...stream of consciousness...

January day, the sun lifting the fog; with layered sweaters and scarf around my neck, I parked the car alongside the road

Taking my pen and paper for my blog, I walked the slight hill of matted grass.  Crisp crinkled waves (I want to say wrinkled

like those we used to iron, with frills) gently rocked the sailboats anchored in the small harbor below.  Finding a sun-warmed

picnic table I sat there and opened my sack lunch, a Bubba Burger, juicy, all organic, and coffee for the chill.  Recently, a

man had fallen from his boat at dusk's hour.  Luckily witnesses called 911 and he was rescued, survived - hypothermia

My mind drifted.......those numbers, almost 14 years ago...I recalled reading the story of a woman - the woman whose husband

worked in an office obliterated by the nose of an airplane; no warning, no manner of escape, he chose to die not by fire, 

but by jumping. She watched on the news on TV - was it him falling from one of the twin towers, his wrinkled tie waving 

from his shirt?  Not long after, she became another casualty, committing suicide via carbon monoxide - I tried to imagine her pain,

fleetingly, however, because it was too painful and I pushed it aside.  My finger-less gloved hands grow numb; romaine lettuce from 

the sandwich falls to the ground - not to worry, a bird will come along.  The sun on my face felt so good as I considered

life's various outcomes, billions of stories never written or told, the ordeals that befall us. How hard it is for some to live,

impossible for us to measure on a graph with lines drawn for sun, water, bombs in the air, hearts of gold, whatever matters -

dipping and climbing -and I wondered - just how resilient is the human spirit after all?    

Caught between postings at   http://dversepoets.com/ ____Open Link Night yesterday and Meeting the Bar or Form for All tomorrow, not sure where this will fit in and how I will ever catch up as the weekend was filled with grand-kids activities and company.    We are today, Thursday, writing

prose poetry as suggested by Sam Peralta who is busy writing his novel, Labyrinth Man.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

“What will your verse be?"

The discussion we are having at dversepoets.com this week has to do with the new commercial for ipad using the following quote from the movie Dead Poets' Society  with Robin Williams.   “We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering — these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love — these are what we stay alive for....
Brian is asking us "What will be your verse"?  And Grace is leading the way today at OPEN LINK NIGHT..

Hearts leap, beat, ache on their own

we can't control everything,

no time to take ALL the roads less traveled

Hence we compromise, accommodate, 
adjust, get our bearings

Some say their life is a book or symphony,
the world's a stage with applause;

Maybe you've followed your bliss or star,
or a sophisticated orderly plan
live for a good cause
My verse, or theme if you will, 
leans toward the underdog
It involves lists and re-writes
a little of that, a little of this -

and is served Al La Carte,

 Life boomerangs, when least expected,

collides with one's Achilles heel

familiar voices say "you are not alone"
in spite of it, live with zeal

Mystics say all possibilities exist;

 simply doing and being, 
 benefits the whole of consciousness,

further transmigration of the soul
Do we evolve toward perfection?
Limitations reign and bad things happen

My question is:
Is there nothing but God

through phenomena of the brain?

People say life is a journey, 
an adventure, some say a joke
but it is much more

 for  the Milky Way accelerates 

do not take this ride for granted 
 If we take it one step further 
we are grounded in a transcendent world,
Our verses will then have courage, 
for life's not easy to live
Overcome barriers with non violence,

A la Gandhi, Jesus, MLK 

mending divides without ID (ego)

means dualism disappears,

like fog beyond the sand

where unity is found,

Once I wanted to try everything,

be the best at one 

... like Albert Schweitzer
or the Sweetheart of Sigma Chi;

to dance like Shirley MacLaine in 
The Pajama Game
but  I have wonder in love, 
art and poetry,
I live a worthwhile life -

For I am alive, a part of things,

able for the most part to choose,
     As long as I can breathe salty air, 
smell pungent cardamom,

pick up a pen or brush, read or listen

 I am content because 
of the universal nature of things

 Most important is what is inside and
 the one thing I've wanted most in my life

 was to never, ever lose heart 
What I hope for is grace -
so I can live my verse

a la carte

 For The Sunday Swirl, my first time contributing to this site
with words provided by Brenda...thought I'd give it a try today -

Her conjured spirit lifts as grape scented smoke;
gifts of trinkets sit upon the wood mantle -
neglected dust rises
Humble servant she, saves golden curls 
in her pocket, collects ethereal messages
Wandering into the back garden,
bending to smell the flowers, 
twining their stems gently in her fingers
 till they snap,
she lays them in her maiden's cap;
All things she rests near a robin's new nest,
and as in lifetimes before she sighs -
for it's the first day of spring

Into the woods...

