Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Poem #30 for April National Poetry Month.
I made it! 30 poems in 30 days! It has been actually more than 30 poems. What a ride! I’ve never tried to intentionally write that much poetry at once. It has been good discipline.
Susan Lori-Parks wrote a play a day for a year. Now, being who she is her year of plays gets produced. It was a grand experiment like this.
I know I need to edit and re-work a lot of these, but there are beginnings of some gems. What would a year produce, I wonder? Could I stand it? Keep it going? Or have enough vocabulary? I tend to repeat my favorite words. I am aware of all of this. What do you think? Yea or nay? Let me know.
Tonight you get two poems for the price of one. The first written this afternoon and the other after seeing myself tonight on film at a big movie theatre in the local indie film The Pony Man.

Pondering Polaroid
A quiet cascade through my memory
A silence so loud it hurts
How easy let go
It doesn’t flow
Here in my mind
The pictures painted bright
There is so much I have forgotten
I reach for the photos
I have misplaced
Shuffling through the same stack
Getting lost in story
The sound of the train whistle
 Out back of my home
Between the garden and the airport
On the edge of that farming sleepy town
The train sliced through
Clickity-clack high pitched announcement
That marked the day into sections
So sweet like an orange peeled
Juicy and ready to cut those hazy
Summer days playing on railroad tracks
Smelling the sticky tar
Bubbling up from treated wood slats
Hopping from one to one to one
Walking for hours trying to outrun the distance
Lying on my back in a dark field
The cold grass against my shoulders
A bit nippy in September’s late kiss goodbye
 to August’s free form passion
Looking for stars or something familiar
Singing to the Heavens
Waiting for them to whisper back
Tasting blood trickling down
The side of my head banged against
The steering wheel
Lost staggering alone on an Iowa dirt road
Stunned seeing the ditched pitch
Of a car curled up like a yellow bean bug
Waiting to devour the whole plant
When a dust cloud pulls up
Out steps a flannel clad knight
Asking if I’m ok
He takes me back to town
In a rattle-trap sea sludge green truck
on a sienna brown road
Pulling us towards town
out of the wild lonely flat lands
These small unspecific adventures
trapping solace and sculptures of a place
A marker between pages of adventure
stretching out my probability
To capture that perfect sunset
photographed on my cortex
in a distinct distant melody
I sing to remember
Humming snatches
Grabbing notes
Floating euphoric in snapshots of home

First Screening
Surreal seeing myself on the silver screen
I was there and then gone
Uttering a few lines
A pained look with joy
Is that what I look like?
I look at her
And I do like what I see
Heavy, but pretty
Country and city
Finding something in this itty bitty part
My life mimics the art
It’s a start
Performing a tiny role
Written for me
That I thought,”Why not?”
I get to be on the spot
In the light
Big emotions in a miniscule moment
A pause of dialogue in the montage
That’s me full and free

Monday, April 29, 2013

Poem #29 of National Poetry Month. This evening I went and returned a sleeping bag and camping pad that I borrowed nearly three years ago from a very generous and patient friend. It made me in mind of that great quote from Polonius in Hamlet Act 1 scene iii. This is for you Syrinda, thank you!

Deferred Taxes
Never a borrower or lender be
When you borrow you can pay great fees
And lending can lead you round the bend
Especially, if that person is a friend
They take the thing they needed most
And keep it with no regard to the host
You are wondering if that thing is now toast?
Or been lent out to some unknown source?
But of course, you try to have trust
In those that you love the most
When you need a thing
And put out a general cry
It is amazing the replies
Those are closest often
Do not respond
And those you know
A bit, see fit
To lend you their most precious
Or treasured thing
Not box or bag,
But a ring
Or antique going back generations
From the fathers of this nation
We borrow and lend
To friends and friends of friends
Now where are we?
On an apparent spending spree
That we cannot borrow more
And those lending days are through
This is the main issue
If not to be one who needs or charges fees
Then who shall we be?
The future is murky
Look at countries like Turkey
Greece and Ireland
Who have tried to be better men
Yet are like Rabbit trying
with all his relatives and relations
to unblock that door
Pooh Bear had to lose weight
Before he could get out of that scrape
I wonder what will happen to our state
Traveling at this rapid rate
Digging our own inevitable fate
I really cannot relate
To what the government does or purposes
As I haven’t chosen
To get on this ride with them
They are men who
Defend a system that is broken
And so few have spoken
About the justice of money
The future of this land
How can we expand our thinking?
We are sinking
This is stinking
More and more
They cannot ignore
The people who struggle
I wish they knew
How much we need
A common man
To take a stand
And understand making a solid plan
Lending less and borrowing less
To get us out of this mess!
That is what seems best
To quote a great mind
To be kind
To thy own self be true
But to borrow nothing
And lend nothing
I think could be quite shrewd

Sunday, April 28, 2013

Poem #28 of National Poetry Month and Autism Awareness too, which I write quite a bit of poetry about my autistic son.  Some nights I am so grateful for a quick prayer said and answered by the kindness of strangers. I needed help and it came from strangers and my husband. The boy might be not feeling well as part of this too, but I didn’t know until the storm hit. This poem I write for Peter and Austin that stopped to help us out tonight. You were the angels sent to aid us. Thanks!

