Sunday, May 30, 2010

doppelganger -- Poetry 2010

letting all things pass
racing toward life
beckoning freedom’s taste
not a harbinger of doom
but a lighter spiritual side
a true manifestation
not relinquishing challenges
just being

hard to be believed…
I’m not in any
way, shape or form
I hang on to anything
and everything
storing past disappointments
like a winter firewood stack
saved year after year
until it rots unused
my creativity rots unused
trying to control everything

ephemeral doppelganger
existing only briefly
a reminder how transitory
my life is…


Practical -- Poetry 2010

Decompression is desperately needed…
Too much stress from making do with so little income…
with my cat, I watched the next door rental college
kids blowing off steam party from the back of my house.
My memories have begun to fade but I never experienced
free-for-all parties, sloppy drunks, exaggerated laughter
during college – I belonged to the quiet dorm group…
the ones that stayed in, ate popcorn and watched movies
all weekend between doing homework… the good ones.
The wild ones staggered in, vomited in their sleep, asked
what did I do last night? as they held their hangover heads,
and unbelievably went out and did it all over again and again.

Its not a practical dream but its fun to fantasize about…
How would my life be different if I had been a wild one?
Glibly destroying gray cells when partying out each
weekend; wearing the latest racy fashions to frat parties;
taking the pill and sleeping around with lots of nameless guys…
waking up with killer nausea, pounding head, bloodshot eyes
while being told I danced topless on the frat house bar.
No, it seems the perceptions laid out in such a scenario
are so foreign to my internal structure that the path I
have traveled successfully satisfies all my unnamed rules…
I accept my place in this quiet excursion in that it could
just as easily be the result of a full life of determined observation…
Setting struggle aside - I am my work; my work is me:
sharing, teaching, creating and fulfilling spirit’s passion.


Saturday, May 29, 2010

My Life is VERY Full -- Poetry 2010

I'm an A+ student of life
with a steady running list of things to do;
I can not carry the weight of it all.
My hamster wheel is wedged tightly
against the corner, I’m supposed to be
doing… check this heavy weight list…
but don’t feel like doing squat!
Can’t make today fall into place;
everything I start has complications…
exactly how much centrifugal force
is needed to spin this day forward?
The only good news though - I just found
a twenty dollar bill in my jeans pocket
that I didn't know I had…
still contemplating how to spend it.
It’s hardly enough for a meal; I can't afford
another hobby…I've decided that I must
remain ignorant of new diversions
for my over tasked synapses but I like
what you just described:
two tablespoons of weed killer and it just falls out…
I feel no lack as imagination is my teacher
despite radiating disturbing demonic feng shui
in my immediate surroundings today…
but then I woke up…


Doris Day Z -- Poetry 2010

We’re missing something…
In retrospect, not a best-behavior friend
more like a small holy terror tearing about.
Dee Dee had a particularly colorful tail,
one ear that was disturbingly crumpled…
Strongest persona for a five pound package
of white fur blotched with ochre and black.
Her motto - “I am she who must be obeyed”…
radically hissing her displeasure, she could be
seen as the most troublesome of the bunch,
or at least, she was right in the thick of disturbances.
Devastatingly quick to smack the fifteen
pound male cats when their disagreements arose.
The two toms lived in mortal fear of her claws;
gave her a wide berth; melted in her iron gaze.
Pushed underneath the bed skirt,
I recently excavated her basket of toys;
Deliberately she would empty that basket
strewing the contents over her continent.
I miss her feisty attitude, her sense of righteousness,
her unbending will to insure peace at a price…
a regal queen ruling over her domain.


Icons -- Poetry 2010

deleted by time
or disgrace of bad habits
or unease of incurable illness
talented souls who spent
their lives driven by muses
are drawn into the black hole
of death and oblivion…
newer novice discoveries
weave into view thanks
to more powerful telephoto lenses
presenting fresh digital images
to aging fan eyes
presenting new names
that fail to be memorized
presenting new voices
to tag for recognition
this venerable generation
wonder where their youthful icons went
as old stars slowly become depleted
this weathered generation
wonder their fate in the time continuum
seeing their stars grow physically dim
causes a clash with frozen memories
bursting ageless celluloid visions


Friday, May 28, 2010

Another Night of Insomnia -- Poetry 2010

Thinking about my somnolent future,
it won't quit bleeping raining – day or night;
the sun has been hiding all month.
Brain torques, I've played your little game
of sleeplessness… time to switch you off.
Resuscitating a doze, I had a vision:
a sun icon showed in my monthly forecast.
I was living in a little sea side cottage;
salt-spray roses full of orange hips and blooms
perfumed the beach where I ran barefoot
on the sand wearing a cute blue romper.
Terns pirouetted and exclaimed above my head
while I splashed through the warm shallows.
Stopping occasionally to refuel, I eat crackers,
apples and Brie with a glass of wine… that's all I saw.
At face value this is interesting because I miss Cape
Cod vacations that always renewed my dreary soul.