Surrounded by tall evergreens,
their outreached arms welcomed me,
wrapped themselves around me
strong and pristine they
lend me strength day into day,
night into night,

They stand straight and true,
provide constant protection
from harsher elements
Cedars' tops open a portal
where bright constellations pass over
beings mortal

In a clearing in the woods,
they shade me when too warm,
warm me with high sun when chilly
Eagles, owls fly through on silent arms
Upon the boughs snow layers itself as gild,
a secluded sanctuary

My wayward moon now hovers 
in calmness, highlights paths within
trails of needles, twigs, tiny cones,
crevices for small animal homes,
Alive with personalities,
they honor me, these trees

There is a bench to meditate,
where heart and soul commune;
they are my friends who listen as I roam
...but they do not belong to me
I happen to know who has which fate -
me, the forest, and the gnomes


Today Bjorn has us writing about trees or wood, or any aspect thereof; take a look at the other poetry at dversepoets.com 

Mutiny of the bounty?

We are having fun with the subject today of verbs, lots of them, 

or unusual ones at dversepoets.com  - at 3:00 pm              

"Aye!" said the captain as his crew climbed the masts
while exploring the sea walls to make maps, 
navigating dangerous waters; 
Unaware was he they were dishonest thieves
that they would parley him into a corner
Their agenda was to mutiny,
besiege his boat afloat;
they pillaged and plundered as buccaneers do,
swashbuckling with swords whacking -
till he caved when they threatened to cut his throat
They marauded the captain's cabin,
captured and tortured his first mate, 
sabotaging his ship, raiding and ransacking;
drinking grog and brawling from quarters below 
all the way up to the crows nest
They kidnapped the boatswain, 
ordering him to walk the plank,
No danger of beheading while roaming the high seas,
just "Aarg... shiver their timbers"..
and be done with 'thees' !
no need to 
swab the deck with their blood.
They confiscated what they could 
before it  capsized, 
Crushing barrels of cargo, vandalizing 
everything,
until the mighty galleon heaved, 
gunning itself down to drown in the deep
Their plan encompassed robbing the maps
with "X " marks the spot inscribed in black ink.
They pirated the treasure chests of dabloons, 
lowered their bounty, abandoned ship,
but not before boasting "Blow me man down!"
Overboard they went, lowering their skiffs;
they sailed the tide to shore with their fortunes - 
and parroting them as they ruthlessly cursed him
was the bird perched high above, 
squawking "Yo Ho Ho and a bottle of rum!"

Squirrel up a tree...

Today at dversepoets.com    we are writing about 
what's out our window ...my contribution:                                   

He scouted the area to see how safe                                           
to climb the tree to the birdfeeder;
literally flying through branches
he leaped from cedar to cedar
He hung from a bough, stretching himself
grabbed the suet cage by his feet
He twitched and turned, trying to steal                                                     
the food put out for birds to eat                                          

And Aha! I had secured the little 
door's latch with wire,
so he could not open it 
or knock it on the ground.
Nuthatches and chickadees arrive,
go to the other bird feeders,
mixed nuts and seeds,
 spilling to the ground -
a woodpecker muscles his way in.

To be sure in the spring there will be

more birds outside my kitchen window;

..hummingbirds, swallows, robins, jays

When a girl scout in 3rd grade,

we drew birds, learned their calls 

and names - and sketched them

I think of birds in movies,

of Alfred Hitchcock fame,

The Thornbird that sings beautifully 
and then dies

Doves coo in a kings court

and our state's bird is 
the Goldfinch

  I see that his tail gets caught 

on a protruding branch's joint

Try as he may to loosen himself,

he's fearful as I approach and can't

He tries to run harder, faster,

but to no avail - he's stuck

spinning his wheels, his tail

wrapped around it,

adhering like velcro does.

