Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Happy Earth Day!

Ode de Erda
Robins fill my yard
Digging down in the dirt
They will not starve
Plentiful rain brings worms inert
How they feast!
Scattered grey goons
Dissipate for a chance to relate
To the shiny faced loon
this melts spring’s heartache
Beaming golden strings
warming the crust
Bees practice buzz and sting
As birds sing full of lust
The lake is teaming eggs
From nesting and wriggly fish
Birdwatchers and fishermen make a wish
Downriver the bears stumble from dens
Fox, deer, and raccoon cross icy water
Following the river’s dips and bends
Handing over new structure to the beaver and otter
The rocks push back at rapids
Slimy with moss and lichen
Tiny bats eek, “we are not yet rabid!”
There is a purity not yet syphoned
The earth’s core hums and pulls
With a strength known by no man
For all that is stored
Runs like hourglass sand
How large is the glass?
Will time win out?
We pour over the past
“For the future!”, we shout

Monday, April 21, 2014


Photo Shop
I look in the mirror and think, ”Who is that?”
She looks distantly familiar as my memory of her
Is more vital and vibrant then what I see here
Away from the mirror talking with my people
Those who know what I’m talking about
And listen and we exchange deep longings
Or likes of what has shaped us
I know she is beautiful and bursting with life
I don’t need to look in the mirror
When I see a recent snap shot that someone
Shows me to ask if they can post it online
For all the world to see and I say yes
Even though there is that woman I don’t recognize
Her lazy eye drooping down
Her tired face smiling
Yet dug down dried out
Puffed out is more like it
She stands there insulated
With more lard then a Southern pork pie
Protected from the barbs
Wrapped up in bubble wrap
So as not to break when bumping into walls
Or ceilings of glass 
or ones made from her own fresh fears
She makes me mad to see
I don’t like her much
This outside stuff that makes her portrait
Of the moment, but not how she feels
I pick up an old photo of time gone by
One where my hair is curled just right
My smile is energetic and eyes wide to the world
I'm not fat or too thin,
I am radiant with confidence
And alert looking for that next opportunity
To stand on my soapbox and sing!
I like her
I want her
I desire to see her again
I’d like to chat with her
Well, I do
But she seldom talks back to me

Sunday, April 20, 2014

Easter 2014

I've been trying hard to put into poetry something wonderful I witnessed today at church, but can't yet. I'll keep at trying as I had a beginning sentence that slipped away today. Lesson here is to capture these things and write them in the moment. Here are 3 poems that came as from fragments of the day. Not quite expressing how I want to say it, but a start.

Ringing in a New Dawn
Today it was supposed to rain and it didn’t
There was blue sky and sunshine
Today we made careful plans not to be late
We were late as so many times before
Today it was predicted we wouldn’t find a seat if late
We found one and then were moved to an even better one
Today we thought it would be a good service
It was better as we were surprised by God’s infinite grace
Today we thought no one would come to dinner
You came and we laughed again
Today we usually make holiday meals complex
But we made it delicious yet simple
Today was supposed to be the same as last year
But last year was left behind and we made a new day today

What is resurrection?
It is insurrection?
Pilgrims that claim
A bombing in His name
Is it new reputation?
Reimaging or station?
To resurrect the body from cold
Warming up the eternal soul
It is only one time
This is the spine
Jesus was raised from the dead
Grave clothes left on his bed
He burst from the tomb
He is coming back soon
Soon is a relative term
It makes some squirm
I have learned to wait
A constant state
He took my place
So I might see his face

Patty Cake
I first saw a baby boy
You so filled with joy!
Telling all you knew
He was growing too
Then I didn’t see you at all
The boy was growing tall
I’d glimpse him from time to time
Wondering what made him so fine?
To you, I didn’t know he had changed
To me, I saw so little, but a new bounce in him
Every ounce of him was something I couldn’t name
Then I had a baby boy
I was so filled with joy!
I was telling you too
You looked a bit unglued
No matter, I thought you were scattered
Absorbed in so many moments and your son
I thought you needed more fun
I didn’t know it weighed a ton
My baby grew
The time flew
I now stunned
Missing his fun
Your boy, I would describe
As eyes missing a vibe
I know that missed cue
To you I flew
We held a bond
In this growing pond
A secret language between you and me
It had come to rest exacting a fee
From our children we cherish
Fearing they would perish
Without hope
Without a vote
Lacking everything
In our beings
We hold hands
Across this span

Molding them 
into stronger men

Trying Haikus

Today was wonderful in that I got to not only hear our Washington State Poet Laureate, Elizabeth Austen read some of her poems, but some other local poets as well. It was an event at one of the local libraries. I even participated in reading a couple of my own poems during the open mike portion of the program. But I didn’t hear but one person do any haikus. Her haikus were pretty brilliant, I had to admit.
I’m late posting this again tonight because I was challenging myself to write in that style---the haiku. I am not really comfortable attempting it. Some people think the haiku is easy to write, but I struggle with it. Here are my twenty minutes of attempting the genre. I’m sure some of you are much better at this then I am. Leave me a haiku!
Traditionally they are 5-7-5 in syllables, but there was a web site claiming that is not the case in English anymore that syllables don’t really count. I took that to heart with some of them.