Moon Muse -- Poetry 2010

cycles through
my evening
soul sojourns…
another month
another thirty miles
has me looking forward
to a lunar eclipse –
sun, earth, and moon
aligned exactly…
a very special night
a Pagan connection
to ancient mysticism.

on this moonrise,
multiplied by a factor
of one thousand
I won’t take you
up on your offer
to accompany me
because its already
a case of your delinquent
desire which concerns
possession and transmutation
disturbing my equilibrium
on this sacred excursion.


Thursday, May 27, 2010

Butterflies -- Poetry 2010

Feel the fear:
Hair standing on end
Hear the fear:
Thumping blood pressure
See the fear:
Eyes wide, pale complexion
Speak it out loud…
Strengthen resolve
Voice it louder
Share it with friends
Bring it out into light
Bring it into the circle
Break its contagious spell
Smash its crippling power
Vaporize it into nothingness
Leaving the prismatic promise
Of a new adventure in its place…


Filling my World -- Poetry 2010

As fast as I can move my pencil
across blank pages: scraps of paper,
torn envelopes, notebooks…
when the surging torrent explodes
tearing out festering thoughts;
a pimple bursting infectious ooze
from damp recesses of inner brain.
The words drain leaving me immune
from further regret, guilt or should haves…
a miracle in itself, impromptu healing.


Wednesday, May 26, 2010

that imaginary boyfriend -- Poetry 2010

He isn't in a talkative mood
quiet, contemplative, laid back
just the way I want him today
so I can concentrate on creating.
I'm still twitchy after that terrible marriage;
my last attempt at a "relationship";
a few men might ponder an approach
but I always like that imaginary guy best.
Most men need allot of attention
and time that us busy types don't have.
Since mine is imaginary, he can be re-imagined
over and over in a variety of ways…
green eyed, tall dark handsome
blue eyed, blond and silkily swarthy
grey eyed, bald and great listener
brown eyed, brown haired nurturer.
At a moments thought an infinite variation,
I’m enjoying testing the waters listing
as many conceivable combinations
of positive attributes because when
all is said and done its not chiseled
features and buff body that count;
its not chandelier swinging sex
or filthy rich wearing designer labels;
its supportive companionship…
the right guy will love all that I am
and I will love all that he is…


Shark Eyes -- Poetry 2010

Ignoring frequent emails, time wasting lame jokes,
politely saying I have other plans when called…
I do not know why you still try to come around here
there's a lot going on in my life, I have no time for you
or your pseudo kindness hiding layers of selfishness.
Why do I still attract the crazy makers?

Its been a while since anyone has asked me out
but then He shows up, at first invited but soon
just another male ready to slowly devour my soul
until I realize I’m rescuing a slick critter again;
until I get sick of his taking advantage of me;
until I realize this is back to that pattern of victimization;
before his gastric acid renders me dissolved, regurgitated,
pabulum for vultures who aren’t fussy about what they consume…
I release him to move on to the next lonesome soul with his
teddy bear softness, engaging remarks and shark eyes…

I am thankful I recognized the signs: lack of listening skills
and integrity, overbearing opinions, ruse of injuries;
I am thankful that I didn’t lend him money;
I am thankful that I didn’t sleep with him;
I am thankful that I can rely on myself;
I am thankful to be alone and whole…
If a relationship happens, it happens.
I have love to give but not to squander on users, abusers…
who disguise themselves in shades of companionship
who entangle you in their twisted volume of tall tales
who take innate pleasure in crimping your exposed heart
temporarily withering your spirit and trust…


Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Beginning to End -- Poetry 2010

coming into the world
hungry for nourishment
needing total care
for feeding
for bodily functions
for bathing
fragile frame
soft skin
bald head
blank mind
waiting to be filled

going out of the world
needing total care
for movement
for nourishment
assistance with bodily functions
assistance for bathing
bones become brittle
skin wrinkles and dries
losing hair
blank mind
memory disperses and fades


Blank Paper -- Poetry 2010

After setting the project’s parameters,
I catch the looks on student faces
as they receive the stark white paper…
Some stare intently at the blank surface
Some sign their name in a corner
Some fidget in their chairs looking at either
side to see what their classmates have started
or still contemplating the direction of my words
stare off into space with vacant eyes…
I never intend to define for anyone what terms
define imaginative thinking; it's difficult to
encourage and protect something that one
has to discover for one's self…
the ability to express their soul’s uniqueness.


