Thursday, October 19, 2017

Poetry Thursday

Set in Stone
~Kevin Carey

A rosary that was my mother’s
tucked in the glove compartment of his car
and a copy of Exile on Main Street
with instructions to play track 6
when he hit some lonesome desert highway.
I love him so much my chest hurts,
thinking of him riding off into his own life,
me the weeping shadow left behind (for now).
I know I’ll see him again but it’s ceremony
we’re talking about after all—
one growing up and one growing older
both wild curses.
A train blows its horn
the light rising beyond the harbor,
a dog barks from a car window
and the nostalgia (always dangerous)
hits me like a left hook.
I’m trapped between the memory
and the moment,
the deal we make
if we make it this long,
the markers of a life,
the small worthwhile pieces
that rattle around in my pockets
waiting to be set somewhere in stone.

Wednesday, October 18, 2017

I think I owe you one ... Poetry Thursday

Staring into the Sun
~Jennifer Grotz

What had been treacherous the first time
had become second nature, releasing
the emergency brake, then rolling backwards
in little bursts, braking the whole way down
the long steep drive. Back then
we lived on the top of a hill.
  
I was leaving—the thing we both knew
and didn’t speak of all summer. While you
were at work, I built a brown skyline of boxes,
sealed them with a roll of tape
that made an incessant ripping sound.
We were cheerful at dinner and unusually kind.
At night we slept under a single sheet,
our bodies a furnace if curled together.

It was July. I could feel my pupils contract
when I went outside. Back then I thought only about
how you wouldn’t come with me.
Now I consider what it took for you to help me go.
On that last day. When I stood
in a wrinkled dress with aching arms.
When there was only your mouth at my ear
whispering to get in the truck, then wait
until I was calm enough to turn the key.

Only then did we know. How it felt
to have loved to the end, and then past the very end.

What did you do, left up there in the empty house?
I don’t know why. I
don’t know how we keep living
in a world that never explains why.

Thursday, October 12, 2017

Quote Thursday - inspiration



There is a vitality, a life force, 
a quickening that is translated 
through you into action, 
and there is only one of you in all time, 
this expression is unique, and if you block it, 
it will never exist through any other medium; 
and be lost. 
The world will not have it. 
It is not your business to determine how good it is, 
not how it compares with other expression. 
It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, 
to keep the channel open. 
You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. 
You have to keep open and aware 
directly to the urges that motivate you. 
Keep the channel open. 
No artist is pleased. 
There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. 
There is on a queer, divine dissatisfaction, 
a blessed unrest that keeps us marching 
and makes us more alive than the others. 
~Martha Graham

Thursday, October 05, 2017

Poetry Thursday



Fall Leaves Fall
 ~Emily Brontë
Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me,
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night’s decay
Ushers in a drearier day.

Thursday, September 28, 2017

Poetry Thursday

Bringing joy 
to one heart 
with love 
is better than 
one thousand 
repetitive prayer recitings.
~ Sufi Proverb

Thursday, September 21, 2017

Poetry Thursday

The Endless
~Timothy Donnelly

I saw a yellow butterfly
flying
in my opinion
the wrong way, flying across
the sound
to Connecticut

I saw a cormorant
oily-looking
flying
close to the sea’s surface
precisely
as I floated on it on

my back in
the attitude of the crucifixion
minerals in my body
in
conversation with
the minerals of the sea

about the sun
how can I possibly
add
to what’s already been said
so well
by the ancients

and said with
an austerity I’ll never
know
it is an honor to take
a backseat to the ancients
who knew how

I was a fat white fish
dissolving
under the sold-out stadium sun
like a god
but like a god
I could live through anything.

Thursday, September 14, 2017

Poetry Thursday, it is all about love

Love is cure. 
Love is power. 
Love is the magic 
of changes. 
Love is the mirror 
of divine beauty.
~ Rumi

Thursday, September 07, 2017

Poetry Thursday, meditation



Sketch
~Carl Sandburg

The shadows of the ships
Rock on the crest
In the low blue lustre
Of the tardy and the soft inrolling tide.

A long brown bar at the dip of the sky
Puts an arm of sand in the span of salt.

The lucid and endless wrinkles
Draw in, lapse and withdraw.
Wavelets crumble and white spent bubbles
Wash on the floor of the beach.

             Rocking on the crest
             In the low blue lustre
             Are the shadows of the ships.

Thursday, August 31, 2017

Poetry Thursday, careful reminder



If you care 
about what others 
think of you, 
then you will 
always be their 
slave.
~ L. Tzu

Thursday, August 24, 2017

Poetry Thursday, hummingbirds and souls




Hummingbird
~Robin Becker

I love the whir of the creature come
to visit the pink
flowers in the hanging basket as she does

most August mornings, hours away
from starvation to store
enough energy to survive overnight.

The Aztecs saw the refraction
of incident light on wings
as resurrection of fallen warriors.

In autumn, when daylight decreases
they double their body weight to survive
the flight across the Gulf of Mexico.

On next-to-nothing my mother
flew for 85 years; after her death
she hovered, a bird of bones and air.

Copyright © 2017 Robin Becker. Used with permission of the author.