NaPoWriMo: Poem #19 Digging through decades...

I was searching old journals for a poem I’d already written to post here tonight, but they were way too personal and well… So, I wrote this instead.

Reflections

Keeping, holding, clinging, burning,

I thrust out pictures

Constructed by rickety words

Wobbling tower ready to fall

It topples far over in order to lean on

Another nearby thought

Together they support each other

But neither are safe to climb

Least it collapse

As a pile of sticks and stones

That break my bones

And may never harm me

But my humor?

Well, it is all serious

Scenarios that life has thrown me

Under the proverbial bus

Too many times

Flattening my resolve

I close the cover

Put it back on the shelf

To open when I need

To see where the scars formed

But know how they healed

I see those ghost’s features

Covering my arms

And only shines when

A certain light falls on it

Otherwise I forget it is there

But I’ll always remember how it got there

Or what is was to me then

And is to me now

NaPoWriMo: #18 about the green things

It is Friday the 13^th, which I tried to write a poem about and couldn’t. I wrote a bad poem about medieval superstitions trying to tie it together and then erased that too. My brain is too tired. A friend complained that her veggie starts hadn’t come up yet and that somehow did inspire me to write a poem tonight! HA! Well, it is about that and….

 Grow Weight Wait

Little green sing to me

Sooth my ache from wet cold

Muddy feet and fair refusal

That arrests my sense of moving forward

To linking hard to those underground

Not around to hear the hard hurt

Scarred in my chest

Carved a letter

“A” for ashamed, around, arrested, and arrogant,

I plant seeds keeping moist

Hoping to see shoots

That come from not “A”

But the rest of the alphabet

Pushing up through with deep grasping roots

Which hang on,

seeking needed nutrients

Sucking up hydroponic power

To point towards the source of light

And find new ways to survive

Cleaning the air

Curing the surface

Coming together

Culling the pain

Clearing the stain

NaPoWriMo: #17 Tonight's Dinner Inspired Me

I would have taken a picture of them, but I was too hungry! Tonight’s dinner was good!

Fresh Crab Cakes

The half-light hovers on the horizon

Sinking me down

With the sun slinking over the mountains

A purple haze invades my brain

Pounding out the weather of my day

cracking shells unlike gulls

I wield a mallet with no malice

but relax in the steady therapy

of pounding hard to win sweet sea treasure

white and pink red clean looking meat

While I separate out 

sweet treat from hard shell 

to cover in spices

Celery, onions, basil, garlic, old bay spice

Egg, tabasco, and breadcrumbs

The sizzle pop of oil warming

I mush and squash the stuff

To form fat ovals

Like new deep ocean creatures

That they are made from

Gently I lay them down

To be surrounded by bubbles

Which transform them to golden brown

Then I lift them to turn over

And do the other side

I smell the anticipation

The spices wake me

From my half slumber

Infused with new energy

I slip them from the scalding liquid

Onto the pristine quiet paper towel to drain

Patting them down

As if they were freshly showered babes

Given into my care

NaPoWriMo: Poem #16 Darned Dyspraxia

My dear 12 soon-to-be 13 year old son has been struggling all his life to learn simple tasks like walking without falling down. It is a physical condition related to his autism called dyspraxia. He walks pretty well now, but there are other things that he also struggles to do, but we work on them daily!

These pictures make me really happy. It was a day in Paris, summer 2017, and he was chasing pigeons. It was just him and me in the gardens at Les Invalides. He was running, bounding from spot to spot, falling, but not caring about it as he was so free just laughing and running with the birds. A family was there trying to feed the birds and annoyed with him saying all kinds of things in French about the rude American boy and why wouldn't he leave the birds alone and them in peace? I loved his loud love of life that day and was delighted to see him have so much fun running around!

Dialogue with You and that Darned Dyspraxia

Axis of worlds that turn

And pull the muscles

That slide and push

Out towards others

A lost map

To plan where

This goes or that

Foot falls splat

It turns and down

You fall with black and blue

Rising through skin

You get up and again

You go down a minute later

It is better than

When this was repeated

All day over and over

I never thought you’d walk straight

Your gait always a bounce along

Now is so strong

Still you have a distinct hop

That is a steadier lumber

You stumble much less

Though your connect

To everyday life

is often a guess

I to this day am startled

Not to see a car seat

In the back behind me

And I want to know

If you’ll conquer daily duties

That is not even a blink

To others your age

Will you dissuade your aversion

for doing for yourself?

These things that

put you on that shelf

that labels your abilities

or willingness to do more please?

You engage in so many other ways

that is not physical

The drive to engage is there

Your body is catching up

You are the right stuff

Don’t worry about the falling down

It makes those that stare frown,

But I see that you will always get up

NaPoWriMo: #14 & #15 Panic and Deep sexy voice

The first poem came from a little panic that began my week and was cleared away today. What week isn’t without some kind of “little panic” it seems, huh?

The other poem was inspired by my husband reading a bedtime story to our son, but he began by reminding me that he read it to me. We used to read a lot at bedtime. He read to me and it was a wonderful time. I miss it and him (obviously). He’s here, we just don’t get those quiet moments of reading together anymore. Okay, the picture isn't his sexiest, but to me it makes my heart go pitter-pat when he reads to our son.