Mending -- Poetry 2010

pencil worn flat dully creates
fuzzy words smeared smudged
into graphite grey oblivion
soft marks lacking sharpness
transcribed by weakened hand
transverse her world in slow arcs and dips
thought guides her tightly gripped moves
achingly wrought through empty space…
pressing dark indentations when emotions
stream from her ruptured heart
lacking voice – hoarse from decay –
she scribbles to convey the pain;
threading the needle of her domain
she sews her gapping loss back together
stitch by lonely stitch…


Maps -- Poetry 2010

Can you read where I’ve been?
Roads from here to no where
crisscross my weary palms.
This intricate spider web to infinity
is weathered, scared, blemished,
embedded with callused memory.
Nicks and scrapes of pain, grief,
anger leave their tell tale mark;
Hieroglyphics recording past events
on an impermanent skin substrate.
For now, permanently marking
my being until flesh falls away
from bone; soul escapes this captive
cage abandoning delusions, misperceptions,
addictions as the finite map dissolves…


Happily Ever After -- Poetry 2010

It seems like every couple of nights
I am standing somewhere, looking up
thinking how it makes me sad
when you must comment to me
when you use that tone of voice
when you smile saying cruel things
when you try to make me feel guilty
when you say you never said that
I’m confused, constricted, cautious…
My mind is as thick and cold as
refrigerated hot fudge sauce waiting
to coat this rocky road ice cream life.
Watching the stars through fogged glass
rocking or walking around the table gently
bouncing the colicky baby back to sleep…
both of us crying in the dark living room;
hanging onto each other our tears meld.
I thought this was happily ever after
until your insidious persona change.
Perhaps I just saw the true reflection
on darkened window panes in deepest night…


Monday, May 24, 2010

Birds in the Night -- Poetry 2010

Do you know what dream I had…
birds, a combined flock of crows, robins,
stellar jays, warblers, starlings, doves
flying at me from a bedroom corner.
Cowering under the comforter,
I can’t get them away from me;
squawking, pecking, scratching…
pulling the covers tighter over my head,
my heart is racing, pounding, tasting
freedom – hall light’s soft glow permeates
my cover; there is respite beckoning
through the open bedroom door.
If only I carried a purse but I threw mine
into the fish aquarium on the nightstand…
my to-do list will be indiscernible by morning.
My thoughts scurried, the fabric was tearing…
inner voices scream, take a risk, run for it…
legs churning caught in the top sheet,
I lurched awake to a deafening dark silence.
Difficult to decipher – am I low on the pecking order?
Divinely disappointed, I didn't get to finish my dream
but relieved that a to-do list was washed clean…


Sunday, May 23, 2010

Wagon Circle -- Poetry 2010

Rumble of shopping carts
Wheels slightly askew
Bounce off of brick walls.
The crone homeless
Circle the town center
In full view of the dignitaries
Planning to announce
The successful clean up
Of the indigent camps
Along the city’s park trail.

Bereft of husbands
Lacking stable income
Wracked with age’s decline,
they banded together…
a flock of gaunt elders
once embraced for their beauty
now eschewed for wrinkles and decay
pushing a cart full of belonging
dragging a bag of failed dreams
carrying a face full of pain and sorrow
out into the open, into full view…
rolling in a tight circle wheels askew.


Contemplating My Day -- Poetry 2010

The party winds down leaving a gorgeous mess…
scraps of fabric, paper, ribbons, photos used
to construct pastel prayer flags and soul collages
overlapping our dreams with solid support
of the sky blue art center’s plaster walls.

I'm home now; my hair smells like incense.
I've also had caffeine laced with sugar…
Cup after cup of ceremonial prepared tea
so I'm not sure sleep will visit soon enough
while still bathing in the exhilarating feeling
of shared spontaneous creative release.

Saturday morning is made for barking dogs, baby’s giggles,
beautiful scenery, birds full throated calls, lawn mowers
raucous roars, cats purrs, bicycle bells, BBQ gatherings.
Its so hard to be awake right now. I just want to go back
to my room and sleep for a few more hours relishing
dreams beneath uncomplicated protective covers.
So far it’s all about boob-tube, breakfast and cozy afghan;
stupefied from renewal, contemplating my next desire.


Stupid Dream? --- Poetry 2010

night smells delicious so full of blooms -
lilac, apple blossoms, rhododendrons
spring blended into a mutt perfume
a nice late walk; it's calm as a napping cat...
I feel like I’m waiting for something that isn’t
going to happen in the time I have left to me.
I sing, hum, whistle, breathe out, relieving
stress as the dogs trot along in tandem.
I'm already up an hour past my bed time
traipsing under stars soft glow…
You have no idea how much I think about
needing to wake up from this stupid dream.
I should Google and see what delusions
of making it as a late blooming artist means.
I should check my goals; am I am off base?
I thought if you follow your dream the money
will come? Wasn’t that a book I read once?
I see workshops offered that help focus things
that you want to have, be, do, or bring into your life
I’m no daydream doctor...but my self advice question:
“Are your goals too high and impossible to realize
or are you aiming for complacency and failure?”
The night’s aroma therapy infuses the senses
soothing my midnight ramblings…


Saturday, May 22, 2010

Temporal -- Poetry 2010

In a room without windows
a visitor made an inquiry
sent a microscopic metaphor
communicating not to worry
observe the relevant visions
lucid silence happens
when grey horse dreaming
sequestered arrival embosses skin
across ephemeral levels…
ether, air, fire, water, earth
across the four directions…
North, South, East, West
turbulent time travel
without mechanization
In a room without doors


