Tag Archives: poem

nothing so delicious

27 Apr

I inhale. There is nothing
so delicious as a new book.
Dusty or pristine, borrowed or bought,
its weight, its cover, the layer by layer
discovery of what’s inside,
the definitive turn of a page
– or a phrase – I inhale.
Sharply. Slowly. Laughingly. Silently. Loudly.
Eagerly: There is nothing so delicious as a book.

* * * * *
National Poetry Writing Month
30 poems in 30 days

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Practicing Poetry

25 Apr

Not searching for words,
but clearing the channel thru
which words pass.

* * * * *
National Poetry Writing Month
30 poems in 30 days

it blinks

12 Apr

It blinks. It purrs.
It buzzes at inopportune times.
It keeps me awake. It
puts me to sleep. It tracks
minutes and
steps and
likes and
shares and
how to reach my friends.
Without it, I would be lost –
no – really lost. Ask anyone
who knows me. They’ll agree.
Without it, I can’t
find my way.
It connects me
to
people
I love
and
people I
don’t really know.
It interrupts my dinner if I let it.
I don’t.
I read about young people
who dine out, put them all in a pile
in the middle of the table and
whoever picks theirs up first
pays. I like that. I like when
the people in front of me
still take priority. I like when
I consider but refrain
from holding mine
between us
at the park
to snap your picture,
later share a memory
we never took the time to make.
All my best moments
go unrecorded –
except
perhaps
sometimes
in words.

* * * * *

National Poetry Writing Month
30 poems in 30 days

on the way to somewhere new

1 Apr

I’m stuck
on an elevator
somewhere I
have never
been before.
I may not
come here
anymore.

The car
has stopped.
The doors
are stuck
and
I am

late for my day.
Why must I stay?

It’ll open, I promise,
eventually …
says a woman who
works here
everyday,

a woman
who emerges
with a key
when finally
the doors open
and we are all
(are we all?)

f r e e.

 

* * *
National Poetry Writing Month
30 poems in 30 days

* * *

love that ball

2 Oct

Exercise Ball 2014 c

She bounces

on the exercise ball

during dinner

or

 

hovering her pencil

over a worksheet,

taking time

deciding

what to write.

 

She

bounces during

talks of all topics

and tones.

“Let’s talk about

real things, Mami,

while I draw cartoons,”

she suggests,

bouncing,

as if

the dual focus

makes hard things

all

right,

 

makes it

unnecessary

to

 

throw

her pencil across the room,

rip her homework in two,

stomp

towards the kitchen trash,

slam doors,

shut down

all

the

way.

 

No.

 

Bouncing,

just –

bouncing.

Just bouncing

now

somehow

makes it

all

feel

right.

 

only in this trembling

12 Sep

I talk about

color

difference

cultural bridges

showing

openness

inclusion

and

 

if I’m being honest:

 

how

to sound

right

 

You talk about

power

privilege

decision-making

who speaks

with whom

whose voice

is heard

You talk about

tone and action

 

being real

 

Less because

of your words

more because

of our presence

together

 

I see

 

what’s

required

of me:

less

what I say or

how I say it

more

what I do and

words that flow

from

 

being real

inspiring trust

clearly standing

for all I believe

truly seeing

you

 

and

 

in your silence

recognizing too

what you don’t say

 

I try to hold

this vision whole

this brief glimpse

of what must be

 

even when I

fail

even when I

fall back

on what I know

afraid

of the shifting

ground

afraid

to trust

myself

and you

afraid

I will forget

how to fly

or how to

catch myself

in this trembling

 

I try holding

this vision whole

 

I try living

on the new

shifting

ground

 

I try knowing

it is no longer

about

you or

you and I

 

I try,

 

knowing

only in

this

trembling

will I

be whole.

 

I try,

knowing

only in

this

trembling

will I

be whole.

 

 

 

 

How to Begin

26 Jun


DSCF0508How to begin parenting

when your child returns home

How to begin

How to begin writing

when your mind returns

after weeks of

… wandering off

How to begin

after stepping away

even for a day

DSCF0368

How to begin

telling your story

when yours

is intertwined

with the stories of

those you love

and theirs

are purposely

not visible

to anyone but you

How to begin knowing

Begin to parent

where your writing

will take you

is taking you

now

DSCF0410

How to begin responding

to that tug of passion

when you have so

carefully submerged

your

shall we say

pre-mom self

for so long

DSCF0631

How to begin

and when you begin

How to reach back

for what you need

or trust

it will appear

beside you

Begin to trust

along the way.

Boat Flowers Drinks BorderPhotos from our Family Reunion in Cabo San Lucas

This Mountain

30 Apr

Beyond the elevated tracks,

I see the darkest of mountain ranges,

cloudy edges not quite reaching me, not really

until my honey says, “Man! That cloud!”

and I look more closely, marveling over

how near it is to the mountaintop, and

understanding suddenly that I’m

not in California anymore

and here in the Midwest,

in the flat Midwest,

we do not have mountaintops. No,

this cloud before me is full and dark

and stretches across the road, stretches

the length of the horizon like a mountain range

I cannot hike on.

Stunning.

Midwestern Mountain

National Poetry Writing Month
30 poems in 30 days

Sticker Dance

28 Apr

You proudly peel back the sticker

and place it on your chart by the rest.

Your feet giggle-tap. Your eyes dance.

And I, your auntie, fill with sunshine

from my own tingly toes to the tip of my nose

as outside, the thunder snaps.

 National Poetry Writing Month
30 poems in 30 days

Narcolepsy

27 Apr

I can always tell when I’m close to something true.

Every pore of my body begs for sleep.

Begs relentlessly. Forcing me

to keep myself awake, or to sleep,

either way, drawing my attention

deftly away from the truth.

National Poetry Writing Month
30 poems in 30 days

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