Tag Archives: change

VOTE BLUE

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

This blue earth,

this place of our birth,

grounds us against flight

from this tiny iron rock

hurtling through the dark.

And so, we hold on tight,

bathed in blue light,

sun reflected off ocean’s face,

keeping us in place.

We are cleansed by earth’s air,

a clear and free atmosphere.

We breathe in and then out,

Each breath removes any doubt

that we are of this world, in this place.

We hurtle through darkest space

on this earth, this hard rock

with all its hard knocks.

It is not our imagination.

The gravity of our situation

keeps us awake at night.

We are blue light 

against a dark sky.

Help earth and its people survive. 

Help keep freedom alive.

VOTE BLUE! 

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

FUTURE WAITS

Photo by Cleyton Ewerton on Pexels.com

Future refuses to talk.

She holds her cards close.

No expression crosses her face.

Her fierce calm holds us in place.

We gamble our fortunes, our lives,

within her unfathomable space.

Withholding breath we wait

to discover our curious fate.

“Play the cards you have,” 

she says,“before it is too late.”

The game here now will last until

each card has been played.

Holding onto cards 

means new presents are delayed.

The young know this better

than their elders do.

The young play with greater abandon,

unconscious of the heavy stakes

that keep my eyes open all night through, 

awake, until light from a new day

through the closed blinds seeps through.

A new day.

A new game.

Time to play.

Future cuts the cards.

No time to waste.

Vote!

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DOLDRUMS

Photo by Ju00c9SHOOTS on Pexels.com

The in-between times

seem wanting but never bore,

filled with dread galore.

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LATE SUMMER DAZE

LATE SUMMER, acrylic on canvass by Louise Annarino, 2024

The shades of summer pull slowly closed.

Sun drops quietly behind.

Shadows lengthen across grass carpets

moistened by the dew of cool nights

and warm days peaking through.

Autumn is on her way to paint

hot colors against cool blue skies.

Summer still lingers behind the shade

ready to surprise 

with summer heat intent

on a hot reprise.

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Filed under art work, POETRY

BEHOLD THE SKY

Photo by Max Andrey on Pexels.com

The river of color flows through the sky

weaving its way beneath and between

all that is seen and unseen.

Undulations of colors entwine 

the energy of the divine

with the hopes of humankind.

We fear the sky’s fall

bending our knees

hiding our eyes,

until we lose sight

of the wonder of it all.

Motion and change delight

and yet, we cannot grasp hold

of what is before our sight.

And this loss of control over the diversity 

and complexity of colorful skies

entraps and belies

a sense of self so small

it frightens us all.

The skies are not falling

simply because its colors shift.

The movement within the sky

can never send us adrift.

Gravity holds us all together,

keeps us spinning, it is true;

but, never allows us to go too far, too fast. 

It helps make the moments last

until we can understand

what we stand under,

an open sky which belongs to all.

Look up and behold the sky.

Reach up to touch the clouds.

Dance in the wind, bathe in the rain.

Never lose hope ever again.

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GRIEF

Photo by Kindel Media on Pexels.com

Everyone grieves in their own way, so they say.

But, steadfast Grief remains the same.

Lips once tilted in joy, Grief holds tight with the strain

of holding back anger and keeping screams at bay.

Grief tightens the brow and hardens the eye

to hold back the tears which threaten to slide

tearing apart all that we hold deep inside.

Cheeks held too tight crease 

and create runnels where tears may glide.

Grief clutches jaws held fearfully tight.

Once tears escape, will our held-back sobs fight

with a pulse so strong they can never be stopped?

Like a street thug, Grief pounds us into submission

and never takes time to ask our permission.

It pushes us down with pummels fierce and powerful.

Grief uses its bruising punches to keep us sorrowful.

We lie on hard pavements praying for the end to our suffering.

We feel we are losing our grip on reality.

We clutch at old truths, begging help to appear and lessen our sorrow.

Even Grief grows tired over time and lessens its blows.

Help comes when we unclench jaws and scream,  

and shout, and let our tears and fears outwardly flow.

Soften the eyes. Relax the brow. Let the tears flow. 

Tears wash away sorrow that new faith can be planted

in every tomorrow, with new ways to love

and new paths to follow.

Signs of grief always remain in new lines

that furrow about our lips, across the edge of our eyes,

and on necks which will, henceforth, our heads tip

slightly down, with greater humility, a bit.

Over time bruises heal, muscles grow stronger.

We learn we can handle the tough thugs who sit

on the sidelines, hidden in shadow.

We learn love again, embracing those who came to help.