Friday, May 21, 2010

Violation -- Poetry 2010

running through a sea of shame
I hide my nakedness with my hands
pebbles and rocks tear at my feet
my screams are caught in my throat
branches whip my arms
brambles rip my legs
sweat and tears sting my eyes blind
burning lungs wrenched short of air

running, running, running

To where the earth meets the sky
To where the sun and moon collide
To where the stars no longer shine
I fall to ground
I fall sinking into the soil
Worms caress my worn ragged skin
Beetles crawl over its bleeding surface
I am the forgotten
I am turning to dust
I am free from violation


Thursday, May 20, 2010

Paean of the Crone -- Poetry 2010

Crone heart be strong
Ride the raven’s wing
Across an indigo blanket sky
studded with tomorrow’s wishes

Crone heart be calm
Float in azure liquid
Washing yesterday’s sorrows
And pain downstream

Crone heart be adventurous
Swing through treetop canopy
Moving with agile grace
Breath deeply delicious night smells

Crone heart be open
Release protecting sepals
unfold bud’s tight petals
inhale the sweet perfume
take in beauty and joy

Crone heart be true
Leap through field and forest
Carrying future’s dreams
On your sturdy back
Bugle the promise of hope


Sorting -- Poetry 2010

After my Mom passed away
I sorted through her things
my face flushed and mottled
heavy with grief, soggy with tears
clogged nose barely took in her scent.
Her soap, shampoo, perfume, deodorant.
and natural body odor permeated them.
I handled her clothing one last time:
Piles to wash
Piles for Goodwill
Piles for trash
Piles for keeping
Piles to sell
Her favorite sweaters, pants and shirts
seemed to hold more - not just her scent.
Was it just my torn raw emotional state?
I picked up the shoes she wore daily…
a flash of her energy vibrated in my hands,
caressing the worn brown leather, I wept…


Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Placement -- Poetry 2010

I joke about staking out a place
under a local bridge
there are several choice locations
some with great vistas
preferably in a low traffic area
especially for daytime naps
I've already scoped out a nice shopping cart
now I just need a refrigerator box so I can start
my carefree life as a Bag Lady Ellen
that has a nice ring to it
I’d go by BLE and throw myself into
totally recycled constructions
bringing myself into the public eye
as an itinerant artist living free
my time would totally be mine
daily exploring nature first hand
especially integrating how little one needs
it’s not about material possessions…


OK Wake Up, It's Ringing -- Poetry 2010

saddled with unconventional people
I'll settle for: sane, sober, employed
and on speaking terms with a bar of soap
being a adult can be very, very exhausting
I don't remember Mom telling me how weary I'd feel
definitely something about that trial by fire thing
I wish everyone would come to their senses
far better than finding yourself ceaseless
with a soul that remained un-awakened
after being laid off my life wasn’t carefree
but I have adjusted my coloring habits accordingly

once a friend of the family gave me crayons…
coloring the sky green, grass orange, tree leaves black,
people and clothing the most hideous colors in the box
gave me a unique perspective on my reality
I had a choice to color how I saw my surroundings
not what others viewed and imposed upon me
I can color inside or outside the lines I create
I’m not restricted by their implications of rightness
I raised the bar, nothing is impossible to do
I’m qualified to do anything with so little
life is ringing and oh so colorful


Not My Theme -- Poetry 2010

been riding a good mood
for about a week now
it can go out like a light
think how when it rains
skies close in with wet and grey
weight of the heavens sink
down depressing the earth
energy slows to a crawl
times are tough my friends
is usually not my theme
but I see this in the future
being blasé to the environment
technology will eventually replace
nature with light boxes, basking
in perennial glow of balanced radiance
surrounded by dying trees and grass
permanently stunted plastic plants
Styrofoam birds without song
taxidermist animals dot future landscapes
the world is dissolving quickly
I don't know what to do
I feel like doing something
somehow all humanity has somewhere to go
as this voracious greed speeds the end…


Tuesday, May 18, 2010

The One and Only -- Poetry 2010

There was a time in my life
when I searched for a soul mate.
All the women’s magazine articles
had success stories filling their pages
with how to attract and keep The Man.
Wear this, smell like that, be an attentive
listener; keep him happy at home…

I thought I had found one…
He was different
He was a pseudo hippy
He was unpredictable
He was mostly unemployed
He was smarter than anyone else
He snarled at his mother
She gave him whatever he asked for

Now that I had him I did all I could
to keep him happy; I bent, twisted,
rolled, gave all of myself to him…
until I had nothing left to give;
I couldn’t leave his side
I lost my mind
I suffocated my soul
I silenced my free spirit
I died for him.

