December 31, 2011 Sunday Whirl

Sunday Whirl

Words: loss, shovel, friends, expected, stop, plum, letters, drift, sweaters, wind, stitches, yam

The Quilt Made by Hand
The Drunker’s Path
The Flower Garden
The Log Cabin

With careful stitches
The needle pierces the fabric of the day
Disappears
Then reappears
The thread drawn taught
Binding events of one’s life
All that is expected and unexpected

She dreams of her garden
In that garden is the prize
The yam, yellow orange
Sweet to taste
Palm Leaf
Aunt Sukey’s Patch
Corn and Beans

Stop check the stitch
The Bethlehem Star
The Lone Star
The Spider Web

As the quilter stitches
Friends appear
Waltz  across her work
She calls to them
Writes letters in her stitches

The wind knocks at her door
Wants to come in
And it is this wind
For which she creates the quilt
Protecting all who use it

Job’s Trouble
Job’s Tears
Joseph’s Coat

She works with bits of fabric
Bright colors whirl around her
Yellow, plum, robin’s egg blue

She dreams of
Saw-Tooth
The Ship’s Wheel
The Dusty Miller

As she works
She tells stories
Of days gone bye
Loss and sorrow
Spider Web
Eight Hands Around
Ocean Wave

Her mind drifts
To a day
Of blowing snow
Sweaters pulled close
Lost
Days pass
Rescue comes in the form of shovels

Snow on the Mountain
Snow Star
Snow Angel

Note:  In the days before Christmas, my nephew and his family were trapped in their car for almost two days, while traveling to ski in New Mexico.  They experienced a Christmas miracle when they were rescued from their cold tomb under four feet of snow.  We are very grateful!

*Now this is funny…   I missed took the word “yarn”, for “yam”, and found it was so hard to include “yam”… so I shall leave it this way.

December 22, 2011 Aubade

Aubade,  love song about the parting of lovers at dawn

http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/

Aubade

What is it we love

Who can say

When we love everything

As far as the eye can see

Even to the far side of the world

And yet you chose to leave

That morning

In no way different than

Any other morning

And yet

Your leaving

Made that morning

The darkest ever

And so from that moment on

I search for you

I long for you

I remember your kiss

Against my will

I was forced to say

Goodbye that last time

December 18, 2011 Sunday Whirl #34

Sunday Whirl #34

Sunday Whirl #34

States of Purple

 Dreams come in every season of the year

They are but a game

A balance for our lives

In the waking states

We stand firmly rooted on this earth

And yet we fly

Become citizens of new worlds

With purple tangled in new ways

With orange and green

Lucky stars

We can lag behind

Look under every stone

Whatever happens

Is just right

And the white rabbit is no trouble at all

Hopping from dream to dream

To remind us

Nightmares are just part of the game as well

December 14, 2011 We Write Poems #84 Window Faces

Window image

We Write Poems #84 Window Faces

Window Faces

Faces at the window

Shadows on the wall

Not your’s or mine

But all the faces

Passing by

Each unique

Snows covers the ground

It is the winter of the year

The wind blows through

The evergreens on the hillside

Weapons explode

Still it is forever quiet

On the mesa

It is the “still life” of the year

All is waiting

Standing still

Breathless

Soon all will begin again

Some will be here to see this

And some will not

Some will be stars

And some will be shadows

Some will be faces in the window

December 9, 2011 dVerse MOTHER…mother

dVerse — prompt: Writing about feelings.

MOTHER…mother
The words echo
MOTHER… mother
Where are you

One foot before the other
I walk alone
You have trained me
Shown me the path

I fold the soft cloth
And tuck it into
The bottom of the bag
Mother…
Where are you

It rains again today
In the winter of our lives
Tomorrow the sun will shine
I have gathered all
Your words of wisdom

The living of life
Keeps every one busy
No time to really say
Hello, goodbye
Or what is on your
Mind or heart

So now I wonder alone
Your voice silent
MOTHER… mother…
Where are you

December 8, 2011 Magpie #94 Mother

Lunch

Magpie #94
Waiting for Thoughts to Return
When first I saw the image
I thought again of that day
A thought began
Perhaps completion can be
Found today

The day was cold and grey
38 degrees the temperature
The mourners dressed in black
From polished shoes to gold tie tack

The air was filled with mist
As was each eye lash
Whispered words of sorrow
Rock of Ages Cleft for Me

All is ready in the church
The tree was trimmed in gold and silver
Footsteps echo in the hall

I have returned from a long journey
Though not so many days
Not so very far
Yet right to the very edge of
The far side of the world
It seems

I am left with impressions
Snow in fields as far as I can see
Geese in formation
Fly south
Snow dancing on the road
Obscuring the way

Black ice
Black night
Music softly sung
Mouth open beautifully formed
Red hair falls to the shoulders

Warm embrace
Yet all is empty
–Cold–
Echoes in the empty rooms

Time stands still
Waiting for time to begin again
Waiting for the next heart beat
Waiting for the next breath
Waiting for thoughts to return
The waiting stretches time eternal

Note: When I first saw the image I thought of the poem I began, thinking of the funeral for my Mother. Then when I transferred it, I realized that the people were seated differently and eating. And I thought perhaps a funeral is like that in a way. The mourners are comforted and filled with hope in a time of sadness?  And her funeral was at the noon hour of the day.