I wish I could just bulge up out of no where
Geez you’re so gutsy
You don’t apologize for existing
Or taking up too much space
Wouldn’t that be nice
Because I really do think you’re beautiful
With your crags full of resurrection and neon lichen
With your asymmetrical sides – one smooth – arced –
One harsh and steep
And I really do like you just the way you are
It’s a burden to desire
– yet sweet –
to follow the trail of fantasy
– and yearn –
from my depths just pointing me to a shape in the distance
to follow a trail of choices
– and transcend –
an identity I think I know
to trickle past a forest funk
to find the gold and green surprise
to duck past flowers
and creep towards crickets
and float on my merry way
and marvel – confused, unknowing –
and discover my bubbling identity
a source – a spring – deep within
stitched from ambition and smoke
I found it by following the scent deep
into the throat
of the woods
This is a poem made of “found words.” While other writers read poetry aloud, I wandered among them and wrote words that jumped out at me. From the list of random words, this poem was crafted.
You are yellow like mucous
Insidious like bad ideas loudly stated over and
over until people take them as normal.
You sneak and leak into every pore and cranny.
Oh, pine pollen, you are magical
The way you sneak and creep
Into the tread of my bike tire
Into my bed at night
Between my toes & up my nose
Why won’t you leave me alone?
You cling like a child
You invade like a Hitchcock movie…what was it’s name …”The Birds?”
You make me cry
Make me question my fate
You’re worse than a presidential candidate.
“I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.”
I found a new favorite poem for favorite life moments…
From Blossoms, by Li Young Lee
From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the bend in the road where
we turned toward signs painted Peaches.
From laden boughs, from hands
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside,
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer
dust we eat.
O, take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then
the round jubilance of peach.
There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.
Aren’t we lucky?
The fluff of a muffin
… the tug of a crusty bagel
The squish of the cheese
the pop of a grape
The clink of a fork
on the flat of a plate.
Four friends gather after day break
– two groggy, two ready –
It’s the heart of a family
a ritual meal
Tick tock clip clop
They move through the kitchen
– a clockwork machine –
They work together with rhythm
-from the cook to the clean-
and they don’t have to think
when one’s at the table; another’ at the sink
with food spread wide
the ladies recline
and they laugh at the gaffs of the week that has past.
The day stretches long
The coffee keeps pouring
– sun glows breeze blows –
And the magic of four makes a breakfast that goes and goes
and a friendship that grows
and a laughter that heals a week of woes.
Living far from family, many of us assemble our trust of friends who stand in and become the support and safe circle we need in the absence of family. Mine are the Western Women, who – when we all lived in the same state – gathered every Saturday morning for brunch.
#sisterfriends #chosenfamily #simplepleasures