When I became an empty shell
He turned on me
He became belligerent
He ridiculed
He berated
He was predictable in his abuse
He snarled spewing profanities at me
I had given him everything he asked for


Tidy Boxes -- Poetry 2010

Our skulls appear tidy…
Clean hair with or without dye
Clean faces with or without makeup
Eyes clear with or without glasses
Appearances fairly neat and orderly
With or without embellishments of earrings,
hats, scarves, ribbons, hair gels…

Peer inside the skull…
Mounds of useless information
Hoards of clutter fill every empty synapse
Antiquated ideas out maneuver new
Wasteful interference bogs down clarity with static
Gumming up the process of logical thinking
Allowing a drizzle of thoughts to collect in fetid pools
Constantly dripping through attempts at concentration
Contaminating dribble of monkey mind prevails
Until interrupted by meditation or creative activity
A welcoming silence from endless raucous chatter…


Monday, May 17, 2010

This Day -- Poetry 2010

started with everything
up in the air
I wake up like that a lot
restless sleep
isn't sure if the meds stopped working
or the crazy got stronger
but somethings sure as hell different
exactly where am I
exactly what am I doing
day is whizzing by
been going at top speed
supposed to be doing…
supposed to be going…
I must wrangle my thoughts
barely dented my to do list
benefits and blessings
of women my age
as my mother said I would
accept my own self more
learn what giving and grace,
selfless and sacrifice, really mean
by becoming and being
bringing into my life
understanding and love
time to take it and run with it
I am doing my body good
I am doing my mind good
I am amazed and grateful
things naturally found their place
worked themselves out
in remarkable ways
being able to and ready to
come through the dark days
shedding the outer layers
revealing my sacred soul
basking in illumination
unharmed, unhurt, safe


Vegetables vs. Perennials -- Poetry 2010

Grubbing in the sun warmed soil puts me
back in the garden with my Dad.
He grew the vegetables, meticulous plots,
one for corn and one for the all the rest;
bowls full of strawberries, cups of blueberries,
buckets of green beans, carrots and potatoes.
I followed him around becoming his right
hand garden pal or whatever else he was doing:
painting the house, cleaning the chicken coup;
butchering the chickens; cultivating, mowing.
We’d pause while weeding to munch a warm
tomato or snatch a cucumber off the vine…
Once the harvest rolled in, Mom and Dad stayed
up late canning I fell asleep to the metallic sound
of jar lids snapping sealed as they cooled down..

Smelling the rich earth puts me back
beside the fragrant perennials…
I was Mom’s right hand flower garden pal,
I followed her around mimicking all her chores:
cleaning, making beds, doing the laundry,
cooking, planting, thinning, weeding.
In helping, I pulled seedling “pinks” thinking
they were weeds; I plucked the lilies’ buds
thinking they were spent; her collapsed face
showered in disappointment, disbelief at my well
intentioned misdeed stung as much as nettles…
Summer bouquets filled our house; their scent
hung in the hot summer night’s air, filling
my dreams with innocent sweetness.

Time is closing in… each season seems
to come and go more quickly every year.
Being in touch with the natural cycles, season
to season is inherent to my well being, patterned
from a childhood of walking barefoot in beloved
vegetable and perennial gardens…


Sunday, May 16, 2010

Gardeners -- Poetry 2010

Dusted with soil, we unwind kinks -
so nice of you to spend the day
with me desperately weeding:
pulling monstrous thorny weeds,
dandelions as big as dinner plates,
a proliferation of Maple seedlings,
indefinable miscellaneous sprouts.
After hours of bending, kneeling
using hand scrapers, hoes…
vegetable garden is nearly cleared.
The spring rush to tame nature’s
bounty of native plants…
Will we ever walk upright again?


Another -- Poetry 2010

blanket cuddles
hardly make up
for lack of another
leaning against form
but not substance
seeking comfort
fooling myself
into feeling the touch
the warmth of grace
alone in the night...


Exponentially -- Poetry 2010

I know… I know…
it goes round
and round
this discussion
without conclusion;
circular in nature
this diatribe
always ends…
I just don’t know.

no new information
no new solutions
no new strategies
same old problem
crops up over and over

you’ll know
when you’ve had enough;
you’ll know
when you can’t take it
you’ll know
its time to leave…
just like I left your father.


Saturday, May 15, 2010

Another Winters Passing -- Poetry 2010

I don’t feel like thinking about this…
scheduling fall classes.
I’m restless
I desire to be outside
I’m resentful to be staring
at this computer screen.
I’m dispassionate about planning
for the fall…
I want to stare at the new leaves,
the clouds moving in, the sunset;
I want to hear the birds sing goodnight
songs, listen to the breeze rustling,
the frogs’ rasping call as night descends.
I want to feel the air cooling, gentle
wind on my skin, warm soil in my hands.
I want to smell the earth, Puget Sound’s
salty scent, flowers blooming…
Most of all, I desire to taste you, kiss you,
roll in your arms; embracing spring in our souls…


Solar Halo -- Poetry 2010

Serendipity to look, a plane flew over;
an old bi-plane, that’s why I looked up.
A sun halo can be subtle, this one is huge.
Not something to be stared at, nope,
just tree shade glimpses of wispy edges.
Who hasn’t been warned not to stare at the sun?
Sneaking occasional peeks while sprinkling seeds,
patting them down, watering them in, labeling
the future carrots, beets, lettuce, and more…
Still there, still astounds me, an Enso floating aloft;
Symbol of the beginning and end brushed
into high level vapor catching passing sunrays.
Perfect rainbow hued circle composing a fleeting
meditative record of spiritual achievement…


