Posts for June 25, 2022 (page 2)

Category
Poem

Overruled

Blue

Red

Black

White

Somewhere the lines

Divide and cross

The guns we carry

Have more rights

Than we women do

Somehow you still

Don’t seem to see the problem?

But yell you’re  pro life?

Don’t you realize

You scream for your own death?!

You’re blinded by religion

You need something to hold to?

Hold on to your daughters

Hold on to your mothers

Mothers grab your sisters

They say they’re coming for us.

Where will your God be

When they come?

It’s happening everywhere

In some countries

It’s never been

You think it can’t

Happen here

You’re wrong.

No one is united here

They’re coming.

And have been

For ages.

Look around

They’re already

Here.

 


Category
Poem

And what’s your favorite class in school?

I like math. And science.
Her sweet smile framed
by gorgeous wavy cascades.  

In my head I encourage her
to pursue math and science.
Maybe become a doctor.   

I slam my mouth shut.
Bite my tongue.
How dare I?  

Born in a
Guatemalan village.
Emigree.

How will her family
pay for college?
No DACA. No support.  

I smile at her hard
with my eyes,
my mouth hidden
behind a mask.  

I say nothing.  


Category
Poem

all that’s left

sitting in the dark
all’s quiet
except the occasional boom
     fireworks season
today is a turning point
a beginning for me
and an end, as each beginning is
deciding to yield, I embrace this opportunity 
cling to it while, though exhausted, I sing
     if only in my heart
I have journeyed
given myself and pulled away
all that’s left is to live 


Category
Poem

Consider the color “Red”, for example

Thinking about painting
and unravelling
the mysteries of color
shaking paint off brushes
every which way possible
slashing, dripping, dabbing,
smearing, blotching, dotting…
or just riding a single brush line
across the surface
making marks delineating,
merging, teasing, describing…
There is so much hinting at what color is all about.
Sometimes, I think I almost know things
but the mysteries of color remain illusive

Color knowledge of the craft comes from the craft,
The science of color belongs to mental space,
But the deep knowing of color belongs to the intuitive eye
Painters keep their gatherings historically within—
at their internalized Color Spectrum-Library of Congress
accessible every time they paint

There exists long threads
of every single contact
with every single color
you have met
in your whole life
That you hold within you,
which is activated simply
because you choose a certain color
to put on your palette
One of many aesthetic thrills

Consider the color “Red”, for example
Like every other color, it emblazoned itself on your retina
and senses…you do not forget these things.
You know red from every experience you’ve ever had with it.

Red made an impression that time you walked into a totally color-altered room and experienced that space with every sense of your being—the red lighting turning everything magical— the velvet sofa felt like touching vermillion, the curtains made billowy crimson abstractions stirred up into the air, the rose madder floors sunk underfoot and walls glowed a bright red neon..this room emancipated Red!

And then there was that time you put red juice in a blue glass and held it up to the light, and became amazed to see that the red read red through the blue glass—how powerful it was. We know red is a warm color, but it was so cool going down— that tart cranberry tickling my throat, or was that the Red in the juice throwing its hooks into me saying: remember me—you will never forget my power—you will thirst for me again!

And then the many red leaves of Fall, always so brilliant against the cloudless blue skies—igniting its host trees, making each one present as places of worship. This version of red—full of miracles, remains spectacular forever.

But then there is the bright red blood bleeding from your bare feet, that time you ran home through a field of broken glass on the path behind your house, each shard, a dagger, draining patterns of red prints on the walkway to the back door.

And there is even the Catsup Red bringing some life to an otherwise dull beige meal showing how red can save the day.

Morning Glories assault me with their love —with their sea of new blooms each day once their cycle of daily gifts begin. I am amazed that their intensity never fades.

So many times,
places and things are encountered
through color after color after color
nature talks endlessly
about the sky,
underwater,
this whole earth
a boundless resource
a never ending intrigue
of mysteries.

These reveries persist
and keep coming
There is perhaps no unravelling to be done.
Possibly,
no, probably it is best
to just accept
the embrace of color
as the closet thing
we have to visiting
Utopia


Category
Poem

The Midst of Crisis

Balmy dusk.
Lightning bugs are out
after a pop-up storm,

but no whippoorwills yet this year.
I’m exhausted, unable to sleep,
kept awake with images

from the news. Headlines,
cries of agony, predictions.
I’m holding my breath again

wondering if I’ll know when
we’re living the last tender moments.


Category
Poem

dusk—the fireflies whispered to me

the darkness
slowly cascaded
around me

a firefly landed
in my hand,
&, ripped from the naivety
of my childhood,
i kept an open palm

before i could kill it
(i wouldn’t, would i?)
it flew away

somehow,
i was still breathing,
despite the morning
seeming distant
& unimaginable


Category
Poem

Cling to the Truth

My thoughts race through my head
as whispers when I am overwhelmed
Whispers that say “You can’t do this” or “Don’t even try, you will fail”
The optimist in me counteracts with “I CAN do this” and “I WILL do this”
Then, the truth I have hidden in my heart
answers with “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.”
The truth. I cling to the truth


Category
Poem

Consolation

apathylove
busyboredom
 
I used to detest
change’s promise
 
but sometimes now
it is the best consolation
 

Category
Poem

Motorcyclists

Sertraline-green eyes
Stare vacant at the state line
The wreck, crossover

To the afterlife
Where night motorcyclists
Ride storm-choked highways

Crosses on shoulders
Adrenaline chasers make
Deals with the devil


Category
Poem

June 25, 2022

It took 
A long time
To get me 
Here

In this place
On this spot

With this cold beer
And nothing but
The sounds 
Of birds
And 
Traffic

The cool 
Evening breeze 
Kisses 
My sun burnt shoulders

I seek nothing
I have everything

And
Tonight 

Just

Feels like
Poetry