Category Archives: Poetry

National Poetry Month Day 11

Joy, why have you fled?
Lost in the forest of humanity.
My spirit hides in the leaves,
waiting for the return of the sun
to burn away the shadows.

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Water is Life

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Upon this rock, this land,

I pledge my heart; I pledge my hand.

Water is life; I stand-

 

Water protectors hand in hand,

1st Nations and veterans stand,

Upon this rock, this land.

 

Promises given, promises taken, and

Ripped away by a soldier’s hand;

Water is life; They stand-

 

Eye to eye across the sand,

Defenders, desecrators, take a stand,

Upon his rock, this land.

 

The fight-  the soul of the land.

Which one shall win this hand?

Water is life; You stand-

 

Upon the Earth, our only land.

Promises should be kept as planned.

Upon this rock, this land;

Water is Life; We stand.

 

NOTE: The image was captured during a Dakota Access Pipeline and Sabal Trail Pipeline Protest on the FL capitol lawn.

Lest We Forget

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49 Day Tribute at the FL Capitol building

Lest We Forget

 

Don’t close your eyes, lest you forget,

Don’t turn away from your fellow man again;

One nation indivisible are we; yet,

 

Divided by self-interest, self-doubt, regret,

This lonely wound wastes away, pain.

Don’t close your eyes, lest you forget:

 

This day, hatred collects her debt,

Torn asunder, an iron rain.

Are we one nation indivisible? Yet-

 

Look at the flags, waving in the sunset,

For each life lost, they stand urbane.

Don’t close your eyes, lest you forget:

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The many faces of our brethren, set

Together, candles and tokens side by side lain,

One nation indivisible, are we yet?

 

 

Under the skin: same blood, same sweat;

Free to choose love or hate, hope or pain,

Don’t close your eyes, lest you forget:

One nation indivisible, we are yet.

 

Note:  On Saturday I visited the tribute to the Orlando shooting victims at the FL state capitol here in Tallahassee.  This poem is my reaction to the tragedy.  Sadly, it seems that for every mass casualty event we as a country come together briefly, then are divided again.  I just hope that no one ever forgets that even though everyone has different opinions, we are still one country, one people.

Hurt. Hate. Hope….So much Hope in the Face of the Darkness

 Light

 

Silence. Numbness. Heart ache.. so much heart ache. Headline- Another mass casualty event. This one yet again the, “Most deadliest in History.” You see the images of the bereft, the maimed, the dying.
Bleeding. Shocked. Dead…so many dead. You ask, “Why?” and search the news for possible answers. Fingers pointed-
Guns. Faith. Hate.. so much hate. You, america, cannibalize yourself in pursuit of answers. You let the beast of hate and fear devour your rationality.
Blame, Walls, Sides, so many sides. But still no answers.
Yet-
Prayers, Thoughts, Solidarity… so much solidarity. In our oneness, lost, searching, WE come together to support each other’s grieving. WE offer up OUR very blood to the broken.
Selflessness, Compassion, Empathy, so much empathy. WE place ourselves in the victim’s shoes, reaching past our fear of being the victim.
Steadfastness, Determination, so much determination. Even for the briefest of moments, WE strive to find one mind, find a way to prevent this sorrow.
And Love…so much love. The cure to hate to sustain the living. In giving love, We will overcome this beast tearing the fabric of our country.

Hope.

aSocial Butterfly

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Oh Butterfly,
Trapped in a prison of its own device-
Four walls and a floor made of glass;
comfortably confining, a contradiction.
It stares out at the world through these walls
wishing, pining, hoping for release.
Yet, the release that it desires
comes at time of its own choosing-
It need only spread its wings
and soar towards the heavens;
to the freedom of the skies,
To the saintly touch of another.
But these glass walls magnify the world,
Distorting its view-
Creating monsters that seem bigger and closer
than they really are.
Even though freedom beckons,
Fright holds its wings closed.
Yet, when Fear takes hold
The Lepidoptera need only close its eyes,
feel the breeze from above,
and trust in the power of its lissome wings
to overcome the vast visions
of its self imposed confinement.
So, fair sky Contessa,
Shall you shudder behind glass all your short life,
and watch the fugacious world fade away?
or will you transform your fear into courage
and leave your four walls behind?
trapped no more in a prison of your own device
Oh Butterfly?

In this moment I grieve for thee

sink

I stand as you stood many times before

laboring over dirty dishes in the sink.

As the warm water washes over my hands,

I gaze at the flowers in the window sill

and wonder if you smiled as I smile now,

smelling the sweet Calla lilies brought to you by little hands.

Did you sigh in relief as the dawn bubbles

removed the final crumbs from the pan,

the pan that you used to bake a cake for every year of my life.

Did your mind ever drift away–

as your hands continued their mindless task,

away through the window, down the driveway,

and the lane where we walked to Church together every Sunday.

As I stand in the echo of your memory,

drying the Just Flowers dinner plates

that served your cheese potatoes and other delights for countless family diners,

I wonder that if I complete this same task, touch this same plate

that you touched just a month before,

if I stand on the same tiles worn smooth by your feet,

will it reverse time, just for this moment,

and allow you to be with me once again.

Mariposa

Mariposa

 butterflydreams

I saw the butterfly
on the cold, grey cement.
At first I mistook it for a leaf,
spring green and spotted with decay.
But upon second glace,
I spied two slender feelers
And one beady black eye,
pleading for help.
I had to touch-
a velvety surprise.
Not like a leaf at all-
rubbery, rough or jagged,
But more like a babe’s bum-
powdered fresh and smooth:
fragile.

I peeled the butterfly
from the cold, grey cement.
Its guts, splattered by many hard soles,
had plastered it to the sidewalk.
I wondered how a creature of such beauty
had fallen under foot and heal,
Trod upon, and walked over
regardless of saintly stature:
abused.
Holding it in one hand
I kept if from harm- if only for a while.
With my other hand
I lit the butterfly ablaze-
consumed, consumed—one last
detriment.

I released the butterfly’s ashes
to the cold, grey cement.
No longer plastered to this earth
by guts and wings,
But free to fly
upon the winds of a
dream.