April 29, 2012 Sunday Whirl

Sunday Whirl

The Migration of The Cranes
The weather was grey all day
The sea the color of pewter
Your eyes no longer green
We watch overhead
The flocks of sand hill cranes
Return again this year
We could see their beating wings
They did not squander
Their precious energy
They seemed suspended above us

You are my fellow traveler

We make our way into the canyon

There is no lane to follow

It is but an alley into ancient grounds

Another time

Another people

Inhabited these lands

The sand hill cranes

Made their migration

Making no accommodation

As they slowly disappeared

Intractable only on their own terms

Saturday April 21, 2012 Through a Special Lens

Sunday Whirl #52  Anniversity

Through a Special Lens

We can see the pattern of our lives
There may be nothing
Ethereal about each day

And yet….
Just the thought of you
Could cause the spangling to begin
You fold your life into an exquisite origami
Without complaint
Nor regard to aches

The perfection of the boy
Hopes and dreams
Of yesterday
We shimmy into
Our own dragon suits

If you could
You would have taken
The ferment from me
Reworked the pattern
To abstraction

At last
We sang the coda

As with any crossing
There was a silence
In the middle
Of the cacophony

* Note: For one I only knew through the words of his Father. And yet, I loved him dearly. He filled the hearts of all who truly knew him.

Saturday April 14, 2012 Sunday Whirl #52

Sunday Whirl #52

Still Life #54  24″x24″  gouache on oriental paper

The Rich Color of Grey
The habit
At a glance
Starched and stiff
No longer flexible
Appears black
Like the widow’s
Old knapsack

Hymns sung in
The key of grey
Sweet and low
In the early
Morning day
The light is low
Mostly grey

Grey a color
Richer still
Dramatic when
Combined with red
Forceful like a vixen
Playing tricks

A siren swims
In swirling flames
Push the energy
Up the mountain side
Exchange your breath
For a blend of peace

Close the lid
Lock down tight
Day is done
The light is low
Mostly grey

In the snow

Wednesday April 4, 2012 Day Three – Poetic Asides / We Write Poems – NaPoWriMe #04

You Say, “I’m Sorry for Everything”

How am I supposed to know —

What I need

Is for you to state

What happened

That you understand how hurtful

Were your actions

Clean up this dirty room

Your generalities

Fly out the window

Like a bunch of crows

So go your way

I’ve told you how to lighten your burden

I can do no more for you


We Write Poems  NaPoWriMe #04


I raise three fingers

Like fat sausages

And I count

Letting my breath in and out




Three are missing

Hiding as in a child’s game

Have not been created

Nor have we made love

In as long as I remember

And yet today is number four

Best when choices are limited

Too many choices confuse

Like the swan

That chooses a duck for a partner

I choose poetry

Tuesday April 3, 2011

Image from internet

My eyes opened
Like windows to the future
A child alone

An unfamiliar land
Far from home
No sound
Quiet pressed against
My ears
The choir moved their lips
Like a silent movie
The hour early
Before the cock crows

Angels appear in white
Reach for me
Placed my head in my hands
Began to weep
Color fading
Like an old blue dress

Suddenly it is all stone
Hard and cold
Yet bursting into flames
Hot as hades

A prison of terror
Eyes open wide
Soon to be released
A pardon
Sweet dreams my love