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Words to start

June 27, 2012

 

I’ve heard that nobody reads poetry anymore.  Who has time? Who can understand the stuff that’s written today?  And besides, it doesn’t rhyme.  Yet there are a lot of people writing it, and I’m one of them.

Most of my poems are short.  Most of them are pretty obvious, and tend to be visual.  Alas, most of them don’t rhyme.  I’ve been fortunate to have a number of them published. However sending them out takes a good deal of time. I’d rather spend the time writing and revising. SO

I decided to do something to make more of my poems available to friends & family, (& ?).  A blog! My daughter can read it (and share it with her friends); my husband’s family can read about their big brother (uncle). Friends who have enjoyed my poetry in the past can catch up with what I’m writing now.

I chose this poem as a good one for giving a name to this blog where I intend to post several poems weekly.  This poem was written in 1993.

WORDS

dribble down
the page
in a stream
like
water
falling
Drops
of meaning
precipitate
plunge
past
rock walls
Where
will they
bo
un
ce
off
impenetrable
surfaces
Where will
they sink
deep
and
ferns abound

Here is the first poem I’ve written about the situation I’m going through now.

UNWELCOME INTRUSION

After late rains, the weather is beautiful;
so green in the golden sunlight
of a long Humboldt evening.

Later, you will reflect,
the bad news might have been worse.
Your husband is next to you.
All your children are safe
and accounted for.
Your grandchildren are driving
their mother crazy in Arizona
while she mutters:
Payback’s a bitch!

But when the phone rings,
you know the news is something
you don’t want to hear.
Even though you tried
to believe there was nothing
really wrong all those
weeks they spent looking,
testing for something else,
your heart squeezes tightly;

the sinking sensation
in your stomach says it’s the doctor
who tells you:
“I’m so sorry, there is a tumor.
it’s cancer.
At least you’re not surprised.

 

Whenever I’ve been part of a poetry reading, I always end with one I’ve written for my husband. So, finally, this one’s for Steve.

LIGHT FORMS

Through the day
your light muted
curls within skin
clothing

at night
it begins to leak
until
with the covers

pulled close over us
we slide
skin to skin

my eyes shut
I see the bright
outline
of your being

dreams chase
me into another
dimension

while your light
sinks into my body
holding me
so tenderly

illuminates
my path
home

 

 

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