Posted in Uncategorized, tagged change, flowers, poem, poetry on March 14, 2015| 1 Comment »
For every no I said to you,
I take it back and give you
in its place a bouquet of yesses.
The room is full of bouquets,
blossoms on every surface,
a blush riot of pinks and reds and lavenders,
even here inside of me,
a whole field of wildflowers
open and nod.
Was there really so much refusal?
Oh the unfolding perfume,
it dissolves everything I thought I knew.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged love, mercy, mother, parent, poem, poetry, son on March 14, 2015| 1 Comment »
I pin him, my boy,
on his back on the floor
in the late morning sun
in the quiet kitchen
and hold him there
in the warm orange light
beneath my weight
and threaten to tickle
his belly, his sides,
and I know that he knows
that if he says stop, I
will stop, but oh,
the sweetness of what if,
how it ripens in these seconds
right before the plunder
that doesn’t happen,
our eyes locked and bright,
the morning a boat
we delight in rocking,
knowing that even if it capsizes
we both know how to swim.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged poem, poetry, possibility, rain, tenderness, waiting on March 13, 2015| 1 Comment »
in the night air
scent of rain
that does not fall—
sometimes in the kitchen
scent of tenderness
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged darkness, poem, poetry, villanelle on March 11, 2015| 8 Comments »
Make that case for darkness.
—Cameron Scott
All day the sun is lavish with its gold—
it touches every surface that it finds,
but there is nothing darkness will not hold.
In morning, all the garden flowers unfold
and midday light encourages the vines—
all day the sun is lavish with its gold.
The jeweled snake emerges from the cold,
receives the sun to warm its cambered spine,
but there is nothing darkness will not hold.
Like sun, it holds the blooms, the vines, the bold,
it also holds the undersides, the hinds.
All day the sun is lavish with its gold,
still there’s so much it cannot touch. Its whole
domain is only surface deep. Confined.
But there is nothing darkness cannot hold—
all forms, all feelings, shadows, spaces, souls.
Dark knows no differences, it draws no lines.
All day the sun is lavish with its gold,
but there is nothing darkness will not hold.
*A NOTE ON TODAY’S FORM … AS EXPLAINED BY POETS.ORG
The highly structured villanelle is a nineteen-line poem with two repeating rhymes and two refrains. The form is made up of five tercets followed by a quatrain. The first and third lines of the opening tercet are repeated alternately in the last lines of the succeeding stanzas; then in the final stanza, the refrain serves as the poem’s two concluding lines. Using capitals for the refrains and lowercase letters for the rhymes, the form could be expressed as: A1 b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 A2.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged poem, poetry, starlight on March 10, 2015| 2 Comments »
staring at the stars
inhaling, somehow certain
that brightness saves us
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged daughter, minute, mother, poem, poetry, surrender on March 9, 2015| 2 Comments »
It’s clearly out of my control,
that mixing bowl,
the one I use
for breads, for mousse,
’cause now it’s full, no, not with fudge—
with mud and sludge
out in the yard.
My girl’s been hard
at work: “Look Mom,” she says, “It’s jam!”
Control be damned.
No need to curse.
My bowl is hers.
*This is a special form called a Minute … a slice of life with 60 syllables with an couplet rhyme scheme and stanzas of 4/2/2/2 iambs
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged invitation, love, poem, poetry, silence, triolet on March 9, 2015| 3 Comments »
When there is nothing left to say
please come and find me then.
We’ll stroll in golden fields all day
when there is nothing left to say—
we’ll reunite in other ways,
bouquets of touch and listening hands.
Hush, there is nothing left to say.
Please come and find me, then.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged memory, poem, poetry, short poem on March 7, 2015| 2 Comments »
in a quiet room
the sound of footsteps
years ago
*
long road ahead—
I put a new handle on
this old heart
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged becoming, forgiveness, patience, poem, poetry on March 6, 2015| 3 Comments »
waiting for forgiveness
as if it were a train
and the rails are long gone
*
my heart an apple blossom
afraid it doesn’t know
how to become apple
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged loneliness, pandora, poem, poetry on March 5, 2015| 5 Comments »
The scholars argue if it were a box or a jar.
No matter. She opened it, Pandora.
It was a gift, and she treated
it as such. And what does it matter
how quickly they spread, all the evils and ills
the gods gave to humanity? The point is
they spread. All Pandora did was lift the lid.
I read today that a red blood cell
can make a full circuit of the human body
in less than 20 seconds. Of course I wanted
to give it a name, that theoretic cell.
Like loneliness. I could imagine it rushing redly
through every part of my body, infusing all tissue
with its terrible news. You’re alone,
it says, you’re alone, you’re alone.
In a minute, I’ve heard it enough
to believe it, though other red cells
sing a different tune. Sometimes
in the face of loneliness, all other
songs turn to sand. I’m lonely,
I say to my lonely reflection,
and who will hold my hand?
And anger appears from behind
the vase. And pride shows up
beside the door. There is a box
somewhere inside me. I don’t remember
opening it, but the lid is long since gone.
I, too, was gifted with curiosity.
You were a gift, I say to anger,
you were a gift, I say to pride.
But I am too tired to believe it.
I watch myself as if my life is a movie,
watch the loneliness make its rounds inside.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged generations, grandmother, heritage, poem, poetry on March 3, 2015| 3 Comments »
Last night while I was washing dishes,
I said to my daughter, “How do you like them apples?”
and she said, “What does that mean?”
which means she never knew you.
Funny how when I said it, I heard your voice,
not my own.
I told her, “Oh, that’s something my grandma
used to say. It just means, How do you like that?”
I didn’t cry then, thinking of how you never met,
but I did cry about it later. She wears your name,
just as I do, you know. Rose. There is sorrow and honor
in that one long-stemmed syllable.
I know you would love her.
She likes to dress up, even wears the shiny blue sparkling
clip on earrings I saved from you. Someday
perhaps, when she is a mother,
standing beside the kitchen sink,
her hands warm with soapy water,
she’ll be telling a story and finish it up with
“How do you like them apples?”
And if her child looks at her
in that curious way, she’ll reply,
“It’s just something my mother used to say.”
Love,
Rosemerry
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged poem, poetry, unconditional love on March 2, 2015| 2 Comments »
In a crowd, you are the furniture,
in a boat, you are the sail.
In a song, you are the unsung note.
In a drought, you are the rain.
And you are surely also
the burr inside a sock.
And you are the thirst, the drought itself.
And you the spine, the lack.
In a storm, you are the slicker,
and you also the hail.
And I am the one who practices how
to love however you are.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged appreciation, boat, contentment, poem, poetry, river, under appreciated on March 1, 2015| 4 Comments »
I deserve better
said the lock to the oar.
You never thank me
for holding you close.
I deserve more
said the oar to the boat.
You never praise
how I move you along.
I deserve warmth
said the boat to the river
you are always so cold,
so cold.
And the river said nothing,
nothing at all
and it kissed the earth
as it flowed.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged delight, guilt, poem, poetry on March 1, 2015| 1 Comment »
let’s say they are lovers
guilt and delight
one keeps on laughing
as the other
turns out the lights