Friday, October 30, 2009

Pebble -- Poetry 2009

Winds up dislodging the last leaves
clinging to branch and twig...
evergreen needles release
and sail far from their base.
Out the door into a solid mist
hanging in the air... soaking
fur, clothing, and sneakers thoroughly.
Disintegrated detritus squishes
underfoot along sidewalk, road
shoulder or gravel park path.
Pest pebble wanders aimlessly
in my sneaker; jab... shift - jab...
shift... jab with every step.
Mist turns serious soaking
park bench or rock... jab... shift;
no dry place to remove the rotating
irritant... Wind gusts; heavy showers;
hitchhiking pebble poking; wet socks;
temporary discomfort for a short walk.



Drops of thought
drip down the drain
to be sanitized
by city sewage system.
Almost pure they flow
into Puget Sound
preserved in brine.

EMM 10/29/09

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Storm Front -- Poetry 2009

Half moon reflects strong light…
Moonbeam picket fence shimmers
across the woodland path.
Aspen trunks appear brushed
with iridescent silver.
A massive cloud bank pushes
forward a delicate skim of moisture
glazing the ultramarine sky.
The hard frontal edge races
to submerge the yin yang orb.
Moon’s halo engorges to double
its size within the time it takes
to complete our circuitous route.


Grandmother’s House on East Street -- Poetry 2009

Weekends found her small house pleasantly cluttered with family;
brothers, sisters, and in-laws gathered tightly around the kitchen table.
Tea kettle whistled; Woolworth 5 & dime white cups clattered on saucers;
weeks events unfolded laced with empathy, laughter and commiseration.
For the cousins… board games prevailed during inclement winter weather;
Spring and fall we were chased outside to leave the adults conversation.
Older cousins supposedly supervised the youngest… leading us astray
far from the house; they’d run off; leaving us to our own devices.
One time their dead eye aim - flinging mud balls from the brook –
trapped us on the upper hill for an hour; clustered flat on stomachs,
we had to wait them out without attempting to return the wads of mud.
Tea cups cleared to sink counter, milk to the fridge, reduced price A & P
pound cake back in the bread box, conversation ebbed - the night sped on.
“Time to go home” was our homing device; the light pouring from the open
back door was our beacon as deeper dusk settled over wood and field.
Older cousins checked in by the time we straggled through brambles,
overgrown pasture, finally crossing the demarcation line – the brook.
Safety found in our parent’s cars; a chorus of farewells resounded as car
doors slammed shut; engines came to life… headlights guided us home.
Carried from car to bed, cousin adventures occupied night dreams.

Wind Walk -- Poetry 2009

Wind clattered through branches;
A thousand pan flutes playing off key.
Exposed hands and face stung
from winds fierce kiss;
Breaths vapor ripped from nostrils.
Convocation of wind and cold
energized every cell of my being.
Corgis pranced with excitement.
String less leaf kites bombarded us
as gusts stripped branches bare.
Half moon and stars clearly visible
through naked deciduous canopy.
Dry leaves rustled and tumbled
ahead of us; wet leaves mashed
underfoot into the soggy path …
Accompaniments to the full throated
wind-whipped song of fall.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Tinnitus -- Poetry 2009

Snug in bed,
ears ring so loudly
sleeping is impossible…
Distracted by pitch
and constant whine,
my eyes drift
beyond walls;
Waiting for inspiration,
thinking is impossible.
Poised for action, pen
rests on blank page
spawning an ink glob;
a miniature Rorschach
that defies perception.
words fail appearance.
EMM 10/23/2009

Delicatessen -- Poetry 2009

Slick Leaves
soaked by deluges
clump together
floated by run off.
Too heavy to move
in the wind, decay begins.
Chlorophyll long gone…
Yellow leaves diminish
to earth browns.
An earth worms
before winter’s freeze.


Midnight Walk -- Poetry 2009

Un-grouted mosaic
clouds overlay
the night sky.
Allowing chance views
of an occasional star.
Strung out between
cracks these random
light bits give no clue
or link to constellations.
Appreciative to be
of compass or sextant
for a midnight walk.

EMM 10/23/2009

Tires Whirl

Tires whirl heavy spray
from torrential downpour;
Four lanes of traffic
hydroplane on rainbows.
Burst of sunlight…
prisms rise in the air
encompassing vehicles
racing somewhere at top speed…
Sky rainbow touches
down amongst concrete ribbons
of I-5 both North and South.
Impossible to GPS,
It’s illusive location;
no one slowed
or bothered to try their luck.
Osmosis of riding rainbows
warm and dry sufficed.

EMM 10/23/2009

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Minding -- Poetry 2009

Minding my own business with simple
daily tasks of checking email,
updating website and poetry blog -
Abrupt demoralization descended-
The weight of my universe
convulsed stopping thought.
My body ached with emptiness.
A weariness and depression
stuck to me; clinging to this web,
I floundered in deep despair
unable to fathom the loss of heart.
With the advent of several tears rolling
down my cheek, a sigh escaped my lips
reminding me of the high pitched whine
of a web trapped insect fighting to be free.
Within a breath or two, hopelessness
reversed leaving puzzlement in its wake.


