Selected Poems—
These are some of my favorite poems from last winter. (They are still drafts, not final versions, and may not be shared outside this website without permission. Thank you.)
Poems—Winter 2014
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Category Archives: Poems
Poems—Dec 2013
Selected Poems
These are some of my favorite poems this month. (They are still drafts, not final versions, and may not be shared outside this website without permission. Thank you.)
Poems—Nov 2013
Selected Poems
These are some of my favorite poems this month. (They are still drafts, not final versions, and may not be shared outside this website without permission. Thank you.)
* * *
Cedar and Sycamore
The more I try to avoid my neighbor, the more often we seem to cross paths—literally. This woman is older than I and smaller. Her two terriers are about the size of my cats. Twice a day or so, she walks the dogs along the road by her house—the same road I walk at least three times a week. If the dogs catch sight of me, it’s all she can do to restrain them on their leashes, so, naturally, we try to avoid each other. Trouble is, neither of us has a set schedule of when we do our walking.
Poems — Oct 2013
Selected Poems
These poems are drafts, not final versions, and may not be shared outside this website without permission. Thank you.
131031
LADY MALADY
Autumn is the spawner
of coughs and colds,
fevers and flus.
That witch grows bold
attending her cauldron,
stirring up brews.
Poems — Sep 2013
Selected Poems
These poems are drafts, not final versions, and may not be shared outside this website without permission. Thank you.
130928
MAZED
Every guidance
is forgotten—
are there bearings
to be gotten?
Poetic Process
Looking Under the Hood (Poetically Speaking)
This is an exercise … maybe even an adventure. I thought I’d invite you along with me as I make a blog post … and, hopefully, a poem. Continue reading
Lost in Love
Love, Writing and Love of Writing
Some poems come instantly.
Others come as a spark that has to be instantly kindled. Still others are like sand-castles-in-the-making on a shore; the vision must be held and refined intensely all the while the tide recedes.
Artists (and others) who love their work understand the meditative suspension of time and distraction that occurs in “the zone.” Whole days can be absorbed in that state. Of the two poems that follow, the first came quickly (though not instantly) and the second took a good bit of post-construction. Continue reading
Poems — Aug 2013
These poems are drafts, not final versions and are not meant to be shared outside this website. Thank you.
Selected Poems
130831
BEGGAR WOULD RIDE
I don’t ask for a life of luxury
(of cherries and whipped cream)
but I’m jealous of my night-time self
who gets to sleep and dream.
130830
HARD TIMES
barely enough tuition for
the school of hard knocks
130828a
Oh,
it’s such a pity
that my kitty
thinks it’s witty
that her itty-bitty
pads go pitty-pat—
and, moreover,
that her catty
city mistress
wrote a flitty
little ditty
about that.
[Well, I GO to the city often.]
130828c
UNI-VERSE-AL?
The other planet poets—
Who are they?
What do they write?
What is poem-worthy
in their sight?
What, to them, is beauty;
what right or wrong or duty?
The other planet poets—
Do they write with heart?
Do we share a Muse?
Or are we worlds apart?
130828g
SELF SURVEY
Openly
I dwell in stealth.
For all I know,
I dreamed myself.
I have no place to stand—
except in here I am.
130826
WHAT SAY, RENÉ?
“I think,
therefore I am.”
You thought, therefore you were.
You were a man; I don’t refute—
but is a stone’s existence in dispute?
If not, then is it true
that stone thinks too?
130825b
ENCUMBERED
We feel so sure
as we endure,
seeking unremembered bliss,
“There’s more to life than this.”
Yes.
There’s also less.
130823
AT LAST, AT EASE
The trust I bear to Thee
in gratitude deep-growing
turns pangs of old not-knowing
from pain to peace for me.
130820
ALL TOGETHER NOW
(A Spiritual Perspective)
But for space,
we all would be
stuck in the same spot—
yet, if we’re free,
paradoxically
who’s to say we’re not?
130816
“Hugs—5¢”
her t-shirt read.
Five cents a hug!
For that, I dug
and paid the lady’s fee.
“Hugs—5¢”
the hugger said.
And when we’d done,
for love or fun
she bought one back from me.
130815b
I HEAR THE PEOPLE WONDERING
Perfect love casts out fear.
What makes pain disappear?
* * *
Change is scary, no-change worse;
is eternal life a curse?
* * *
In this scheme of good v. sin,
how do animals fit in?
* * *
Imagine that we took a poll—
“What’s your pick: love or control?”
* * *
While we’re learning what is true,
what are we supposed to do?
130813b
WEDDING TOAST:
“Forget all the fables
you’ve been spun—
now it’s two hardheads
instead of one.
130813d
RELAX, BREATHE
Life can seem
so hard and unfair.
Yet every time
I come up for air …
the air is always there.
130809c
SHUNNED
I knew I was unwelcome,
even at first sight.
At my approach, one huffed.
Then they all took flight.
But their leaving left me grateful—
in sheer dear deer delight.
130808
UN-FLAIRY TALE
Once upon a time, the lord and lady
of the manor got dethroned (missed
a balloon payment). Their homestead
was foreclosed upon and they were
forced to move to a shepherd’s hut
where they lived meagerly but happily
ever after, as far as anybody knows.
They could have been eaten by bears.
130805
WAY STATION
You made us
from Your spark—
and a bit of loam.
We travel here in dark;
help us help each other home.
130804
IN GOOD TIME
When does
suffering end?
(When karma’s
known as friend.)
130801b
I have seen
what wasn’t there;
saw it twice,
but didn’t stare.
Don’t know why
it came to me,
unless to show
such things can be.
* * *
Speaking of Poetry
Buzzards and Poems
Can you believe it? I was just asked to make a presentation on these joint topics to the Arkansas Audubon Society. Their upcoming convention. will be September 27-28 in Harrison AR.
I am beside myself with wonder. Which causes me to wonder if Lynn Sciumbato, the local vulture expert will be there. I also hope I’ll be able to locate the extensive vulture research I once did. Otherwise, I’ll start from scratch.
The correct term for what most Americans call “buzzard” is actually “vulture.” So I’m counting on the Audubon audience to be indulgent with my use of the incorrect common name. The word “buzzard” actually refers to a type of hawk. Scientists and Europeans are sticklers for this distinction.
This invitation to speak didn’t come completely out of the blue … sky … like a buzzard. One morning I saw a glimpse of a bird that I couldn’t quite identify; it was large and dark with white wing-tips. So I looked up the Arkansas Audubon Society on Facebook and asked questions. A long discussion followed. In it, I mentioned my love of buzzards and the related poetry. And now … voila! A chance to share.
Let’s see. I’ll dredge up a buzzard poem for you …
HAIL, FELLOW
Every day, a buzzard
comes into my view—
flying solo overhead
or swooping down, quite low,
or stationed in some untoward place.
It seems to say, “Hey, you!”
There’s nothing that I dread
or worry I should know.
I simply view it as a grace
and I reply, “Hey!” too.
My affinity for buzzards grew out of several moving and meaningful encounters. Maybe you know of a group that’s hot to hear these stories in a presentation on “Buzzards and Poetry”? Not likely, I know, but I’m ready when the group is. ♥ ~Jo
* * *
Photo Credits: Images cropped from a couple of my recent snapshots.