So I pick up a walking stick

from beside the door,

climb a bit to reach -

and by extending the rod,

doing my best to keep my balance

I fail to unstick his tail with the first attempt.

Panicking was he as I maneuvered myself

to the edge of the porch

Finally I manage to get the angle right, 

knock his tail free,

 hopefully not hurting him;

he runs into the forest squeaking

leaving a large tuft of fur attached 

to the bough;   Ah, something soft 

for  bird nest building in the spring.

                             

There was a sinner man..

The first prompt of the new year 
at dversepoets.com is to choose 
one of the topics for writing from 
last year out of a list.  I chose "listing",
a form of writing that is like a 
catalog or list of thing—an inventory of people, 
places, things, ideas, but it is no simple shopping list or to-do list; must tell a story or make a whole new point.  Some can be beautiful, but I had written this in fun awhile ago and it fits the prompt.


There was a sinner man who had an evil wife -
her favorite tool of choice was a butcher knife;
They had a deadbeat son, who broke all the laws,
their daughter was a troublemaker, wrongdoers all

Good for nothing, ne'er d well ex-convicts,
criminals up to nothing but dirty tricks;
Fugitives on the run, wanted by city hall
What would become of their victims after all?

Hooligans, hustlers, let me find all the words,
they lived as desperadoes when not  jailbirds;
Worse than scalawags, derelicts, delinquents 

recalcitrants, or undeserving miscreants 

Scum of the earth, crooked way beyond the pale, 

no strangers when it came to raising cash bail; 

wanted for multiple transgressions by police -
evildoers, lowlife punks, rascals, bullies 

They made Bonnie & Clyde look like benign thieves, 

shocked no one when they kidnapped their own niece, 

or when they swindled the mayor with high blackmail, 

gunned down anyone who was hot on their trail 

They weren't just black sheep but slippery eels - 

they couldn't run except backwards on their heels 

their ugly mugshots made the news for years 

Finally the judge sentenced them to four lifetimes - Cheers!

• 
  

Mother told me...

After a two week break
the poets are arriving 
at the pub door, eager 
to mingle with good cheer 
and hopes for the New Year...
stop in and read their poetry over at dversepoets.com

         ~
Mother said it's possible to love
more than one man in a lifetime -
the romantic in me disagreed,
but I loved them distinctly;
Each relationship had it's own flavor,
a song all it's own
Youthful senses, 
previously unknown, 
rushed love in with new kisses
(he's the one, it will last forever)
I won't get into the Prince Charming
thing, not here - but it helps
to know one's learning curve,
as in driving lessons,
or a growth chart -
from quick embraces in a church,
withered prom corsages,
wearing his class ring, and
notes passed in class
to beehive hair - too bad

Bouquet of tender mint blossoms,
a solo saxophone;
a falling in, like a tree into soft earth,
the miracle of kindling lit,
Burning slowly,
greenish blue to white,
reaching altitudes untraveled
where words take flight
The taste of honey recalls 
the hay in my hair,
horse nostrils at a county fair,
Tragedy spent some time, 
adding lines to my face 
as did laughter and mirth
Reaching for the moon,
we caught star after star;
for drama, and operatic measure,
there were lots of tests,
of time, maturity and trust -
A dozen red roses on my 50th
I won't say how many good men,
but less than 7 and more than 3,
then there is fate

Each interlude had it's allure,
a chain of hearts beating,
poised for romance forever
promises, comfortableness;
Bundles of feelings at stake,
and nowhere to go -                                      
early longing like 
the chartreuse weeping willow tree,
then the explosions of many suns
and ecstasy, not unlike
the gap between
dreams and reality
Long term is the meaning implied,
not sewing seams with uneven
ragged edges, but like
a wool sweater knit over time -

Nurturing skills learned 
make more room in the heart
for love to grow, exponentially -
Would it be to have had thousands 
of hand sewn days and nights together,
one soulmate,
creating a home for longevity
becoming a finished piece of work,
adorned with it's sublime shining 
threads of love's cooled embers,
fraught with a grown woman's passion
..it was not meant for me