Posts for June 25, 2026 (page 9)

What is it that I want to say?
Maybe how my love knows no bounds
how I am filled with so much love
that it hurts
Or how I can’t imagine my live
without you
For you who created the earth &
have my heart, what words can 
I say to thank you?
Perhaps a poem is nothing unless 
it stirs the heart to action
shifts neurons or releases
the clench we have over being
stuck in survival mode
What a gift to be an artist, for
to create is to praise this life.
And remind us why we are fighting to keep it.

                               there are days like this
                               every once in awhile
                               grey overcast hangs    moodily
                               fits me like wet paper

yeah     look and feel my best today
like something the cat dragged in after a three-day bender in a bramble patch

but that’s life
sun will dawn again tomorrow
and     so     will     i

Trees flying by the
open windows, Don Henley
on the radio

Until it gouges money away for those with disabilities
That extra cash keeps them in their homes with loved ones 

Not in a warehouse with strangers who don’t know their quirks
Their love for music, candy apples, kittens on their lap

Slashes to programs that inspire independence, safety
Cost less to our pocketbooks and bring smiles
to those who ask for so  little. 

Stealthy, sly, secretive
Ever present, percolating
Waiting for a crack, like water
Pushing through limestone

The train came to a halt among moss and boughs;
no station, no cross, and no sign there.
They walked downhill and stormed inside the train,
the scent of some strange flowers in their wake.

Was it the altitude that drummed on our ear drums,
or perhaps the rails that rang — we couldn’t tell.
The green surged and shimmered, fresh with raindrops
and all of us woke to its sudden spell.

While some of us got off to have a smoke,
or just to stretch our stiff legs there,
they rushed to where the platform ended,
and in big gulps, drank blue mountain air.

They got off the train at some gray town
and hurried off, dissolved in trivial cares.
We still remember them — sunlit, serene.
We still envy them and stare.

They have to go.
This partying all night.
It’s all so loud.
The stench of their urine
comes up through the floor.
The nerve of them,
coming right up on the deck,
in broad daylight,
robbing the cat’s food.

There has been no response
to the latest notice.
That mask over the eyes.
The way they run when
they hear me yell.  

They’re so cute!        

The sun and the moon,
Two souls in opposition,
vast in their differences, yet bound by something deeper –
a pull that lingers even in silence,
as the stars’ sparkling light draws their wandering eyes.

No matter the distance endured, their pull remains unchanged.
While light bathes the sun,
and the dark consumes the moon,
the contrast between them becomes something almost divine.

Colors of beauty surface the sky as the souls pass.
No matter the distance or the darkness,
no one can deny the beauty that their souls display –
proof in our atmosphere that love conquers all.

No more hesitation, just the simple truth:
bound together through every turn of the earth.

She’s patient. Uses many words
I’m trying to follow.

Look for the setting button on the left.
    I look at the top left–don’t see it. 
See the gray vertical colum on the left.  Go to the bottom. 
Do you see the setting button?
   I think I see it.  Click on it.  Find the edit button.
    I hear Eleni’s voice but fumble.
Copy and paste.  Move text down.  
    This requires plenty of fine motor coordination,
    technical understanding and confidence.
    I lack all this morning.  
Would you just make the changes for me?
    With quiet patience she agrees.  I’m sure she’s relieved.

I’ve abandonned other struggles, 
asked others to step in when I faced failure: 
    sewing a dress
    cutting up a whole chicken
    doing a full gainer from a spring board
    singing a high G.

With a finite numbers of days
to learn– 
I choose writing a poem,
reading a book, 
listening to music
and feel no shame these day.  

draw meticulous chalk outlines around dead mosquitos
leave a bowl of moonlight for the moths
scatter some breadcrumbs across the train tracks
applaud when the compass gets lost

sprinkle rusty thumbtacks on the trampoline
recite radical verse to your old smoke detector
make a yard sale of your botched resolutions
send sonnets to the garbage collector

praise the weeds for their persistence
and the fence for its restraint
if your neighbour turns to weedkiller
pray to the weeds’ patron saint

discuss the tropes and trophies of misdirection
and file the teeth of the leaf rake
glare at your prescription and demand an apology
ram your fist into your friend’s wedding cake

label each of your regrets by season
untangle every shadow you own
feed the old dog some jamón serrano
and teach him to answer the phone

(consult your religion
looking suitably solemn
and sort the above
under their respective columns)