In dreams I see you
A silhouette out of reach
Lapping up the light
Further to my update yesterday, here we go with the poems I’ve published on Medium! This was the first, on June 1, 2020. Thank you for reading!
A Haiku
Ch-ch-ch-changes. . . .
Welp, it’s been a challenging year for me so far, and the way I’ve responded to it is to push all creative endeavors to the background (except piano, that one is my outlet). I’m not writing much, and I’m not photographing much. By not much I mean barely at all. For a while, I’ve felt like I was spread too thin; I’ve been well aware of how unsustainable it is to have two websites (one for writing, and one for photography) plus a presence on Medium. When I polled the hive mind on Facebook about which platform to make the one-stop-shop, the results were split right down the middle between WordPress and Squarespace. Thus mentally waffling and unprepared to make a decision, I decided to keep them both. For now.
That non-decision was still a decision, of course, and still leaves me spread too thin. Yesterday, in a moment of clarity possibly boosted by endorphins — I was running at the time — I made a further decision to quit writing on Medium altogether BUT before my membership expires to start sharing the poems I have published there so far right here with y’all. Copy, paste, repeat sounds manageable. . . . hopefully! It’s been months since I really put back into the community on Medium, and I don’t feel right about that, so this seems like the best move all around.
Here ends my update, and I hope y’all will stick around to read what I’m going to share over the next while because I am proud of the pieces, and they all brought me a little burst of joy when I made them. May your own joy find you, and quickly, wherever you are today. ✌
Woman by Amy Jasek
Grateful to Forever Endeavor for sharing this poem of mine! Thanks y’all!
This body is a conduit
between the earth and sky
she sings to the moon
pulls heaven down
to wear across her shoulders
This body is a shadow
of glory, a powerhouse
of creation, sealed with the Divine
she soars through her cycles
cries out wrenching
new beginnings from the
canyon of existence
She vibrates to the rhythm
of the spheres, in tune
with the perfect pitch of forces
no eye can see
derived, one half of a whole,
but not derivative
This body, the restive palace
for the vast ocean of a soul
that sashays proudly
through a world crowded
with her counterparts
bringing the sweet wind of chaos
in the light of her storytelling eyes
bringing the whisper of delight
that only her curves can hold
This body is the fickle idol
that would bring a multitude
to its knees in the worship
of form’s perfection,
this temple…
View original post 25 more words
Taking Sides
the Joyful Conqueror arm wrestles
the Sorrowful Scared Cynic
who’s used to losing
Wild Dreamer kicks
the Careful Rule Follower
in the shins under the table
so Sh*t-stirrer starts up,
knocking over a chair
into Peacemaker, who spills
her drink onto the stifled
Realist’s crisp white shirt
the Diplomat steps forward
but procrastinates for an instant
and gets shoved out of
the way by the Bitter Gossip
Rebellion lets out a whoop,
sensing all-out war,
but Purity pokes her head
into the door, with Conscience
close behind, and it’s all over
with a grumble from reluctant
Understanding, everybody
comes together and settles
back down
This poem is in response to an exercise from Poemcrazy (of course!) that suggested identifying all the different sides of yourself – something like that. It didn’t suggest having them brawl, but this is what I came up with when I let my mind wander into that idea. I had fun writing it, especially thinking about what ridiculous turmoil it is, not just inside of me, but inside of every beautifully complex and ultimately fascinating human being on the planet. (This includes you!)
Thank you for reading!
Groundhog Day
Up north, trouble is steeping away
a cold brew in the works
an icy blue cloud on the weather map
like a smudge of something borrowed
turning up where it doesn’t belong
The kitchen is a greenhouse
snug and tightly stocked as the fridge
where heat, not freeze, means calamity
But the storm, if it arrives, is hours away
so for now we are just waiting
as anxious in our anticipation
as the crowd who delights
to see grumpy, waddling Phil
rousted from his seasonal sleep
to wink his eyes in the direction of winter
True story: I scratched this out this morning for today, since we are indeed waiting for a winter storm on this Groundhog Day. Repeats are nice, but maybe not of the snowpocalypse we experienced last year down here. . . . Thank you for reading!