Flash Flood Storm Boy
Downward spiral you slide so fast
I am caught in your wind wake
Not seeing all that is at stake
It is a seamless night
With a clear sky
Like a desert downpour
Out of no where
Sudden onslaught of sleepiness
Drives the clouds to grow
Larger, more full, and the deepest threatening hue
I had no clue this was brewing
Until I am drenched in misfired questions
Misdirection and so many missed connections
As I scurry to find the map to lead us out of it
Tonight a couple of strangers
 held an umbrella over our heads
I was shocked they stopped
And really heard your cries for help
They weren’t afraid
They sat down and stayed
Looking like they would have
Remained for as long as it takes
To see the storm abated
This new lightening rod
Attracted all your energy
You were repelled by them
I was attracted to their kindness
It was enough inertia to blow the storm
Down the block and into the car
Where we had to go
As home was so far
The rage settled to a trickle
Until the tickle of the driveway
You were so dismayed as the Heavens opened
 again to flood the floor to ceiling
I thought we would drown this time
Trapped in the car
Gotten this far
Then my partner storm chaser
Stepped out of the house
To see the tornado up close
He shouted to be heard
Stepping into the funnel undeterred
Into the house you blew
Full hurricane on the horizon
Unless we could shoot the eye
Coming around the bend
We stuffed your high pressure front
Into your footed pajamas
Getting many kisses from Mama
We brushed teeth
Despite the rain still constant
We tucked you in
Giving you a concert
Of sweet rest
Songs stilling the storm
Eyes closing
Rain down to a hiccupping mist
The fresh smell of sleep
Curling away the clouds
In comforted consolation
Our sweet boy once more

Saturday, April 27, 2013

Poems #27 My thoughts racing all over the map tonight. I wrote this first one and nearly didn’t publish it, but decided it would be good to do so. Here I am with 2 more for today’s entries.

Solo Story Project
Blank stare at the page
Matches my empty-headedness
As too many thoughts
Ride by the window
Much too swift and slick
To hold onto
Snatches of my father
Eighty-eight this year
Turning over that nine
He has almost run out of time
He sits alone and likes it
Yet he holds onto his stories
I’ve begged him to tell us
Before he goes
And turns up his toes
He hears me not
My sisters are someones
How I’ve wished to know
What dishes they have
Inside they keep
Their stories, not a peep
I overflow and they know
Most of what I know
I am a constant show
Wanting them to be my audience
Holding that front row seat
But like for Guffman
I wait and wait

Faith Story
Faith takes a fullness of being
To know what it is that makes us leap
We repeat the same patterns
The echo of past mistakes
And something says purchase that new item
Way over there that you know nothing about
That shouts“pick me!”
In the sea of other worn grooves
More than mere mood molds
That jump to a find
When we are lost
Cannot be found
We hear the sound
Of simple symphonic greatness
In one single note
We stroke that lamp
Hoping for smoke
Knowing there will be a genie
Kind or evil is not
The supreme thought
In this small action
This tiny tenacious turn
To hold onto the one thing we know
Leaping for what we don’t, can’t,
but must, must, must!

Friday, April 26, 2013

Poem #26 National Poetry Month
My son has a new pastime that has come up within the last month. It is adding to his fascination of geography and languages and how the continents formed and broke apart. He loves beginning sentences lately with the phrase,”200 Million years ago, the continents were a supercontinent called Pangaea….”

Paleozoic Puzzle Popper
“When will there be Pangaea again, Mama?”
You laugh running wild half gallop,
half rabbit racing but unlike the silent roadster
You grunt laugh with little squeals at the ends
Replete with thoughts about the supercontinent
 Pangaea you know is a past era but you long for it in the future
I somehow understand
Seeing the excitement of something that was sure it happened,
no guessing to what will be or could be
It was is a solid ground to start from
For you to launch into because you know what is there
and what will be beneath your feet
Even though the era you choose is also about continental drift
you are more concerned with before the continents move
before they launch out on their own
You want one sturdy mass
Where everything is connected
and there is no disconnect
You want to walk around everywhere
You love to fly,
but being able to take your time and stride across the world
 is mastering everything you wrestle with and are fascinated by
To stroll, not dig your way to China is an intoxicating fantasy
You riff on what you would do
 If you could
If this was real
 In your mind it is coming
And it will be
Off you will go and leave me behind
Sure that the past will support your vision of the future
I fantasize too about that bittersweet goodbye
 As you wave to me and walk to France
For the very first time alone

Thursday, April 25, 2013

Poem #25 of National Poetry Month. Maybe I’ve watched too many old Star Trek: The Next Generation this month and hearing that opening sequence has got me thinking. I miss being in plays or having regular contact with theatre. It is just a different season of life for me now as I take care of family and home. I still get my plays out there as a playwright, but it is hard to wait for someone to play with at times. Even getting plays read by people that could produce them seems harder somehow in moments like this. It is like losing the thing that keeps me going. I feel a little woozy when I think all that needs to get done to do what I want to be doing and this is one of those moments, I think.

