Poem the day… (2.22.17)

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away from the full moon
poetry loses its flow

poet’s words
stammer and jar

possible explanation:

connections from the heavens
tenuous,
kinetic as they are

and we

human in perception
with visions blurred,
limited words

not enough sleep

water

wine

or love.

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mourning in winter

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Take the path that is cleared, or
trampled snow?
I am not sure where either go
only
the general direction

stalks of bushes protruding
through pristine snow
like sentinels
say go

sun reflection
so
blinded
and slow

only beauty can be breathed

thoughts shallow in the background

shall someday be
as he
one flake of snow
in the earth’s
mittened hand.

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Sunday morning seven a.m.

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I wake with shards of my dream still
visible

until rolling over
smooshing my face into the pillow

then quickly onto my back because
remember: face planted in pillow causes wrinkles
and who needs those?

sun is shining in from the windows
I cover my face with the soft sheet
reach an arm over to turn on the radio

the news the weather some music
turn it off
face the world
let my face catch the sun

a few more minutes please in bed
some easy stretches
step onto the cold hardwood floor
but I’m happy for the feel of it under my feet

in the bathroom water cool splashed on my face
then weights and more weights and more
cool water to drink
shower with ah scented ginger soap
shampoo that doesn’t lather much

towels, two: hair and body, wrapped well
kettle on for tea, likely green
breakfast, hmmm, let’s see …
oatmeal yogurt and raspberries or
eggs and greens, or blueberry pancakes

since it is Sunday
church awaits as usual
new leaves are always possible
especially on warm sunny mornings
I confess I am now a fair-weather person
but only because my life was front loaded with storms.

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Absent the sound …

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She is in a photo
in small silver frame of roses
it’s all I have of her
and it’s fading.

In it she sits
gangly limbs askew
in the old apple tree I
helped her climb

white t-shirt
loose faded jeans
low Converse sneaks
wild curls but soft
and a softer smile

she’s been smiling softly
at me all these years

like she knows.

What does it say
about life
about mine
or anyone’s

how swiftly it may end
leaving only soft memories?

Her eyes were blue.

For years after I would hear
her sweet laughter

now I only feel it.

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In my childhood: one-stop shopping in frozen foods, or similar …

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when i found her cigarettes in the freezer
is when i realized
what we saw
and thought we knew
was not all
or accurate

and also:

who would hide anything in the freezer

when we were always
going in there
for our summertime juice pops made in tupperware forms
or the half-gallon of neapolitan ice-cream for birthdays
or bags of frozen peas to put on our wounds?

if you couldn’t numb the pain with frozen peas
you might need a cigarette

conveniently located
for efficient one-spot stopping.

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Flower shop on the corner . . .

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The flower shop
is on the corner between
the hair salon and the martini bar

the windows
always dressed to the nines
or elevens

like 5th Avenue
with full-time carpenter or two
building sets

gilt and black
behind clouds of flowers
wreaths for distinctive doors

soaring arrangements
architectural and spicy
can be grabbed to go

on the way home from
highlights cut and style
or dirty martini

walking the dog

mailing a love letter.

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Why some poems are beautiful . . .

 

imag1952

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Where is your angst
he asked
leaning forward in his chair
nudging his professorial spectacles upward
shaking a fist for emphasis
baring his teeth
perhaps spitting.

Angst? I have to have angst?

Being human
I have had angst in this life
with its tragedy and requisite woes
but I don’t always write of those
or from their place
don’t always fling such things from myself
or hurl them at others
in a fiery cathartic way.

What can I say?

Sometimes I want to feel

light

warm breezes that lift
the white curtains off the window sills
and rustle the leaves in the
adjacent river-birch trees

and I want to see 
light

the words mixed together
with the agility of a painter
capturing beauty
the sky
with its glorious mutability lit
amid colors so exquisite
the vivid sunrise sunset
even bruised
beginnings and endings as natural
as day
clouds wisping
gathering or flitting away

or the sea
soothing as its surf
draws in and pushes out
as vital as
my very breath

and sometimes I want to laugh

light
of heart

taste words
that are delicious
like linger and luscious
and likewise at times I need to
read to
see inside other beautiful souls
feel comfort
in knowing they are out there
out there in this world
where angst
could wrestle me to the ground
crush all that is kind and good
within me
but where I am conversely
contented
my spirits calmed and lifted

as I read Life’s beauty

in poetry.

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