken Pavement

Thursday, March 11, 2010

To find the secret way

Beside the voices-

Whispering of heretics

Traitors.

Mother Culture holds us close.

We must

Walk the winding paths

Away from the highways,

Sidewalks,

Sticky-hot asphalt.

Where:

Blueberries grow

And you can eat the cattails

Waving in the passing breezes.

Avoid the-

Institutions,

Corporate

Long grey hallways.

I’ll find the old buildings

Reclaimed by-

Love

Life

Life

And camp,

By a stream that fish still follow.

While I watch beauty escape in-

Ruins.

Finally,

Truly free

The stars will find me.

My Poem a Day project went on hiatus for a while.  From February 8th to March 10th I wrote only one poem.  However, I have now resumed the project!

Monday, February 15, 2010

Cobwebs criss-cross
My window
Dust gathering solemnly
Along the sticky strands.

Monday, February 8, 2010

finally,
silence in a warm room
I blink slowly,
rest.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

warmpth and happiness
laughter 'round a table in a bright-lit room
hot tea
sipped with smiling mouths

Saturday, February 6, 2010

The low sun
Flashes
Flickers
Through the trees
Red Light
In the space behind my eyes
Telling stories
From a billion years
Of watching
The spinning planets.

Knowing
Brushes past me
With wonder
In a blinding flash
I shut my eyes
My heart beats,
And we drive on.


~

two sisters
lean close together
shining white
alone in a field of brown bark

~

Suddenly-
a cloud of birds
sharp wings outlined by grey sky

~

bare sculptures
painted branches
twist in praise of the sunlight

~

The eyes of a house
Watch us,
Disspassionately,
As we drive by

~

out of the fading daylight
we drive into the shadows
of heaped-high stormclouds
the sun shines bright farewell
as it fades into greyness
winks,
then disappears.
darkness falls.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

excitement bubbles
suitcase bulges
two days until we leave!

Slippery

Monday, February 1, 2010

Do you remember when we used to catch tadpoles?
Their bodies slimy smooth and soft
Tails strong.
Remember when we'd let them go,
After a little while?
They'd dart away quickly
Into the murcky shadows
And we'd go home
Spattered in mud
Smelling of pond scum and fresh air and
Happiness
Do you remember, now?

Sunday, January 31, 2010

The quiet whirr of the refrigerator
A bruised apple on the table
And the salty taste of blood on my tongue
All is still.

Saturday, January 30, 2010

Encased in a warm glow
I look outside
And smile at the glistening snow

Friday, January 29, 2010

The setting Sun
Turns grey slush
For a moment,
Golden.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

in the shower
the frosted window
glows muted grey
old snow
and tired sky
then-
the sun breaks through
for a moment
the drops on the glass pane shine