Friday, May 14, 2010

Critic’s Voices -- Poetry 2010

Every day of my life, little voices rattle
around waiting to have a conversation
until literally I think-scream shut up...
Just zip it… Zip… It.
Foes of mind kind in general,
the internal critics constantly
blather on and on citing faults,
major and minor, a wicked buzz
almost impossible to block out.
If I ignore the whine long enough,
it goes away for a spell…
I envision giving them each a big hug
one by one because love your enemy
keep them close is a good rule to live by.
The best times… being united
with my ancient mentor voice.
Just when I need guidance the most,
this delicate inspirational being overrides
critical mass bringing solace and truth;
the obnoxious critics are left to find
something to do on their own.
I suspect they turn on one another;
A free fall of criticism frothing,
foaming, slipping out of focus…


Thursday, May 13, 2010

Cyber Friends -- Poetry 2010

if Friday's good, Monday
must have been horrible…
woke up a friend down.
she deleted herself.
that’s the way it will stay
but I've got work to do
keeping in contact
uniting with old friends
by virtual interaction,
keystrokes and symbols,
making comments, adding
instantaneous photos.
I’ve lost touch speaking
to an actual person,
rarely use the phone,
am even more surprised
when it rings…
I could say that my ears
were tired and needed a rest
or am I an introvert
addicted to a flickering screen…


Release -- Poetry 2010

I’ve given over to words.
Alphabetical arrangements
paint visions conceived
within gray cells… brushing
calligraphic symbols to paper
instead of swirling color to canvas.
Wandering syllables thread phrases,
units of weathered observations
spread outward coating surfaces;
emptying a stream of thought
through conscious release…


Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Artist Reception -- Poetry 2010

One-sided conversation
muttering incoherently
wading through populated debris
keeping their sanity at bay;
that is not an option,
better to keep their reality at bay.
I am disconnected
in this crowded gallery…
conversations surge
swirling in pitch and rhythm.
A wallflower observer
clinging to it’s remaining
upright trellis for security
from life-sucking on-hold music
drowning out all but the loudest
of the function’s participants.
Sometimes if I’m ignored long
enough, I draw inspiration
across time and cultures
from reason or unreasonable
shared snatches of small talk.
I’m invisible, inconsequential,
intentionally waiting… until
I can slip silently away to begin
regurgitating visions to canvas.


Musings -- Poetry 2010

hurrying to catch the words
before I run out of breath
spry fingers tapping keys
ignoring misspellings
ignoring my random-finger-style
incorrigible keyboarding skills
streaming words attach to fingertips
sticking to a cyber page
glowing pulsing in day or night…

I miss the thwap of metal keys
against crisp velum
Smell of the ink ribbon
Thunk of the return carriage
Ratchet sound when hand
cranking the paper into place…
Slower times begat more finger
calisthenics to type a manuscript.
There was more commitment
to thoroughly work out the thoughts
before stamping them to paper…
tedious stacks of handwritten scripts
filled with corrections and notes.

Maybe a blend between the two will suffice…
notebooks rest in my office, bedroom,
backpack and car to surprise those
wandering congealing thoughts flitting
through quiet moments during my day:
waiting for traffic lights or stuck in back ups,
waiting for Dr or dentist appointments,
waking from deep sleep or daydream
with a phrase drifting into minds eye.
I successfully recover many a wild snippet
flying at me from deep dwelling musings.


Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Rational -- Poetry 2010

I'm not insane;
I'm actually kind of rational
with an off-beat rhythm,
a quirky sense of humor
and a desire to see it through
but I've only been awake
for an hour and a half…
it was not exactly what I'd call
a "restful" nights sleep.
The clock was staring me down;
my mind was stuck in third.
I can already see that today
is going to challenge me
in very uncomfortable ways.
Should I pretend I’m capable
of rearranging my mood?
Should I pretend everything
is normal, be amazed and grateful
if things fall into place?
Obviously left to my own
devices, I think too much…
haven gotten to that point,
I need to make my day full of play;
increase that special tempo;
loudly sing along to the radio;
dance the obstacles away…
be flippin' cute and charming;
I never said I was an angel


Monday, May 10, 2010

Interval -- Poetry 2010

Swallowing life
one bite at a time…
Before my taste buds fade
failing to distinguish bland
from delirious deliciousness. .
Season refills refresh
wishes across the years,
across the peppered miles.
Marinated dreams
flavor realistic progress.
Otherwise I’d be asking
for spicy condiments…
dressing for withered passion.


Sunday, May 9, 2010

Mother's Day: Loving a Mom Eternally -- Poetry 2010

Today I am reflecting on all the ways
my mother was extraordinary…
she patiently taught me to sew;
transferred her love of gardening;
guided my fledgling attempts to cook;
showed me how to follow dreams;
prepared me to be the woman I am today.

It’s easy to put Moms on a pedestal
especially after year’s distant the memories…
Even the worst mother is all that a child knows.
I was lucky in that I had one who nurtured
and was open to giving love but my brother
caused a rift due to his sociopath tendencies.