We learn faith again, embracing those who prayed by our side.

We learn hope again, embracing those who helped us to our feet.

We stand again on loving, faith-filled, hopeful feet;

and, find a new path where joy and laughter can leads us.

We see our new selves in the eyes of those we pass.

We are stronger and last longer than Grief ever could.

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SNOW!

We often think that Spring brings our first hopes

of a new life, a new world, a new cause to celebrate.

We need not wait for Spring to hope.

Eight inches of snow fell silently and cloaked

the surfaces of note that set our scene,

a scene fearfully bleak which clouds all thoughts

of a fearless life, and hides the fear which lies below

our greatest hopes, limited by what, we do not know.

We fear the worst after watching the news

meant to keep us watching, our nerves hanging on every word.

Snow!

Snow changes our landscape in a moment.

The deeper the snow, the greater the wind, 

the more we see of all the possibilities 

to change the world we ache to know.

All darkness and decay disappears by end of day.

White whorls of snow cover every branch of every tree,

and shrub and shed. No tracks yet made by others 

who share this place with me.

The sun rises in  a fiercely blue sky and tracks appear

upon the new world of white light strewn across its face.

Snow!

Snow allows us to dream we can make all clean.

Our purity glows within each crystal caught by sunlight,

raising our spirits, capturing our innocence.

We believe we can change, too. All is right in a world draped in white.

My first hope does not wait for Spring.

It comes alive at the sight of the first big snow.

Snow reminds me that landscapes can change swiftly,

purely, beautifully aglow. Even war’s wounded landscapes

appear at peace when covered in snow.

Impoverished neighborhoods where crime rules breathe softly covered in snow.

Snow!

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KEEP BREATHING

KEEP BREATHING, acrylic on canvass, Louise Annarino

The world is wider than I recall

and emptier than it should be.

Where have so many millions gone?

Covid took too many from me.

Now, As I venture forth again

I note the changes new to me:

Fewer check out lines open

where I can chat with clerks

who may offer the only conversation

I shall have that day.

Longer waits in self-check-out lines,

for coffee, burgers, groceries, medications,

buses and airlines.

Play dates carefully screened and often up-ended

by bouts of surprise illness, unintended.

Careful scrutiny of each gathering attended

by risk-takers and isolaters frustrated

and ready to accept the fate

breathing without masks indicates.

The pace of life becomes a distraction.

Forward process toward goals proceeds

in fits and starts reducing our momentum.

It amazes me how well we all cope

with uncertain patterns not before seen,

futures unknown yet still filled with hope.

The one thing which has not changed

is our determination to remain the same,

to keep on the path to parts unknown,

to find an adventure far from home,

to explore new people, places and things.

We are still alive. We bravely take wing.

There is life to live and love to give.

There is love to receive and life to accept.

We constantly find faith deep within

that joy is still ours, if we only give in

to the need to connect with others

and breathe life in.

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AUTUMN SONG

Photo by David Selbert on Pexels.com

The birds and I are bereft of their brethren.

Eagles have left their nest along the Scioto behind.

Egrets and herons have left their stance in the ponds

to return to a hidden pre-historic time.

The ponds nearby are no longer over-run by geese on the fly.

Hummingbirds no longer hover and pass by.

Too quiet and too tame is the garden scene; 

no more fights over the bird bath.

No more winners to take wet bows.

Choruses no longer compete.

All is quiet except for the short, solemn cheep

of a brown sparrow looking for lost insects in the heap

of dropping leaves and wilting flower heads

weighed down by darkening-swelling seeds,

and cold nights, and morning fogs.

Winter’s notes hang briefly in the autumn air

drowning out bird song, as bees and insects weep.

The sun rises too low, for too short the hours needed

to warm the squirrels’ bowers and keep them safe.

Even faithful house wrens have moved on

taking with them a suitcase of song.

I remain behind, unable to follow along.

Night no longer allows the body to count

breaths in and breaths out, unable to time

the body’s rise and fall.

Quickened change distorts all

the moments of our lives.

We no longer know where we come from,

nor where we go.

Autumn is all upheaval

so much so

that we yearn for the heavy weight

of winter’s blanket of snow

to comfort us and control our breath,

to hold us safe, to hold us tight,

to quietly get us through the darkest night.

And so, I rise at first light

to gain as much insight

as shorter days allow.

I take up my pen and write

the silent rhythm of Autumn’s song.

I sing with all my quiet might.

Come, and sing along.

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HAIKU

TIME

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A single moment

is all. And time is only

a way to forget.

Photo by . . on Pexels.com

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