Tomato plants reaching for sun
Call to me
I plant early

Fluffy pealed trees
Signal goes for spring
Yielding to frigid rains

Smell of brownies baking
Walk by the lake
Remind me swimming comes

Come God Almighty
Take away world’s mighty sin
You are much stronger

Held up by my love
Before I was born he came
He overcame grave

Sending sun’s rays back
I knelt down and felt around
Where the arrow fell

Looking down seeing
More is forgotten this hour
Starring at my hands

Rough patches on feet
Examines my heart speaking
Rub some lotion in

Slice through pain piercing
Look beyond the horizon
Bird wings its way free

Forgive me now
Hand placed on face tenderly
Turns to warmth again

Spring Blood moon rises
Thin, wet grass shutters in wind
Gaping ground swallows

Round wrinkled eyes soft
Place needle in hand to thread
Pull through missing once

Jesus treads not hard
Slides over donkey saddle
Braying covers cheers

Held tight in my arms
Place scraped out permanently

Round in a square hole

Friday, April 18, 2014

Running with Peter on Good Friday...

April 18, 2014
Today all day I was thinking about Peter and his denial of Christ in the events of Good Friday. In Matthew 26 Jesus tells Peter to his face that Peter will deny even knowing Christ before the night was out. And it happens just as Jesus said. Peter instantly regretful, weeps about it.
It really is Maundy Thursday this incident happens (or symbolically happens as we don’t know it was actually a Thursday), but I think about what Peter is weighed down with as Jesus says, “It is finished” and what Friday night was like for him.
Cock’s Third Cry
Fire light flickers
Fog rolls sickens
Night deepens fills
Cut open it spills
My insides out.
Now no doubt
But then, then I sinned
Turning away,
Spinned dizzy with grief
I wanted relief
Had none
I run
Beyond the pale
Footsteps echoing fail
Undone sharp shorn
Wish I hadn’t been born
What have I done?
I gave up the one
I had sworn to protect
A moment of neglect
To save myself
Putting honor on the shelf
Stopping, panting hard
I’ve run very far
I fall down
Where I was bound
I do not know
Looking up I see
Him not me.
On this hillside he died
This I cannot deny
Crusted crab of grief
Crawls to a seat
Here beneath the cross
I live his loss
Waiting for morning light

To take back this wretched night

Thursday, April 17, 2014

Trees..spring...I really like Spring trees....

April 17, 2014
There is this beautiful willow tree on the way to the pool and it lodged in my brain tonight.

Tremendous Willow
Weeping willows capture my attention
No other tree feels as deeply
Wearing what it is in its name
For all the world to judge
If it is indeed sad enough
Or wanting too much
A solid knotted trunk of grief
Going against the grain
As trees stand with arms raised
But my willow bends over
Bowing to all in welcome and service
Locks of hair-like branches
Turn twisting to the water or pasture
The wind blows
It transforms as a prima ballerina
Otherwise it resides there waiting
For someone to sit half-hidden
Underneath it singing
For an hour or more
Remembering a time better then now
But not so good
As to ignore the rich present
Underneath the loving arms
Of this wondrous willow

That waters Heaven’s solitude

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Rediscovering Easter eggs

We dyed Easter eggs together this afternoon for the first time ever. My son had never done it and I hadn’t done it since I was a child. We did this with a friend and it was fun. He stuck with it so much better then frosting gingerbread men this Christmas. I think it was the ease and color and he has a fascination whenever I bring out eggs. He doesn’t eat eggs and won’t try them, but loves to talk about them, hold them, crack them if helping me bake something, and now I know he loves dying them too.

Fizz Fuzz Easter Does
Eggs hard boiled
I feel loyal
To that green
And yellow scene
With the white bunny
Who looks so funny
Legs crossed cockily
leaning on a big tree
he smiles at the eggs
under his legs
like he has just hatched
this great big batch
Eggs of many colors
not made out of rubber
but looking festive
We did our best of
vinegar and dye
spheres of sky
or ovals of gold
other hues unfold
sunset orange into view
serene green pulled from our stew
Purple with one pink dot
Emerges to surprise our lot
We discover childhood again
An Easter bright spot

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Morning poem...

April 15, 2014
I'm cheating a bit tonight as I wrote this, I think this fall, when I was running to the bus a lot for my job. I still do run to the bus, but I haven't seen the tent there probably since I wrote this. I need a break from writing a brand new poem every day----so I’m taking a quick run at re-writing this one instead.
Catching Up to the Bus
Harried at the inconvenience
I rail kicking up a ruckus
Out the door earlier than I want
I walk out into the cool damp drearies
The collection box for used clothing is newly removed
I momentarily notice,
Crossing over the overpass
I look down nestled in the long grass is a tent
No signs of life among the highway roars
My heart melts
I think about the cold wet night before
About the bus pass in my pocket
And my malignant complaints
Having to roll out of my warm bed with the birds,
But not really
Not like this
I want to go buy breakfast for both of us,
But I’ll miss my bus
My job I go to wouldn’t understand,
Compassion will have to wait
My heart turns the corner to gratefulness

Rejoicing for a small handful of troubles today