full moon
in the rear view mirror—
I curse my hands
as they drive
the other direction
Archive for May, 2018
One Confusion
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged moon, poem, poetry on May 28, 2018| Leave a Comment »
In the Garden
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged beauty, garden, granddaughter, grandmother, merry stoll, planting, poem, poetry on May 26, 2018| 6 Comments »
for Merry Stoll
After I learn that she died,
I go to the garden, grateful
that there are petunias,
cosmos and snapdragons
to plant. Salvia, pansies, and
verbena that will drape its purple
kindness down the sides
of the planter. I don’t
put on my gloves. I let my hands
enter the soil and feel
how good the earth is.
This is how I best remember her,
with a trowel or a scissors in her hand,
ready to transplant, to trim,
to harvest the blooms
into a bouquet for the altar
or table. Flowers hung
in her garage to dry. Flowers
in her bathrooms, her dining room,
her kitchen. It came easy to her,
which stem to place where.
Which color, which ribbon,
which grass, which vase.
She left beauty all over the place.
Once she sat with me
on her green and white couch,
and let me read her poems,
a whole book of them.
We sat there for hours,
and she listened and laughed
at Shel Silverstein’s antics,
and as I read, I felt like a flower,
like something just at the edge
of bloom. Her attention
made me beautiful.
Today, the garden is just starting
to find itself after winter. I cannot help
but weep into the holes I have dug.
It is tender, this moment, and fragile
this life. I feel like making wild pledges—
to honor her legacy—to find
and share beauty everywhere I go.
I feel determined to keep my word.
One Perspective
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged light, perspective, poem, poetry on May 26, 2018| Leave a Comment »
carrying a candle outside
into the twilight, the whole world
revolves around the tiny flame
How Things Change
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged building, destruction, parenting, poem, poetry, tower on May 24, 2018| 2 Comments »
First, she built a tower of blocks.
It fell down. She cried. She built
it again. It fell. You could have told
her then, Honey, it all falls down,
but no, you told her, Rebuild it.
She did. And it fell. Again.
It is hard to not want to rebuild things.
Towers. Marriages. Egos.
Careers. It is hard to stand
in the crumble of life
and not ache for repair.
Until it’s not hard anymore. Until
you feel the freedom
that comes from the mess.
She’ll go off to college,
get a mortgage, a job,
building it all like you told her.
Meanwhile, you’ll get out
your wrecking ball,
the sun hitting you
where that tower
used to stand.
Thirteen
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged boundaries, mother, parenting, poem, poetry, son, teenager on May 23, 2018| 4 Comments »
There are many kinds of love, and I have lived some of them.
—Katherine Gallagher, Distances
You’re too restrictive,
he shouts at you,
and the fist of his voice
connects with your most tender parts.
There was a time
when loving him looked
like holding him, letting
the small question of his body
soften into yours. There
was a time when loving him
looked like kissing a knee
or playing Monopoly
a third time or singing
to him in the dark. How
easy it was to love then.
Now, love is a war
with no winners,
ammo without a gun,
a wall you wish you could
tear down. That’s right,
you say. I’m restrictive.
That’s my job.
He stomps away
and slams his bedroom door,
leaving you standing
alone with your horrible,
fierce love.
See How Perfectly It Can Be Done
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged garden, patience, poem, poetry, waiting on May 23, 2018| 3 Comments »
I know that things just don’t grow if you don’t bless them with your patience.
—First Aid Kit, Emmylou
There are gardens in me
where I have tried
to make things bloom
out of season—
how difficult it can be
to let a seed do
what a seed does
all on its own,
especially in a time
of drought when I fear
the seed may not grow at all
if I don’t help it
grow more quickly.
And so I let soil
be my teacher.
How perfectly
it waits, letting
the world feed it.
How easily it
partners with rain,
with sun, with time.
One Eventually
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged dark, light, poem, poetry, self love on May 21, 2018| 2 Comments »
arriving in the dark
at my own doorstep
learning at last
to leave the light on
for myself
Moon River and Me
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged grandmother, moon river, poem, poetry, song on May 20, 2018| 8 Comments »
for Merry
Though she could barely carry
a conversation, she could still sing,
so I would sit by her nursing home bed
and sing Moon River and her eyes
might not even open, but
her lips would start to move,
wider than a mile, I’m crossing
you in style someday.
