Sudden Easter storm
buries the garden in snow.
There will be no resurrection today
Perhaps tomorrow
or later in the week.
National Poetry Month
NaPoWriMo – Day #11
Today I am cleaning closets.
I am the archaeologist
of my own life,
of my family.
I sift through layers and remember.
There is the High School Era
with my kids’ athletic medals
solo and ensemble ribbons
musical programs
home burned CDs
report cards and reports
dried and crumbling prom flowers
and so many pictures
of those brave, innocent faces
with a knowing in their eyes
that wasn’t yet beaten or
swindled out of them
that they would change the world
and the fresh young bodies
barely able to be still
long enough
for the snap of the camera
The Elementary School Era
with exuberant little-kid-bright crayons drawings
rippled watercolor paintings
ribbons for history day projects
and science fair projects
and some of the projects themselves
special stones
random game pieces
lopsided coil pots
and handmade cards
ending with “I LOVE YOU”
And photos that squeeze my heart –
smiles with missing teeth
and now-dead pets
first days of school
birthday parties
sledding and swimming
and sitting with grandma and grandpa
Then there is evidence
of the big extinction
when my mom
and later my dad
died.
There are two
black and white plaid bags
from the funeral parlor
four years apart,
but each filled with cards and notes
a slim, white prayer book
a guest book
a silver cross
and a bill of sale.
And that’s a far as I can dig today.
NaPoWriMo – Day #9
This is just a bit of foolishness in a time of grave issues and serious problems.
There’s pandemonium at the zoo
in streets and at the school –
all over!
Large yellow llamas have clipped
across the street
stopping traffic, standing
withers to withers in protest.
They have been fleeced
and want sweaters and scarves
as recompense.
Next, they will march
on the yarn and craft shops.
The tigers have busted out too.
They’re capturing circus folk
and audience members
with their bare paws –
or rather tiger paws.
These tigers are a cagey lot,
putting the people behind bars
and training them
to balance on balls
and jump through flaming hoops.
And every night the tigers
throw raw tofu through the bars
to feed their captives.
The school has been flooded
and taken over by flounders.
They insist on
an education to prepare them
for the future.
They have chased
the students away
and put the teachers
into glass tanks
in the back of the rooms
for the fish to observe and care for.
They hope to teach responsibility
to the fish students
by caring for the teacher-pets.
The pandas are out too.
Fed up with a black and white existence
they want more colorful lives.
So the pandas have collected dye
and are jumping, rolling,
and generally cavorting through
vats of all colors.
When they’re finished,
they’re going to the courthouse
to take over.
They will be bear police
bear judges, and bear lawyers.
Because pandas know
the world is not all black and white.
There’s pandemonium at the zoo
in streets and at the school –
all over!
NaPoWriMo – Day #8
I sit in a gallery of eyes
all watching me fail.
Pinned to a cork board,
I hang in empty time,
waiting
Small worries
chew at my brain,
crawl under my skin,
making me itch
The thing I forgot
is haunting me,
taunting me.
I try to close my eyes
and disappear,
but even though I’m mad
it doesn’t work for me.
NaPoWriMo – Day #7
It’s gray and foggy this morning
but the birds are still insisting
we get up and face the day.
Otis, my Jack Russell terrier,
is blind;
has been since he was a pup.
He’s learned where things are
through his other senses.
He goes out in the mornings
and feels for the sidewalk
to lead him back to the house.
There are four steps
up to the front door.
But sometimes the cat
sits on the steps and blocks his way.
He knows the layout
inside the house,
but sometimes
when I come home from work,
or someone knocks at the door,
he gets so excited he loses his bearings
and runs into a door frame
or a piece of furniture.
He hears the morning birds calling
and perks up;
he wags his tail
and wriggles his body
ecstatically,
then flops over for a belly rub.
He doesn’t know
it’s a depressing, gray day.
NaPoWriMo – Day #6
There is
a single bud
on my Christmas cactus.
Today it opens
showing me
how to be brave
and joyful.
NaPoWriMo – Day #5
4-5-20
The dead have
their collective hand
on my shoulder
I can feel the pressure
of their words
in the back of my throat
See them gathering
in the shadows behind my eyes
Feel them crowding
my heart
They whisper unkept promises
and lament unfinished lives.
And now time unravels
before them –
an eternity of regret
Another day, another poem. I’m really a little ray of sunshine lately. One of these days I’ll post something optimistic again, honest.
NaPoWriMo – Day #4 Out Foxed
Three foxy fates
stand and wait
guarding the pandemic gate
First, Fever Red
straps you in bed
She pounds a beat inside your head
Then Breathless White
steals your might
and seals your labored lungs up tight
Then Deathly Black
knocks you back
takes your soul, leaves your body slack
These fates are ruthless and badass;
unscathed from COVID, none shall pass
This is for NaPoWriMo and The Sunday Muse. Image by Anatasiya Dobrovolskaya.
NaPoWriMo – Day #3
Between the clouds
and the ground
and the leafless trees
I see 12 different
shades of gray
As dusk begins
to settle
the daytime
folds in upon itself
Without sun
or moon
in sight
there are no shadows,
but the grays
blend and deepen
A coyote’s lonely call
hangs
unanswered
in the thick, dark air
This is for National Potery Month/ NaPoWriMo, and is linked to Verse Escape where the amazing Hedgewitch is doing extra duty with FF55 each week in April.
NaPoWriMo -Day #2
so, through our desolation,
thoughts stir, inspiration stalks us
through gloom -H.D.
Does hope really have feathers?
Or is it a green,
fresh thing
springing up
from the ground?
Or a tiny speck of light
like the occasional spot
that appears
in a photograph
invisible through the lens
but there, on the image
Or is hope a dark,
insubstantial thing
that follows
like a shadow,
stalking you
wherever you go
That movement
at the edge
of your vision
that feeling you get
sometimes
that you’re not alone
What is hope?
I don’t know, exactly
but I do know it’s there.
If you can’t find it just wait,
perhaps hope will find you
In Other Words 