Star Treks
Where has my heart gone?
It is there pumping
Doing its job
But my heart of hearts
Not the love I have
For my most beloved
That I cherish daily
Or the blood ties
That harbors me
In a safe pride
Not the love of
Those that surround
Me like weeds, forests, or flowers
No, the love I put my time
Where the sands would fall
And burn a thousand moments
The hourglass overturned
And it seemed like a blink of an eye
The passion fueled for one conversation
over a single word, look, or nuance
Building whole themes out of nothing
A bit of cloth, well placed sighs,
Or a slight flirt flashed at the right moment
that the entire room would focus
and breathe together longing to know
would she or won’t she?
Wanting to know myself
What the outcome would be
Bringing together a group
To do what it sounds like
Children do it all the time
They pour themselves into worlds
 so filled with mystique
I miss that compliment to my being
Replete with all its challenge
A rocket to stardust
I know my heart is still there
Wandering the stars
My love lives in the moonbeams
the planets or constellations
That map out distant galaxies of dreams
Beam me to the surface
Of a smaller planet
I’ll begin exploring there
To seek out that new life
Where I have gone before

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Poem #24
Construction Season
“Do I push people away?”
Is what I asked him today
He smiled in his coy
“What do I say to her?” way
“I haven’t gone anywhere yet.”
“Yet? You have plans?” I quip
“No, I’m not going anywhere.”
He states in all seriousness
He hears my concerns
The same ones I’ve had
The same pulling weight
That sometimes drowns
The cheers of sideline
Sunshine runners that
Dart in and out of my life
Telling me “I’m awesome”
But the others,
 I think are lurking at my windows
Watching me in extreme detail
Giving scores as if cleaning my kitchen were an Olympic sport
I feel like the scaffolding will never come down
And I’m this unfinished project with old materials
Patching the same old holes
Trying to keep out the acid rain
That eats away that one spot
Leaking through to my underground river
That feeds everything that grows
Curling its toes up before there is fruit
Because the water is poisoned
He listens and says nothing to this
Holds my hand keeping me steady
Looking into my eyes
He knows, there is more to me
I see the rain stop
The garden grow
I will make those phone calls
I will carry on
My building is open for business

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Poem #23 on Shakespeare’s Birthday! And the 20 year mark of my husband and my first kiss. It is a day I shall always remember. This is my somewhat clunky attempt at a sonnet. For my amazing husband of 19 years and to that first kiss that set our path together.

Sonnet’s Kiss
A glimmer cradled in gentle request
To enter threshold of my brightest gain
Thou play first ballads cause of amour
To render a sure sketch her diagram
But thou syncopate my heart to thy beat
Fueling my light’s flame with thy substantial song
Hearing our rhythm within friendship’s pace
Thy act had shown a cache our prize
Thou that art now the night’s fast prisoner
Broke candid company from frozen spring
Awaken thine own lips, saved from lament
And hover there over mine with revelry
Tender time tick tocks shall this moment toll
To see a future here, thy song esto perpetua

Monday, April 22, 2013

Poem #22 of National Poetry Month.  It is also Earth Day today. I guess that is what was more on my mind than I thought it was as this poem reflects.
Night Roses
Burnt orange blaze motion light
 on the house next door
Coming into a back bedroom window
A sense of security
to see things lit up
Tangerine screams in
your dusky yard
The ancient rose bushes
brush the night wind
Sway and bend
like ladies at court
Bowing to the queen butterfly bush
and stately kind king trees
They reach up and up
 into deepest shadow against the stars
Piercing the perfect cloudless sky
that hides nothing
Sliver of silver moon
nailed brightly hung slanted on the curved bend
Top of our earth
Half sleeping
Half waking
 to their own burnt orange ball
Rising as we set
Working as we rest
Smelling roses so sweet
Some bullied by the wind
knocking over ancient trees
Some feeling no breeze
in dust filled spaces
Hot dry places
that no one goes to school
or ever owns a pool
As their sun glows from orange to red
down and down
We revolve
The crickets chirp
The birds wake
to morning their night
The light next door turns off
 and my neighbor scurries out to pick
Spring’s first rose wet with dew