Her voice was wobbly, perhaps,
but her notes were true,
and she’d smile as she sang.
Old dream maker, you
heart breaker, wherever you’re goin’,
I’m goin’ your way.
She’d been nowhere but
this bed for years,
but I could see behind her eyes
she was aiming toward some
imperceptible future,
a drifter, off to see the world
beyond this one.
And I would hold her hand
and she would squeeze it.
If she could hear the tears
in my voice, she didn’t say so.
We’d sung together since I was a girl,
show tunes in her kitchen
and hymns from the choir loft in the church.
Her soprano, a beacon of my childhood.
Now, in a room far from her,
I light a candle as she drifts away,
and sing as if she could hear me,
there’s such a lot of world to see,
my voice cloudy, as if any moment
it might start to rain and that
rainbow’s end might appear,
and for a moment, we could
look at it together before
she goes around the bend, alone.
One on the Ride Home
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged letting go, performance, poem, poetry, theater on May 20, 2018| 1 Comment »
One More Layer
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged letting go, poem, poetry on May 19, 2018| Leave a Comment »
after shedding all these skins
still saying to the cherry blossom
teach me how to let go
One Afternoon with Ulli & Jen
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged friendship, poem, poetry, singing on May 17, 2018| Leave a Comment »
singing beside the falls
the sound of the water
drowns out our voices
but that isn’t any reason
to stop singing
Some Days Are Difficult For Me
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged loss, poem, poetry, tears on May 16, 2018| 3 Comments »
Longing is the hardest thing to give up.
—Jim Tipton, “What is This Place I Have Come To?”
Some days can’t end soon enough,
when the heart, so full of love,
breaks and breaks again—
for beauty, for loss.
And the eyes can’t cry
another damn tear
but they do anyway,
I would rather not
cry anymore, but God,
thank you for letting me
be one of the ones
who can’t help but weep,
whose house is built
too close to the water.
What a gift to feel this horrible ache
like a lantern, golden
and soft, guiding us
deeper and deeper
into our humanness,
leading us closer
to each other, even
though we have never felt
farther away,
and though the stars
are out and at last,
thank god, it is night,
we have never
been more awake.
Workshops & Readings & Revealings, Oh My!
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Corinne Platt, literary burlesque, poem, poetry, poetry reading, poetry workshop, Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer on May 16, 2018| Leave a Comment »
Poetry friends, I hope you will be able to join me for some of these upcoming events:
May 18-20, Telluride Literary Arts Festival, featuring free readings, free open mic, free workshops, a poetry hike! For more schedule and featured guests, visit http://talkinggourds.weebly.com/literary-arts-festival.html
May 19, Literary Burlesque!! This year’s them: Uncorseted: It’s not what it seams . Eight whip-smart women strip away what it means to fight for LIBERTY in all their cheeky glory. It’s the 100th anniversary of Armistice. We celebrate the women who unbound themselves using their voices and bodies. Sexy, serious, playful, hot. I’ll be playing Anna Akhmatova, the Russian poet. 7 p.m. at the Black Box Theater in Telluride. Tickets are $20, available only at Between the Covers, 728-4504. Always sells out, get your ticket now!
May 21, Naked for Tea—I will be performing and sharing poems from my newest poetry collection in Ridgway at 6:30 at Cimarron Books and Coffee Roasters. Featuring Kyra Kopestonsky accompanying me on cello. Free.
May 23, Lost in Motherland, a free writing workshop for moms (step, biological, grand, etc) exploring how motherhood has undone us and made us who we are. At Wilkinson Public Library, 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. in the Telluride Room. To register, please call 970-728-4519 and ask for the youth services desk.
June 18, Always Becoming: A Dream and Poetry Workshop in Placerville, CO
What if you could rest in the knowing that your own consciousness had the answers that you were looking for? Each night, through the power and intensity of our dreams, we are offered pieces of ourselves that we might never come to know. Dreams speak the language of the soul, a rich and deep patois, from the deepest parts of our being. A dream may speak to a personal mythos or idea we hold about who we are, how we are living or what our future might hold; or it may offer an insight into a small detail of everyday life—what we do in relationships, how we pull back or illuminate the places we are stuck. Talking about dreams – as opposed to interpreting them – opens us up to a deep discovery of our own authenticity.
