peace
and quiet
are a wonderful thing
but are they to be trusted
or treasured
when there is still laughter
to be heard
Tag: poem
Poem 20151121b
the sky
flat and gray blue
like a faded child’s blanket
and the mountains
like paper cutouts
theater scenery
so clear
so near
you could trace them
with a pencil on vellum
Poem 20151121
I’m going to say thank you to Doug at his terrific blog Elusive Trope for nominating me for the Three Days, Three Quotes Challenge.
How the challenge works: I nominate three others to also embrace this challenge and, on three consecutive days, to provide a quote along with your take on it. As far as I can see, that take can be a post (like this one will be), or a poem, or a photo. Hey, how about a song, or spoken word?
It’s Day Three. I’m not adding new nomination, but here are the nominees from Day One. Please check out their blogs:
Optional Poetry
Poet Rummager
Linton’s Legacy
—–
Our greatest glory is not in never failing, but in rising up every time we fail.
–Ralph Waldo Emerson
we rise up
though our legs buckle
and we fall again
dig our hands into the earth
spit the dust from dry mouths
we dare the hammer
to strike once more
we rise up
Poem 20151120
frost on sunlit grass
a pocket of mist, no geese
–autumn finally
Poem 20151119
so much ice
i hadn’t thought
with the polar caps melting
and the imminent doom
of rising sea levels
that there was still a place
in the world for so much ice
or that i would be trapped
beneath it
breathing is one thing
when you feel like there’s
something warm in the air
you want in your lungs
but altogether different
when the air is brittle
and razor-edged
Poem 20151118
the doses of radiation are safe
they say
and they run for the safety
of a lead-lined room
you lay on your back
arms over your head
and the magnets spiral
and spin around your guts
looking for the grain of sand
your body wants to turn into
a pearl
but you’re no oyster
Poem 20151117
the birds exercise their right
to be silent today
avoiding the feeders
and the yard in general
like an apocalypse
en media res
and i didn’t get the memo
the sky is so blue
what kind of blue
what word to replace blue
such a simple set of four letters
but none of the synonyms appeal
it’s blue blue blue
it’s clean-clear, almost white
it’s blue like a transparent
layer of skin that can be peeled back
revealing a host of sword-wielding angels
but are there any other kind?
even angels of mercy carry scalpels
in their tongues
and their words cut away the dead weight
the dying weight
paring you down so that you can fly
like them with hollow bones
silent mouths
you have the right to remain–
Poem 20151116
the only advice–
take care where you put your feet
since the path behind disappears
and the path ahead is covered
by stones and darkness
Poem 20151115b
my skin hot from the shower
i find what you left
on the counter
and when i am done
my hands smell of lemons
i will smell of lemons
for hours
days
the rest of my life
Poem 20151115
the moon is a crescent
a lopsided smile
that the clouds roll over
a diaphanous film
that hardly diminishes
its light
you ask then for protection
and i wonder
from what?
but then i remember the kind
of world we live in
i feel like i can’t even protect
the worms that we scoop off the sidewalk
after a rain and we toss them
back wriggling into the grass
so they won’t be stepped on
but nothing is stopping the birds
but maybe it’s enough to get them
back on the grass
and maybe the smile from the moon
isn’t a pasted on cheshire grin
Words and Feathers 