As a youngster I felt left out, on my own;
I was the OK child, luckily no problems for her.
My brother was a full time torrential heartache.
When I look back now as an adult, I wonder
how she made it through until he moved out…
At least then, the troubles he caused moved
out with him, became more his responsibility.

Tears are pricking my eyes, I miss our discussions;
I miss picking strawberries and making jam; I miss
mini shared adventures of sailing, skiing, and hiking.
Not a day goes by without missing her physical presence.
I’ve adjusted from the chaotic family household; I’ve
fine tuned my skill sets, released misconceptions.
I can't think of anybody more deserving to be
celebrated for her struggle… for both having
a vision and carrying the water to make it bloom.


Saturday, May 8, 2010

Mercury Poetry 2010

It ain't going away…
he rallied for a bit; he was eating well.
He’s declining fast this time…
between naps, he wobbles about;
sniffs at his food; throws up if he eats;
he’s shrinking daily.
I can’t give him a hellacious hug
to show him how much I love him;
gentle strokes set him purring, mewing,
shaking – seemingly all at once.

I wish with all my heart
it was a fleeting nightmare,
a dark dream as black as his ebony fur.
I know the feeling;
I know the pain is coming…
resistance is futile.
Attachment to our pets is like none other.
Nothing prepares your
heart for their departure…
a tiny life spirited away;
whose absence in the home
is so obvious that it hurts -
an that's damn near close
to the end of the world -
for a time anyway...
if you didn't have the capacity to love,
you'd not feel the pain of their passing...


"Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul remains unawakened." — Anatole France


Fingernails filled with dirt
from grubbing about pulling weeds;
transplanting strawberries;
turning the mulch into the beds,
touching the warming soil so glorious.
Finally spring has arrived after a dreary
stretch of winter styled storms prevailed.
Blue skies and normal season temperatures
brought all the neighbors out into yards…
like school kids enjoying recess… lingering
over conversations; catching up on news;
soaking up sun rays dressed in shorts,
t-shirts, straw hats, sunglasses, sandals.
Neighbors excited about landscape projects
encouraged show & tell; traipsing from house
to house to admire winter dreams coming true.


Friday, May 7, 2010

Works for Me -- Poetry 2010

May angels lead me in
a necessary expression
from the inside to outside
and outside to inside.
Something to look forward to,
the dance of spirit rising.
Have I thought about
the terms of consequences?
Been humming loudly…
just pretending I don't hear
because life’s music is too loud.
I seem to recall what would
translate to scary looking folks
mocking my non-conformity.
The kind that wear designer
jeans with a big label on their ass
or handbag or outerwear.
I always have to remember
it’s equally as bad looking
to run around in the rags I call
clothing gleaned from friends’
closets or the free box at the Co-Op.
I have to learn from this…
maybe some extra credit
assignments to get more
complete and positive.
I always wore my brothers oversize
shirts in the late fifties that fell
into the sixties but the habit never
disappeared; I like loose clothing.
One part of me cares and the other
doesn’t give a hoot because what
fulfills and comforts… a crucial part
of happiness is making art with friends;
collaboration with like minds flowing,
inducing lots of things on our path;
involving hard work to become whatever
it is we want to be that doesn’t steal
our soul to earn a livelihood…

5/7/2010 EMM

I Wish -- Poetry 2010

An internal shooting star causally fell
from my ceiling to floor to be lost
among the dust balls under my bed.
It’s faint glow reminiscent of lightening bug’s
luminescence from my childhood bug jar …
their soft blinks kept the dark away,
kept me safe through the night.

So far from home
So far from childish dreams
So far from my innocence
Left behind are the lazy days of summer:
jump rope, swimming, exploring the swamps,
hula hoops, roller skates, hop scotch…
Left behind are the cold play days of winter:
building snow forts, sledding, ice skating,
endlessly galloping on snow horses
until my legs were covered in bright red welts
and frozen solid snow pants had to thaw
before being peeled off for removal …

So far removed from imaginary games
of dress-up-pretending where I could
transform into anyone or anything…
Left behind are the characters I played:
cowboy, nurse, adventurer, queen…
Am I really that far from changing my persona
by pretending confidence, strength, courage?
Am I really that far from pretending when dressing
up or down to mimic and fit into my surroundings?

I wish upon this plastic fallen star to find grace
I wish to dance in light and joy
I wish upon this downed star to ignite hope
I wish to open my locked heart
I wish upon this glowing fallen star to be saved
I wish to face my fears
I wish upon this fake fallen star to be real
I wish to be visible…


Thursday, May 6, 2010

Paean to Creativity -- Poetry 2010

muse calls my name
saves me from the dark
wakes me up from lethargy
takes me into the wilderness
of intuition
brings intention to my work
saves my soul from depletion

muse brings me to life
opens my eyes to perplexity,
to subtlety of tone and hue
opens my ears to hear the paean
the harmonic vibration of spirit
opens my emotions to the ether
exposing them to the elements

muse helps me discover myself
unwraps the complexity of life
one layer at a time
translates it into color, form and design
helps my hands dance across
blank paper or canvass
enhances my vision, my expression,
my desire to live…


Wednesday, May 5, 2010

My Journal -- Poetry 2010

Tuck away in your soul this knowledge…
Inspiration can be anger or a sense of outrage.
Inspiration can be from a lifetime of physical
and emotional pain – expressions of anguish.
Inspiration can be the joy of connections,
experiences and what you can take from it all.
Regardless of what winds up happening
in each situation, imagination is my teacher.
At the risk of sounding self-indulgent,
here's one thing about me… I understand life’s
myriad fluctuations bring passions into reality.
A representation - a witnessing of what will
no doubt some day be an extraordinarily little
surreal splash in terms of a visual journal.