Earth
stripped down now,
she adorns herself with winter
an invisible layer exposed by absence
a rough coat of ragged bark
and spindled sticks
with a scarf of last summer’s decay
little birds hop at her shoulders
while squirrels dig at her feet
the hoard of autumn now silent
the revelry of abundance
put away but also strewn about
everything suggests the whiff of ice
everything harbors the promise of growth
and she is asleep but wakeful
paused and still, waiting but wandering,
a bedhead unbrushed, a bright yawn,
a beautiful mess
I am not a fan of being cold, but I love the quiet, bare beauty of winter all the same! Living in a place that has a short, mild one, I welcome the chance to enjoy the season while it lasts. (I will admit I did not feel that way when I lived in New York.)
Thank you for reading!
Shadow
my shadow is tall
she can reach all the glasses
on the top shelf
she fills them to the brim
with strong cocktails
because alcohol doesn’t
bother her stomach,
and neither does any
quantity or combination of food
she drives fast
and says “f*ck it”
more than I do, because
that field of hers really is barren
and she lords over it
a lanky scarecrow in
bright red Jimmy Choos
waving a shotgun at the
crows who come to troll
she speaks her mind
without regret, picks fights, and wins
doesn’t hold on to the past
or worry about the future:
my shadow is the present’s present
a gift blissfully
unencumbered by memory,
family, or responsibility
she does what she does
wild and free, hooting and hollering
as she passes you in a cloud of dust
wheels spinning, middle finger
raised in a salute
with a perfect nail painted
to match the sparkle in her
gorgeous, long-lashed beguiling eyes
This poem is a result of an exercise in Poemcrazy by Susan Wooldridge (you can see a photo of it on my homepage). Basically she suggested invisioning your shadow self, in the Jungian sense, and having a conversation with it, among other things. I didn’t stick to the guidlines offered in the prompt, but I did let myself imagine the opposite of what I see in the mirror and feel inside my own skin. This poem is what emerged!
Thank you for reading!
Skin
just a scratch
and the library bleeds
words and sentences fluttering
page by page gushing forth
a gouge or a stab
will yield a hemorrhage
of information,
heavy stacks, puppets,
even CDs,
the weighty atlas strains
on the reading table
with a longing to break
free of the bricks and iron
that hold it in place,
so many maps
and destinations
burgeoning, just beneath the skin
Hi and HAPPY NEW YEAR! I’ve been absent from here for a while now – basking in holiday time and trying to get myself back together when it comes to my creative life. I didn’t write much over the past couple of months, but I’m working on getting the engines fired back up. My first step was to open up a book that has served me well for inspiration for a while. . . . in fact I feel like I have written some of my favorite pieces over the last year thanks to prodding by this book . . . . .
If you are searching right now, I would highly recommend getting a copy. My local library had it, but I found it to purchase because I like to write in my books (and I don’t think the library would appreciate that much!).
Here’s to a productive, joyful, and creative 2022, y’all! Thanks for reading.
Notice — Pact
Reposting from my daughter’s blog! The writer’s journey continues. . . .
So I’m back, and as you may have noticed I did NOT overhaul the website like I said I would over the holidays. Instead, I decided “hey, wouldn’t it be a great idea if I rewrote the entire thing in a completely different time period and with a majorly tweaked story?” So. Um. Yeah. I’m […]
Notice — Pact
After the Front
After midnight the storm’s breath
came fast and fierce between
the houses, snuffing
trees and patio furniture
like errant candles
it gripped the stars and stripes
like a sail, unmooring
our flagship with a single blow
so it drifted into the
depths of the garden
fences folded like a
house of cards, harkening
to the maelstrom’s beguiling whistle
But you would never know
it now – if it wasn’t for
the debris, chaotic markers
of weather’s late night
party, litter from the
cold front’s powerful parade –
you’d never know the
remnant is this blue sky
and golden sunlight
where the trees toss in
their autumn splendor
like proud ladies just
back from the salon
More on breath, this time from the whopper thunderstorm we had the other night! Thank you for reading!
The Poetry Patio 