Busy days boost the sun
however faint his gaze.
No time to moan
his wandering ways
over the banks of snow.
Sun warms the heart
and soothes the soul
even when he strays
too far south
to take the time
to light our way.
Busy days ease our wait
for sun’s return
To grace us with his kiss
and hold our heart in his.
Filed under POETRY
Saving face
By creating truth
Is the only means of escape
From harsh reality
For those whose core
Is thinned and weak
By lack of moral exercise.
Bread and circuse
Did Rome in.
History ignored
Is repeated evermore.
Distraction through attraction
Diverts the gaze, the ear, the tongue.
This is who we live among.
Doing what is correct
Does not reflect the Right
Constantly claiming false
It’s moral might
Over those whose outrage
Threatens their control,
Their wealth, their privilege.
New faces in new places
Where they were not allowed before
Distort the world view
Of the autocratic few.
It takes strong core
Muscles to stand tall
Before the attack of falsehood
Destroys us all.
Filed under POETRY
GRIEF LINES ABOUT THE BROW
1-15-2022
I held grief at bay
in tightened fists
determined not to allow
its escape, until I lay
it down upon the page,
Where it sapped my strength.
Taking up the pen
is little help today
when the nib etches lines
of grief about my brow,
too close to allow the flow
of ink upon the page.
Democracy means more to those
More recently saved upon its shores.
The lands of autocrats and hypocrites,
we thought, had been left
behind, beyond our pained sight;
now resurrected by the Republican right.
A Right reinforced by clerics bent
on reasserting ties long rent
between church and state,
Now reinstated by the Court
and pro-life misogynist dictum
making women victims.
The Right backlash to Obama
is a fierce and hateful trauma
which dares to take away
our diversity and our vote,
our personhood and culture,
our history and democracy.
Grief is still heavy today
but less than yesterday.
Today ink flows steadily,
freely, hopefully daring leaders
to find the courage to save the vote,
and this beloved country.
TIME TO DANCE
Beats sound
a groundless thump
against the heated air
of bodies dancing
worry laid bare.
To dance, to leap,
To sing, to weep.
Undulation and ululation
sound the escape
with brave elation.
Dance, dance
with butterflies and bees
as if life depends upon it.
Flutter and flit
On currents of air.
Rhythm and blues
are every day news.
Dance, dance.
Sound the best with feet
lifted above despair.
Dance, dance
with joy unabated.
Float like lilies
on pads created
To go with the flow.
Dance into the future.
Dance down the past.
Dance up the present.
Dance as if this chance
may be your last.
Grief is palpable
hearts made of soft wool;
natural,
real,
felted by tears,
made stronger,
tightening bonds
across miles
circumventing the globe.
Likes on the blog
string together the yarns
of hearts attuned.
We touch.
We share.
We still care
enough to like.
Enough to tell each other
You are heard.
You are loved.
You are heart
of my heart.
We are in this
together.
Filed under POETRY, Uncategorized
Already forgotten bell curves
overcome by spikes and pikes
carrying virus loads
up the nose.
No more waves
of predictability
nor general systems theories
of how things go.
if there are rules of pandemic,
they are rules lost in the mystery,
lost to a history
passed by and past off
by those who scoff
their vulnerability.
Roller coaster rides and pandemics
take away my breath.
Sudden falls after steep climbs
drop my stomach to my toes.
Harsh and sudden turns of phrase
bring fear of death
around each unexpected curve.
One does not mind a five minute ride,
hands held high on final descent;
with a grudging stop and final flop.
The ride softly ends as riders depart.
Unsteady feet steady once more
ready to explore the carousel, and bumper cars,
cotton candy and games of chance.
A three year ride is way too scary
and leaves us wary
of how, if at all, it will end.
With a bang or a whimper?
Or, a sullen long simmer, fall after fall
along rails beginning to wear ?
The ride must continue until all are loaded
with a vaccination, or two, or three;
maybe, more even than four.
The tickets were free,
but too many refused to take a shot
at ending the ride on time.
More climbs, more falls, more curves
until we are all sick to death or dying.
Filed under POETRY, Uncategorized
Need is alive and well
clumped, clutching the belly
where it often dwells.
Need rises heavily
and steadily
devours the will
posed on the tongue
fearing disclosure
until the body is wrung
out.
Out of time.
Out of strength.
Out of courage
to speak one’s mind.
Then, Need sinks below
The threshold;
travels down the spine
all the way to one’s toes
which curl against the road
before starting to run
away with thoughts.
Need circles around
and around
and around
Need cannot be out-run.
Need always finds a way
to be heard.
Filed under POETRY
I stopped the chide
against cloudy skies
dropped into the river basin
dug out by ancient glaciers.
This is the place of safety from the world
of western fires
of eastern floods
of northern blizzards
of southern tornadoes.
In the middle we lie low
where clouds settle un-seamed
to protect us from extremes.
I miss the sun.
The sun is fun
until it rapes the atmosphere
stripping it bare
Clouds clothe the Ohio Valley.
I welcome clouds’ embrace.
Filed under POETRY
A life of pretense
may be the only defense
against our greatest fears.
Truth lies undercover
lest we discover
we may not survive.
Committees and newsrooms hold tight
to the knowledge
which would allow us to acknowledge
the big spenders and pretenders
of climate and democracy,
the hidden autocracy.
Pretense is a fist clutched tight
by the side
ready to fight
once fear takes flight.
Do not be fooled.
Hang tight.
Filed under POETRY
A charming abuser draws ever near,
Invades our homes, workplaces and schools.
We plead. We beg. We offer rewards.
Leave us unharmed.
The abuser tells stories
To our family and friends
Of our perfidy and foolishness,
Pealing away all self-defense
And defense by those who should care.
The abuser threatens
Each breath we take,
Taking our bodies as his own
And filling hospital beds
with our battered bodies.
The law steps back to allow
His plunder, his blunder, his smirks.
Oh how it hurts
This worsening abuse,
Forming a union of abusers
Under banners of ant-vax, anti-mask,
Patriots, Republicans, conservatives
Powered by money and influence
And cowardice.
Filed under POETRY