Wheezy -- Poetry 2010

This has been the craziest,
most out of rhythm day…
I hate when I wake up feeling
hung-over especially since
I rarely drink alcohol in any form…
Allergies are taking their toll.
Some days I feel like I have
this giant sinus monster by the tail
and I have no idea how to tame it.
In one realm you triumph while
the other realm tears you in half:
eyes itch, nose alternates between
stuffed and running a marathon race,
sounds are muffled, body aches,
my breath wheezes and squeaks like
anxious hiccupping of hummingbird wings.
I’ve heard that we attract into our lives
what we think about and imagine most vividly.
A bizarre thought – but I am in a rut…
a moaning rut railing against crazy sinuses;
if that counts as vividly attracting,
I need to really think about what type
of imagination assignment I can create
to rise above the issues at hand or nose.


Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Self Portrait -- Poetry 2010

Pencil traces wrinkles to paper…
My contour drawing appears
to be a crumpled paper napkin
rather than my facial likeness.
Character lines crisscross
around eyes, nose, mouth…
muscle and skin are beginning
to succumb to relentless gravity.
I don’t want a plastic surgery
mask loaded with artificial color
to run from crone ascending.
The drive for agelessness;
The pursuit of indefinite youth;
The drive to delusional perfection
denying that beauty is fleeting
might just break some women
into teeny tiny pieces trying
to avoid the consequences of aging.
My one-sided conversation is utterly
mirthful diverting my synapses
from self portrait annihilation…


Looking Glass -- Poetry 2010

Peering into the bathroom mirror,
my reflection stares back…
No age defying creams plaster my face;
No anti-wrinkle nonsense fills depressions.
Preferring “au natural”, I skirt make-up isles.
My life is empty of lip gloss, eye liner…
The grey hair turning white blends
in with the dominant female species
of the Pacific Northwest who shirk
advertisements to dye, pluck, shave,
enhance what birth and time developed.
Proudly wearing what nature has wrought;
Lines of events from joy to despair
grace unclogged features… a life’s story
revealed on unadorned facial palettes


Fickle Memory -- Poetry 2010

Dad laughed like a wookie…
oddest sound for a man’s laugh
no giggles, no guffaws
just pure unadulterated wookie…

Sad to say, my Mother’s laugh
has totally faded for me…
I glimpse her smiling in photos;
I have her letters and cards to read
but her voice has vanished…

Fickle memory…
The loss of their touch
the loss of their scent
the loss of their love
can’t be reinstated
from the frozen concentrate
of a photograph…


Reaching Draws in the Juice -- Poetry 2010

I'm not being short with you,
I'm just trying to be a little
longer with myself.
It’s a little scary at times;
I’m getting used
to life without security…
it’s taught me many things.
I am stronger than I thought;
I face challenges head on;
I know what I can live without
and what is precious to me;
I cherish my expanding creativity;
I enjoy my new adventures;
it's all about choices...
rampant consumerism
is not in my nature.
I appreciate things
I used to take for granted:
a fridge full of food,
going to movies or concerts,
an occasional new outfit…
the ability to get to wherever
I need to go at any given time.
It’s a strange enlightenment…
sweet juice of life refreshes
the soul and brings joy to heart.


Sunday, May 2, 2010

Call Back the Sun -- Poetry 2010

Crown a May Queen
to ride naked on horseback through the village.
Jump over the fires to purify; take the animals
between bonfires, a blessing before leading
them to summer pastures.
Time to walk around the property lines,
assess your land for the summer season
and mend fences.

Did you wash your face with the spring dew?
Where are the men to walk around the fires
with rowan branches to keep evil spirits at bay?
Where are the dances, tournaments, parades,
feasts, hawthorn crowned Maypoles and revelry?
Why have we forgotten how to call Bealtuinn back?

Far removed from ancient rites, out of touch
with the land, losing the magic of the season’s cycle;
For most live in comfort without worry to survive
Winter’s damp doom…


Saturday, May 1, 2010

Perfect Imperfection -- Poetry 2010

Monochromatic days
inspirational awareness
of the winter palette…
entirely grey wardrobe
matches sky, water, land
in the Pacific Northwest.
Deconstruction of perception
excavates childhood memories;
reconstitutes the ideas
describing a world invented
of uncontested grey…
black and white may make appearances;
some variation wears night and day
becoming a gift rather than a curse.
Spring has come quite definitely here
although it took plenty of time.
Placing winter’s value scale
into a frozen visual form to store
its perfect imperfection.