beckon
Published November 29, 2009 cinquain , nature photo Leave a CommentTags: cinquain, nature photo, poem, poetry
they’ve gone
released to fly
and migrate beyond me
my words on tiny paper wings
find home
haiku 11/21/09
Published November 24, 2009 haiku ClosedTags: haiku, nature, nature photo, poem, poetry
I saw a parent forget today
Published November 21, 2009 cinquain ClosedTags: cinquain, poem, poetry
a child
he is his own
instead, you want to grow
him into what you would want him
to be
goddess
taking a seed
softly folding within
the sacred creative breathes a
new life
sacred cherry trees
the guard
plucks me a bloom
glass sphere
look deep within
what fortunes, loves or pains
all for only one piece of heart
shatter
walking
ocean trinkets
festooned to her skirt hems
she wanders with the tides
waiting for the one lost to her
always
reincarnation
the best I can hope for
worm food
what can be said
Published November 12, 2009 cinquain , nature poem ClosedTags: cinquain, nature, poem, poetry
could you
think well of her
adandoning her child
after all, motherhood is hard
cowbird
taking advantage
light reveals
dusty corners missed
from a haitian mother’s cookbook
Published November 4, 2009 cinquain ClosedTags: cinquain, poem, poetry
mixing
little she has
together with her tears
and dirt from this indifferent world
mud cakes
One day,
I will measure time
by the wanderers
in my garden,
year after year.
The seasons will be known to me
only as,
velvet twilight snowbirds
bright dawn sparrows
swift warmth hummingbirds
and dusky faded goldfinches.
Each arrives and departs
in turn,
telling me all I need to know
to count my days.
When I was a kid,
I could tear through the meadow
never worrying about
stepping in snake holes
or cow patties
I could swing on the barn rope
from hayloft to hayloft then
lie in the sweetness thinking
I was alone
I could hide in the darkest
corners of the chicken coop
even when my brother gave
up the seeking
I could fly down the dirt road
on my banana seat bike
hitting the S-curve below
with precision
Now,
as I cringe
at the black-leggy thing
in the bathtub
a wad of toilet paper in my hand
I miss my fearlessness
I fear
I may become
accustomed
to distant traffic hum
that I may forget
the roll
of the fog
down the sides of the mountains
I fear
I may soon find
more comfort
in lights of the strip malls
that I may block out
the sight
of the stars
riding in their own courses
I fear
I may be more
dazzled by
the rain-soaked wet pavement
that I may lose such
blindness
of the sun
striking on the lake waters
I hope
I will notice
the beauty
of myself falling in
that I will become
a part
of the earth’s
soul






