NaPoWriMo, Day Thirty, the end…

Always a bittersweet moment when the end of NaPoWriMo comes, but stay tuned for more and thanks for coming by this month to check out the poetry and painting!

Waiting for May

The last of April has come once more
a flirtatious whirl of sun and green
uncertain moments, pleasure’s relaxation
after many rounds of shaky romance
the pleasure of sitting on brown earth
does not recede, nor is it softer but
still it’s that april-spring moment, yearly
unlooked for, unplanned, not so recognized
but unconsciously celebrated for
what it is – that moment when the earth turns
the air softens, the world holds out its arms
and again whispers come sit with me
and the body, having marked time’s passing
says, hello, don’t mind if I do. Thank you.

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-nine

There was a lot of this “No one could have known…” floating around yesterday as a meme, but mine took a different path.

No one could have known that a childhood and
all could have landed past middle-age in
a red-hot moment and without any fuss.
No one could have known that after romance
and the pain and the trying to make it work
that love can end and life goes on anyway
No one could have known that regret is real
regret is real and forgiveness so hard
to forgive the past harder, to let go
No one could have known that forgiveness
is sometimes just accepting the facts
and cutting loose the pain, being free
No one could have known that all lessons done
leave plenty of room for more lessons to come.

NaPoWriMo, Day Nineteen

Had this notion on the way to work about the color of the world seeping up toward the sky in spring but on the way home I saw my first of the wonderful white flowering shrubs that to me really speak to Spring’s official arrival.

After four, maybe five months of the sky
throwing down sifts and squalls and bucket loads
of snow and more snow and piling it up
in the normal fashion of New England
And it seems to many deeper and more
snow than it has to be to make a point.
Miraculously it all vanishes
but the woods stand brown and empty awhile.
The earth at last yields color to the world –
the new grasses shining in golden light
treetops pink and impossibly yellow
waiting for leaves to burst summery.
Shrub rows of white petals wind-tossed laughing
spring flecks falling across the joyous sky.

NaPoWriMo Day Seven

Because I think we’re all here.

And here’s what I did before work today:

Life in 2017

The constant, low-level adrenaline
pushed out all my thoughts
made your fingers twitch
interrupted any conversation
made your stomach hurt. made my temples throb.
How to soothe this inner shivering mess
in the words of the wise: make art, breathe deep,
string words together into poetry
write tales to bind up the ragged edges
while you’re making and thinking and writing
and looking around at the world at hand
the world as it really is, beautiful
and whole, filled with light and darkness and birds
all thoughts belong to me and you alone.

NaPoWriMo Day Five

This was a stretch and I know, before the editing is done, there will be even more alternate ending couplets than I have already….

Clean out the closet, the drawer-fuls of things
making room, space, to welcome in the new
Throw out the ratty, the tattered and worn
the last decade’s style, the no-longer-fits.
Perhaps these can be re-purposed, perhaps
they can be donated, gifted, elsewhere
but it’s as likely that they must go out,
out in big black bags, or some old boxes
to a donation bin, or a thrift shop
maybe to the annual rummage sale.
The same is true of words, writing poems,
words and fashions come and go, like seasons
I’ll put on my own clothes, comfortably
and use my own words to write a sonnet

NaPoWriMo Day 1

I wrote these last night onto my phone. Little did I know that the early bird prompt was of prose and haiku.

I fold the words, clouds
Sailing on seas blue, endless,
Purposeful, loving.

this telling of sky:
the love it holds out to clouds
protective of stars.

Scooping up the wind
Directing it now to hills,
Now to the river

So I’m off to a month of poems, today combining haiku and sonnet-form.

I fold the words, clouds creased on seas blue
endlessly sailing, purposeful of love
This telling of the sky, holding out stars
protective, small repeated gesturing
which sweeps the night, trees clattering with wind
in between, the stars refrain the chatter
popping with glint until clouds win again
and the night shivers with rain, falling cold.
Going out to see what is in the world
Stepping off the porch, rain or snow or clear
The world travels in its late night journey
Far off the train sings or an owl calling
Far off the house seems, a few steps further
past the tree to learn what of the night.

Cease to Be

When I have Fears That I May Cease to Be
By John Keats

When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain,
Before high-pilèd books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripened grain;
When I behold, upon the night’s starred face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love—then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.