Emergent Emergency

One little note

Induces perpetual panic

Spinning in my head

Until I can call

To hear a voice

That is the only one

That can answer my questions

The alarms are shut down

One by one by one

Calm is installed

Back to regular programming

My concentration returns

Now with laser focus

A Bedtime Story

The warmth of words well read

Are so sensual and serene

They go to my head

Dancing in scenes

Pulling me up to a plane

I don’t often see

The way a sigh escapes

Or a silent plea

The stuff of begging

That longing space

Is filled

With the thrill

Melts the chill

Can do no ill

Your voice

My choice

Commands me still

NaPoWriMo: #13 Spring Pests that look so pretty...

The King of Spring

Do dandelions roar?

Today I wondered this

I looked out at a field

Covered in rain the past few weeks

Was now enjoying being bathed in sunlight

Among the green, greens were heads of yellow

Populated everywhere in crowds or solo

But covering as a stadium

Cheering on spring

Roaring and roaming

To bring back sustenance

To the young ones that

Still were shut tight

Closing off their sunny faces

Waiting for white haired

Horry headed marauders

That spread their seeds

By wind and wistful child

Then they will follow

To ravage the grassy knoll

Knowing they mark

Spring and summer like no other

By announcing in herald

“We are here!” devouering

Each dew drop

Choking out all plants that oppose

To be king of the urban jungle

Coming up through crack or crevice

Careening their necks

To turn and roar out spring

NaPoWriMo: Poems #11 & #12: Math and Grace

Note about these poems come from my frustration with studying to pass my West B. I will, hopefully next month, but right now it seems impossible. The other poem came from an interesting conversation about the phrase “fallen from grace” that I had with a friend recently.

Mushy Math Mad Dash

A math test

Doesn’t bring out my best

It makes me question my absolute value

And what I know about me that is true

I shudder and stutter through

Equations that make my mind like glue

Stuck on one thing

A number zoo

The connections don’t zing

Listening for the ping

My stomach hurts

As my little quirks

Become huge under this microscope

I can’t cope

I choke

My self-esteem up in smoke

Passing it feels remote

As I grasp at tomorrow’s hope

Terms of Grace

Fallen from grace

A friend argued

Can’t be

In his theology

The phrase is wrong

As grace is a thing not place

Something to fall from

Has to be a where to him

Not a what

This is his bug-a-boo

Or what he takes issue

That people say this phrase

As if they know where they fell from

He face palms and tells me it isn’t right

To be cast in the night without

To be in doubt

To fall from a location

Sounds wrong

But isn’t by God’s throne

Where Jesus is home?

Is part of the what and where

We fall from?

There is no pun,

I intend to explain

That we remain

With Jesus when he pleads for us

He blankets our mess and fuss

Of the sin we are in

Perhaps to fall is more of a slide?

A slippery slope we decide

To sneak away

From all he paid

For us to live and abide

We hide instead

In our beds

Covering our heads

Saying, ”Go away God!”

It is a plot

Where you make me

Miserable every day

So just “go away!”

When God stays

That is grace

As I understand it

Though we don’t deserve it

It is there

So we can’t really swear

And say we fall away

If there isn’t a day it isn’t there

Grace covers our sin

It lets us into the throne room

And makes us a home to visit or stay

But it never goes away

Tomorrow or today

NaPoWriMo: #9 Finding Peace & #10 My son's hair

The end of Spring Break and a week past Easter, I find myself in between longing for what was and what is. Also spending all day with my son’s hair whipped in my face made me think about his new motto of “I’m never cutting my hair again” and what that might really mean for his future and mine.

 

Peaceful Shores

Peace be with you

And go before you

And be behind you

In all that you do

“How is standing up to my knees

In troubled water peaceful?” I question.

“But it is only to your knees”

It could recede,”

I hear him say.

“It could rise!”

“And then where would I be?”

“You can swim?”

“Yes, but if there is no land?”

He smiles, “Yes, what then?”

“I cry for help?”

“Yes, peace to keep swimming,

Though you don’t see the shore,

It is there.”

My Little Samson (Hairbear)

I can’t see your face

For the veil you have grown

That hides your thoughts

While you are at home

It covers you as you tilt away

Spinning round an orbit

You rocket out of sight

Beneath that hair

To shelter your flights

Of fancy and foreign exploring

It is me you are ignoring

Finding a new curious corner

That I am not privy to

You find it a way

To control your gaze

Peeking out with one eye

Seeing if I’m watching

What you do

It is like a reflector shield up

And I can’t see through it

I tell myself this too is a phase

And I hope won’t get too much praise

Because then you will pursue it

As a lifelong thing

That could sting

Your hair is beautiful

Take care of it

So it won’t look pitiful

When I am gone

Maybe it will keep you strong

As you curtain away your thoughts

From others that aren’t your Mom

NaPoWriMo: #8 Reflection on seasons

A quick simple poem this evening as I hope you all are doing well whatever season you are in.

The Waiting Seasons

I used to wait for summer

For the freedom in the night

The warmth that wrapped around me

Stars sizzling, blinking blanketing me tight

I used to wait for springtime

Pushing green up through

the broken earth smells

it went on forever hopeful

confessing more then it would tell

I used to wait for autumn

With leaves catching my eye

The sound of crunchy carpets

Background music in my strife

And now I wait for winter

Inside I stoke the fire high

Wanting to melt the snow over laden

As gazing out, I sigh