Bread

from Magpie Tales

grateful for the bread
eases the gnawing
in my gut

hungry for food
hungry for assurances
hungry for salvation

don't care if this is
worse  or better than '29
it is bad enough for me

Gratitude

flickering memories
of not having
of being in pain

old photos
of younger years
of absent family

cherished ornaments
of kindergarten dough
of ancient travels

stained recipes
for gingerbread
for wassail

ringing bells
to remember
to be grateful

Occupy

occupy the minds of the politicians
occupy the imaginations of the ceo's
occupy the fingers of the wheeler dealers
occupy the speech of the brokers
occupy the hearts of the bankers
occupy the heads of the deal makers
occupy the souls of the oppressors
occupy the stomachs of the rich
occupy the eyes of the mean
occupy the character of the police

and then occupy their spirit and make the change happen

Light a Lantern

light a lantern
for the lost
for the wanderer
for the seeker
for the submerged

light a lantern
for your soul
for your kin
for your spirit
for your muse

light a lantern
for remembrance
for strength
for courage
for hope

light a lantern

to see...

Roots

Deep roots are patient, they wait for our ripening; they lay hidden and strong unaffected by our daliance and lack of interest. As we float amongst the leaves -all playfully bright and fluttering songs to us, the deep roots sing with a nurturing love knowingly their time will come.

We dance, play and revel in the upper realms living our story and playing out our destiny and the deep roots all knowing and grounded in their quiet patch of earth simply sigh knowing that after the spring of green has passed and the glory of autumn has ended, we will come back to them as all things do to the dark and deep and forever roots.

Door

halloween is in the air
rusty door
that goes nowhere
sometimes life
sets out to prove
that it is scary
just to move

Seeking

smoke
smoke and mirrors
distortion
elusive

reaching out into the haze
looking for truth and soul
only touching granite
hard and unyielding

sky
navy and vast
clarity
accessible

sending wishes to the stars
looking for answers
open to answers
soft and receptive

The Attic

If I had an attic I would put a mattress on one side with a large flashlight and a blanket for a hiding place. I would collect old stamp books from everyone's childhoods and pile them up on an old chest of drawers. I would hang old evening gowns from the rafters and dangle long scarves from them. I would tuck lavender into envelopes and hide them in the attic's darkest recesses. I would put a whole set of vintage Nancy Drew on an old table and arrange various decks of tarot cards nearby. I would pile sheet music from the 40's and 50's on a piano bench. I would put a teddy bear in an old child's rocker. I would fill a trunk with  maps of every kind.and lastly I would lock a stack of love letters in a wooden box and hide the key.

Serious

selling bikes with boobs
the french did it with class
the ad men not so much
still making money
from some woman's beauty

Verona 2011

tangled in white linen sheets
with sunlight drawing slats
on the golden walls
what dreams does she conjure
what places does she visit
this young woman
adventurous and valiant

no modern day Juliet

Like a circle in a spiral....

from Magpie Tales

like a whirling dervish
life spins
like a fast running stream
time passes
like a carousel
joy circles
like a blink of an eye
moments are lost
like lightning
love strikes
like denim
images fade
like chalk on a sidewalk
life passes
only we can choose to remember

Briny Metaphors

photo from Magpie Tales

spun out of the sea
it reminds us
of summer
of treasures
of youth
of cycles
of time


hard and soft
delicate and sturdy
endless briny metaphors

Optical Hardware

photo from Magpie Tales

sitting all alone staring up at the cosmos

without a point of view

hardly encourages deep thoughts

without my socket I am lost

left to stare and stare

optically competent  

yet needing insight and direction 

without my twin and the muse

I am only hardware

Anything but This

from Magpie Tales

she longed to flee
from the silly lute player
the pompous men
her limitations
she dreamed of muddy legs
grand vistas and the sea


running wild and naked
in dark endless forests
filled with beasts


anything but this

Back from Italy

returned from Italy, no poems today
my heart is full of love and beauty
reflections on ancient surfaces
hustle and bustle, rows of Vespas
gelato piled high, leather shops
ancient walls, old vineyards
narrow alleys, many rooms with a view
beach promenade,
terrace views forever
Michelangelo, Juliet, Galileo,
giants of imagination and love
strung together through the ages

Oh those lips

Magpie Tales Prompt

a whole lot of whoop de do

over a little bit of zippity zip

or zippity lip?

Dancing Particles

it is easy to find fault in other humans, harder to find their core;
easy to criticize and be clever, harder to have compassion;
easy to be smart and hip, harder to be real;
easy to dismiss the object of our fear, harder to understand differences;
mockery is easier, love is harder.
but love trumps hate every time.


we are all just dancing particles.

On the Road Again 2011

road trip down the coast
worries blown away
long before Gold Beach
hopes and dreams
launched in Marin County
youth restored in Pismo Beach
dreamy nirvana in Palm Springs
back to the earth in Tonopah
ancient merchant in Tucson


Willie Nelson eat your heart out..

Berkana

Real runestones were carved primarily as commemorative markers, either of living people, or loved or respected persons who had died. They were sometimes used as crossroad markers, or to impart messages. A great many of them were destroyed by Christian priests and monks at the time of conversion of each country. The priests viewed them as reminders of the pagan past. More have been broken up for construction material by those who did not recognize their historical significance. The present day hazard is defacement by vandals. Carved runestones have been found primarily in Sweden, Denmark, Norway and Iceland, with a few others scattered elsewhere. Each year one or two more rune stones are discovered or rediscovered in Sweden.

berkana
the birch
a big B
calls to me
whispers spring 
moon light
rebirth
buds green
woman 

The Piano

Magpie Tales

front foyer
always closed off
colored leaded window
piano stacked with books, canning jars
newspapers, seed catalogs
and sheet music
a five year old sitting there
propped on stool all straight and professional
hammering on those keys
studying the marks on the yellowed page


dreams are made of this

Connecticut River Valley

resiny scent of tobacco
onions drying in piles on silty soil
sweat mixed with spilled lemonade
drunk from a jug
flowing with the Connecticut
voices, english, polish, ukrainian
scratches from the long wooden slats
up and down the rows
up and down the rows
everybody worked
men, women, old , young
even
relatives from New York City

Ms Marple

squishing clay and listening to Ms Marple

wishing I were more malleable
is it necessary to always be prepared
could one simply be squishy
being a girl scout is such a drag
wondering about spontaneity
making little porcelain bells
Poirot is next