In this six-hour workshop, 10 a.m. – 4 p.m., we will explore the landscape of dreams and use the symbols, images, metaphors and feelings to leap into language, writing poems that walk the line between certainty and uncertainty, dream and reality, the irrational and the true. Through dreams and poetry, we will navigate the tides of becoming—the continual, miraculous unfolding of life. No previous experience with dream work or poetry necessary. Led by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer and Corinne Platt. $100.
To register, contact Rosemerry, 970-729-1838 or wordwoman@rosemerry.com
June 26, Art Bar(d): The Art of Showing Up, Ridgway, 6-8 p.m. Sometimes, writing a poem is good medicine. The process can help us keep our heads and hearts where our bodies are, inviting us to return to the present moment again and again. No matter how busy you are—or not—this art of paying attention to the here and now has a wonderful way of inspiring us to live better, and to make our world better, while at the same time allowing us to see ourselves and the world as “good enough.” This is a workshop brought to you by curiosity and paradox. And wine. $25 gets you instruction and some liquid inspiration. We’ll read, write and share poems. All levels of writing expertise welcome. For more info or to register, contact Weehawken Arts, https://www.weehawkenarts.org/all-classes/343-artbar-d-the-art-of-showing-up-with-rosemerry-wahtola-trommer
July 7, First Saturday Poetry Series at Bookbar in Denver: Naked for Tea and Phases: Rosemerry joins bestie Erika Moss Gordon for an evening of poetic play. Free. Mingling at 4:30, reading at 5:30. For more info, contact Kate@bookbardenver.com
One Desolation
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged answer, heart, poem, poetry, question on May 15, 2018| Leave a Comment »
I make in my heart a nest for the questions,
ask them to stay, and at the same time
post a sign that says
answers only—
no wonder they fly away.
Nine Years Since I’ve Seen Him
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged death, friendship, poem, poetry on May 14, 2018| 2 Comments »
for Jim Tipton
Margaret tells me
that while in a morphine stupor,
our friend told her I am dead.
I take the news of my death
rather well, I think,
remembering that just this morning
I ate blackberries
and pulled on my shoes
and drove a winding road.
But my friend, he is close
to death, his hand so tired
he signed only half his last name
in his book Margaret sends to me.
Reading it, he is in the room,
his voice still baritone and booming,
speaking of high desert honey and mesas
and cinnamon. I meet him there,
startled by how close he feels,
and when the book is over,
how enormous the emptiness.
On Mother’s Day
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged love, mother, mother's day, parenting, poem, poetry on May 13, 2018| Leave a Comment »
She looks so happy with her new baby, all coo
and smile and jiggle and swing.
I smile at her, and think of everything
I do not tell her. How the child will grow up
to break her heart over and over. How
she will give him more love
than she knew she had, and it will not
be enough. How he will hate her
for holding a line. How she must hold it,
still. How she will come to doubt herself.
How all of us are broken, no
matter how hard we’ve worked to be
whole, and how none of us can
carry the other, no matter how
much we long to. How she will
beg her own heart, Stay open,
stay open. And how some wise friend
may someday say to her,
Shut down your big heart
at many a time. It needs to rest
while you are awake.
And she will know perhaps by then
the truth of love, how it is never
what we imagined. How
big a risk it is to love. How
everything depends on this. And how
she will weep, someday, watching
another young mother in the park,
cooing at her baby, remembering
how simple it seemed, and how
perhaps it is still that simple,
a mother, a child, a big world to explore.
One Day Before Planting
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged garden, planting, poem, poetry, seed on May 12, 2018| Leave a Comment »
before the planting,
the dreaming, laying out seeds
while summer still fits in my hand
Happy Mother’s Day
Posted in Uncategorized on May 12, 2018| Leave a Comment »
To every mother, Happy Mother’s Day. Here are two poems published today in Telluride Inside and Out, one about my mother, one about being a mother … wishing you all grace and rest!
Priceless
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged clarity, poem, poetry on May 12, 2018| 2 Comments »
moments of clarity
strung like pearls
with knots between them
never touching
but oh, the sweet weight
of wearing that necklace