Friday, October 16, 2009

Sultry -- Poetry 2009

Sultry… this night air is positively sultry.
The wind direction must have changed
rotating the storm in from the south.
So humid that moisture mist floats
ten feet off the ground; miniature fog
drifts around houses in ghost fashion.
Drizzle starts - sounding like teakettle steam
building to a crescendo soaking my sweatshirt.
Tree branches and evergreen bough provide
cover over sidewalks coated in fallen leaves.
Tapering off, the drips begin… every surface
relinquishes to gravity the accumulated water.
A rich rhythm full of complex repetition and tone
resounds in the night; our soggy steps a steady
backbeat; intermittent traffic blends white noise
into the surround sound performance.

Denied Night Magic -- Poetry 2009

Denied night magic…
no stardust or moonbeams.
Constellation form and pattern
lost to the naked eye.
Cloud masses defy revelation.
North Star or brightest full moon
can’t blast though Pacific Northwest
layers of winter storm stratus…
dark and dreary even during night,
the squalls sweep in from ocean
loaded with moisture for deluge.
Under fluorescent glow of randomly
placed plastic ceiling stars, I wait
for a spellbinding spring night sky.


Tidying -- Poetry 2009

Pulled into a tidying warp,
I sort papers, move art supplies,
clear away mounds of clutter.
Fall descends shortening daylight;
Mid October brings the first winter
storms pounding day and night.
Horizontal rain smacks windows;
Time to hunker down – warm and dry –
Creativity expands; productivity thrives
despite leaden light from metal gray skies.


Sifting -- Poetry 2009

Sifting… shifting in night’s quiet.
Ink pen flows mimicking a stick
racing deeply through dry sand.
Inner windscreen words relinquished,
captured before disconnection
by elements or time.
Semi permanent black ink

adheres to blank pages...
longhand immersed into cotton fiber
reveal a soul’s reflection.


Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Alarm Clock -- Poetry 2009

Disturbing alarm clock beeps jolting me,
extinguishing dream world voyages.
Dim light seeping through the curtain
heralds the overcast sky oozing moisture.
Reluctant to abandon warmth infused
covers for encasement with day skin…
I hoard the comfort as long as possible
avoiding the inevitable layers of subterfuge.


Night Shivers -- Poetry 2009

Middle of the night shivers wake
me out of fathomless dream depths…
a one-of-a-kind chill – deep prolonged.
The private world of dreams,
a sanctuary from reality, invaded
by shuddering muscle spasms.
Awake, I wait willing my body
to relax despite clocks glow of 3am.
Somewhere between wakefulness
and full sleep, I float through a log
jam of thought – day dreaming –
sleeping a life away when awake.
Not really alive nor certifiably dead
but detached between realities.


Passion -- Poetry 2009

If you have passion why not dream…
but what if the dreams are all you have.
First I wanted to be a nurse like my Aunt
Beth - independent women for her time;
she bucked traditional role of homemaker,
marrying my uncle later in life... scandalously
older than him, they moved to San Diego;
a mentor removed from my proximity.

Declining the idea of oceanographer or veterinarian…
too big a financial investment to follow my true passion.
Glorified by TV moms, religion and exemplified by family,
a lifetime marriage culminating in a golden anniversary.
Typical by product of the 50’s, I only wanted marriage:
a happy homemaker, gardening and children.
My twist to this model life – a mini farm -
growing herbs, raising goats and a farm stand.

My oldest Aunt Chris dabbled in the arts.
recognizing untapped ability in her niece,
she encouraged me to pursue being an art teacher;
mom agreed as nursing and teaching were
solid choices for a women even in the early 60’s.
Shifted dream was to teach a few years, marry
and begin that happy family ever after.

Depression clung long after the dissolution
of marriage – divorce ended the happy ever after.
I learned the lesson that:
Life events can wear away the passion…
Life events can distract from a chosen purpose…
Life events can incinerate goals…
Dreams may be all you have.


Curse or Blessing -- Poetry 2009

An invocation, an invitation to magic…
My mind shifts whenever I enter my art studio -
what will happen if or why not try this.
Experimentation, ignoring rules, playing,
pushing technique and materials to their limit…
creativity is an unusual gift.


Thursday, October 8, 2009

Hands Crusted with Paint

Globs of sage tinted primer adhere in nonconformist
patterns to my hands; more than green thumbs
from painting my neighbor’s house exterior.
Absorbed in our individual tasks…
a spider colleague expanded a ladder segment web.
Dangling trapeze style as I repositioned the ladder;
swinging to and fro until set in place it would begin again.
Sun cast shadow of a spinner at work making a web;
My brush diligently applies a protective coat to siding.
Side by side a fall afternoon spent with a silent companion.


Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Stargazing -- Poetry 2009

Waning moon ascends behind evergreens…
a halo extending into the cobalt sky.
Most of the world at rest while I inexplicably
propel myself through a habitual night venture.
Majesty of the night condenses solitude;
Lacking colors of day - reduced to black and white.
Routine progress interjected with past images.
Sifting through memories, pin pricks of starlight
or moonbeams give faint illumination to clarify
the random storage of long dormant events.
Reverie curtailed … stooping to retrieve dog
droppings enveloped in flashlights beam,
thoughts radically shift to plastic bag in hand.


Monday, October 5, 2009

How Simple -- Poetry 2009

How simple - so obvious
why I generate a consistent
mile concentric course:
Less distraction and quiet at night.
Muted sound enveloped in darkness
accomplishes moving meditation.
In and out of shadow, I wend
through fundamental thoughts:
dry, fog, or rainfall;
summer heat or winter chill;
with or without moon or stars.


Cildhood Beliefs -- Poetry 2009

"After one has abandoned a belief in god,
poetry is that essence which takes its place
as life's redemption." From Opus Posthumous
by Wallace Stevens, born in Reading, Pennsylvania (1879).

Childhood beliefs - including religious indoctrination -
remain behind closed doors in my mind along
with a jumbled collection - more useless information –
stuffed into a closet that occasionally threatens to burst…
Candace was her name – she was my very best friend
in Sunday School… she had cerebral palsy or something.
Twisted body, crutches, leg braces - her effervescent
smile touched me – we had a special bond.
Screaming No! No! No! When told she had died…
I cried hysterically in that dingy dusty classroom
surrounded by posters representing traditional Jesus.
At 6 years old, I abandoned belief in that God.
Oh, I continued to go to church – it was a family thing -
But I hated it and stayed on the outside observing.
Writing and art shifted to be my life’s redemption…
During extreme stress even that was lost for a time;
Safely tucked in pockets of my mind to be retrieved
when working my way back to the light through
word and image.


Bathed in Moonlight -- Poetry 2009

Bathed in moonlight, the Corgis
pad along in tandem their russet
coats crusted with moonbeams.
Tart night air nips at hands and face;
Steam locomotive puffs of breath
burst visible with steady rhythm.
Increasing pace, our course races
through Luna’s sterling shimmer.

EMM 10/4/2009

Sunday, October 4, 2009

Waking from Dreams -- Poetry 2009

Tumbling around –
words dried in my mind.
I couldn’t get them to paper.
Moisture removed…
they crumbled
into bits and pieces of alphabet.
A lint trap full of potential
if I could scrabble
them back together.

EMM 10/3/2009

Fall Rains -- Poetry 2009

I prefer the dark of night for its solitude…
even so I dislike the short light days of Fall.
This season brings a very specific energy…
A natural slowing down, more observation
as the light slips away and darkness prevails.
Mid October signals the beginning of winter rains
that turn torrential by November as storms roll
turning the Pacific Northwest to shades of gray;
people dull down from summer brightness.
Liquid sounds mask normal conversations:
tires splash through puddles and hiss down streets;
a cacophony of drops and drips persists daily;
gutters gurgle carrying the excess to ground level;
winds rattle and weave through evergreens.
Reflections of other light forms dominate –
car headlights and taillights skim wet asphalt;
lamps spill light from windows across soggy lawns;
streetlights barely illuminate their designated areas;
the gray sucks the life out of frail light sources.
Concentrated city light of downtown Olympia
reflects off the almost constant cloud cover…
marking its place in the inundated universe.
Holed up with cups of tea or coffee, good books,
and indoor activities or entertainment the inhabitants
wait out the precipitation.
EMM 10/1/2009

Friday, October 2, 2009

Good Read --- Poetry 2009

First rainstorms roll in to create a second
spring of sorts – plants relish rain’s onset
after summer’s extreme dryness.
My brains are in my back pocket.
So ditzy lately – forgetting simple
follow-up tasks equals disorganization:
piles of papers cover the desk and counter;
corgi hair tumbleweeds roll across the floor;
dishes stacked at angles fill the sink.
Energy rush to finish yard or outside chores
and put food up has petered out –
left me listless in the fall’s lowering light;
sunsets at 7 pm make for hibernation plans.
Allergies kick in… time to wrap in blankets
with large cups of tea and a good read.
EMM 9/30/2009

Isolation -- Poetry 2009

Isolation… the age of the internet
promotes dissociation while putting us
in contact with the world at large.
Addiction to the flickering screen
shifted from television to the PC.
No need for phone conversations
or handwritten correspondence…
just email, tweet, click on comment,
type text messages; marking – who,
what, when, where, why and how…
recognition of an existence
in this electronic based world.

Emm 9/29/2009

Stretch -- Poetry 2009

I need to stretch my legs;
roam in the wilderness…
watch the unpredictable
Mother Nature at work.
Understand that chaos
is inherent in all our lives.

Emm 9/28/2009

Clouds -- Poetry 2009

Guided by invisible shepherds, the cloud herd
of sheep ambles toward the descending moon.
Border collies keep the group close together.
Moving over treetops in a star dusted sky,
they disappear into the dark horizon.

EMM 9/27/2009