Posted on 2006.07.03 at 06:30
“Coffee Time” Magnetic Corkboard box, bought
at the Dollar Tree, where everything in the store
is a dollar, no lie, no lie Shopping Spree at JCP,
Sales Event. Bank One is changing to Chase
Manhattan. Crumpled Kleenex, one or two of them,
Same pattern, same nose perhaps. Nutri-Grain Twists,
Celadon green shiny wrapper, apple cobbler
That tastes nothing like apple cobbler,
Envelope with Mayes Country Chrysler in bold letters,
A cowboy hat logo atop the M, letter inside
Advising me they would take my car as a trade-in
And give me a new deluxe one, bottle-glass blue,
Y-shaped Frontline fleadrop container, used on Buffy
As she sat next to the keyboard, unaware of what
Was coming, Stylin’ Bundle O’Braids cardboard
Holder for 2 “chignon mono” that were too small
For the bundle of hair I tried to put in them. Now,
I can take all this out, now I will bring in more.
Posted on 2006.06.22 at 15:04
I wrote the following poem as an exercise for the ABC game. Sitting on my porhc, I looked around and found something for every letter of the alphabet. If anyone reads this and feels inspired to write their own, I'd love to see it.
I Spy
An angel in the barbwire fence,
A bee flying close to the ground,
A cow who wears a red chain around her neck,
A dog who wants to sit in my lap . . . perpetually,
An elegant beaded doodad hanging from the porch rail,
A field of black-eyed susans,
A green patch of crabgrass wanting to crawl everywhere,
A hill that the road disappears behind,
An ink stain on a photo I left in the rain,
A jeweled rake full of Mardi Gras beads,
A kitty who wants to come outside,
A lawn chair that needs to be thrown away,
A mirror hanging under the porch light,
A necklace circling a pot of ivy,
An old photo in a battered silver strainer,
A picture of Luke with a washcloth on his head,
A quartet of rocks in a circle,
A red lantern that will never be lit,
A shovel leaning against the steps,
A tire with no rim under the carport,
An upside down enamel can,
A vase that a student made me,
A well that pumps 5 gallons per foot,
An extra special magazine that does not begin with X,
A yard full of backhoed dirt from the pond,
A zillion weeds that want to live.
Posted on 2006.06.18 at 20:09
As a writer and poet, I love images from the Tarot, all the metaphoric interpretations and symbols and such. I started a series of Tarot poems once, and here is one on the Hermit. If anyone else is interested in the Tarot, please add me to your Friends list.
In my mind I have my future home built down
To square footage and placement of ice box,
Fireplace and closet. I have the line drawing,
The garden and greenhouse sketched in, brackets
For doors and windows. It is a small house
Built for one, built for the sole
Stretch of my life that is becoming me
As I wander away from the city streets
And past the rows of houses to the river
Path entrance and welcome a different exchange
But not with the trees and lizards and
Honeysuckles that are the tools and support
To we walkers who seek them and discover
Them and bend to pick up a yellow leaf
Placing a life’s importance on that leaf
Because life is in it and also began there.
Posted on 2006.06.17 at 22:02
The unseen is still there. New moon.
Deep in the abyss, I see the majestic world
In the fireflies hauntingly spaced throughout
The meadow, other mysterious flashes of light,
The slope of the hills and the subtle sway
Of branches outlined against a web of stars.
Though I can’t see the path before me, I feel
The seed heads of the lilting grass sweep my fingers
At the edge and I keep my way and following
The curve of the earth, I know how high
To step and when to turn and listening
To the harmony of drum, chime, and flute,
I know where connections rest, and mostly I know
That this majestic world contains my life.
And when the dutiful world
Squeezes the expanding majesty,
I listen to that voice within me:
You aren’t afraid of the dark.
You can find your way.
You are your own light.
The unseen is still here.
Posted on 2006.06.17 at 21:30
Current Mood:
creative
Robert Frost said that poetry was a way of taking life by the throat. I like that for my subtitle. I want to put some of my poetry on it and talk about poems and such and I imagine I'll post other stuff, too.
I'd like some Okie friends to sign on with me! Join me!