God must have tired
of all that sweet talk
and sending subtle signs,
coming instead the way
he did in a ripped white t-shirt,
banging at the car door.
I did not open it at first,
so he pulled off the handle,
then ripped the metal,
and pulled it off piece
by piece till nothing
remained of the door.
He was thirsty he said.
I gave him what I had,
half a bottle of spring water,
but he growled at me
knowing I was hiding
the tequila in the back seat.
I did not ask him
what he had to teach me.
Nor did I run
out the open door
to hide in the ditch.
I just handed him
the bottle, knowing
things would be really
uncontrollable now, and god,
he looked right at me
and took a big, long drink.
Posts Tagged ‘allowing’
Taking My Hands Off the Wheel
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged allowing, god, poem on December 8, 2012| 3 Comments »
Celebrate the world’s messiness with a new book of poems!
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged allowing, poetry book, Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer, spiritual path, surrender, The Less I Hold, with on December 4, 2012| 5 Comments »
Glorious book cover designed by Joel Bass
After many months of shuffling and tinkering, here comes The Less I Hold from Turkey Buzzard Press. The title is having a conversation with my book from three years ago, Holding Three Things at Once.
As you all know, who read these poems on the blog, I have a theme of letting go, of surrender, of practicing how to say yes to the world as it is … well, that’s what this collection is all about.
If you live in Colorado, perhaps you can join me at one of these upcoming events:
*Evergreen at Hearthfire Books on Friday, Dec. 7 from 7-9 p.m.,
with Jim Keller and David E. Patton
*Telluride at Between the Covers on Wednesday Dec. 12 at 5:12 p.m, and
*Ridgway at Cimarron Books on Saturday Dec. 15 from 3-5 p.m.
*Cortez at the Cultural Center on Wednesday, Dec. 19 from 5-7 p.m.
with Art Goodtimes and David Feela
*Telluride at the Telluride Historical Museum, Thursday, Dec. 28 from 5-7 p.m.
with an exhibit of Rosemerry’s poetry, books, rocks, videos up all month of Dec.
*Grand Junction at the Art Center on Jan. 4 at 7 p.m.
as an emcee for four poets yet to be announced
But no matter where you live, if you would like a copy of the book, you can email me at wordwoman@mesa.net and I will send you your own signed and gift wrapped copy … $15 plus $3 shipping …
Where the Light Comes In
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged acceptance, allowing, loss, love, poem, poetry on November 14, 2012| 3 Comments »
Perhaps we could have
seen it coming. That’s
what everyone likes
to say after the world
changes. But there
are things we cannot see,
losses we cannot foretell.
And the world is always
changing, My friend Barry
writes, it is easy to be
an addict of losses,
defining ourselves
by what isn’t there.
And then we tell
the endless versions
of what if and if only and
hush. That’s enough.
Nothing lasts. Not
the glittering rime
on the willows. Not
the lovers lips, not the crystal
dish. Even the longing
we knew would last
shifts. How we love
to visit the ruins. Here,
come walk with me the paths
of this still breaking heart.
What We Call Waiting
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged allowing, election, peace, poem, poetry, uncertainty, unknowing, waiting on November 6, 2012| 2 Comments »
And then there is
that moment after
the thrust and jostle
and sprint, after the longing
and righteousness, after the fever,
the furor, the fire, the conviction, when,
burnt out by our own
red ferocity, we see
there is nothing, nothing
to be done. There is
no defeat in this,
only release,
Then only
uncertainty is sound
enough to hold us up.
Then unknowingness is the only
place we can truly rest.
Of Leaves and Ideas
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged allowing, autumn, fall, freedom, letting go, poem, poetry on October 3, 2012| 3 Comments »
so small
the weight
and yet
too much
to hold
and so
it falls
not that
it is
not lovely
not that
it is
not wanted
not that
we could
force the
liberation
just that
it is
time
for it
to fall
The Precious Matter of Love
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged acceptance, allowing, donkey, hafiz, love, poem, poetry on September 30, 2012| 5 Comments »
Why just ask the donkey in me
to speak to the donkey in you
when I have so many other beautiful animals
and brilliant colored birds inside
all longing to say something
exciting and wonderful to your heart?
—Hafiz, “Why Just Ask the Donkey”
Dear, though I have come to you
as many other beautiful animals—
long-necked swan and Persian cat—
though I have worn for you
my most vermillion feathers and
sung to you with the voice of the bird
that always disappears before it can be named,
though I have come to you as lamb, as heron,
please, do not refuse my donkey.
Clumsy and stubborn, all tug and bray,
gray and dull and smelling of dung,
of course you would want to turn away.
But please, if you can, meet me this way,
when I am awkward and stepping
on my own feet, yours, too. Meet me
when I am unlovable and love me then.
Though I stink. Though I am not graceful
nor lovely nor easy nor strong. But here
I am, nuzzling your hand as it opens, aspiring to
be nowhere but here. Dear, we are nothing
but flesh for life to push through. I am done
hiding inside the bright wings, or even,
for that matter, beneath the dun hide.
Only a heart touches another heart.
Here is mine.
How the Days Go
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged allowing, loss of self, poem, poetry, resistance on September 23, 2012| 2 Comments »
Looking in the rubble
one might wonder
what is left to break.
Such a dangerous thought.
There is always more.
And one part of me
says to the other,
Hush, don’t ask.
Don’t look. Things
are settling now.
Let’s talk about
something else.
And the other part
smiles, says
nothing, already
feeling the distant
tremor.
Trying to Make Myself Relax
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged allowing, letting go, not trying, poem, poetry, surrender, trying on September 13, 2012| 2 Comments »
It’s like trying
to fall asleep.
Nothing to be done
except lay there
and let sleep
come do the work.
But who wants
to hear that?
We want to know
what to do.
One tiny pill.
Ten easy steps.
Three simple tips.
But nothing to do?
Immediately
the mind says,
okay, I will
not try even harder.
This is when,
I would guess,
the soul is laughing
its best belly laugh, watching
the mind grasping
at how not to grasp.
But there is grace.
And there is exhaustion.
Both work in our favor.
Sometimes it happens,
I wear myself out,
and too tired to pull out
any more tricks,
I notice that I
have forgotten
to remember to
struggle, and how
easy it is then
to see god in everything,
even the anger,
even the clench,
forgetting even
to despise frustration,
forgetting even
not to try.
Release
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged allowing, flow, letting go, poem, river, surrender on September 12, 2012| 3 Comments »
Something softens when we enter the flow.
—Joi Sharp
Not that I didn’t try to find the shore.
I scraped at the stones, grasping as I passed,
clawing until my fingers bled. Not that I didn’t try
to stall in the eddy where I spiraled down,
down. I tried. I tried. What if, instead, I had
fallen in love with the angry swirl, fallen in
love with the waves’ white froth, fallen in love
with the chill, the roil. It did not last, the chaos. It delivered
me to the warm quiet water that also did not last.
At one point, though, it happened, through no effort
of my own, the small unvoice in me began to whisper,
world I love you, world I love you, world I love
you I said to the rocks, to the shore, to the heron
standing in the center of the stream as I passed.
As In All Things
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged allowing, poem, poetry, rain, what is on August 26, 2012| 3 Comments »
Rain in our hair and rain
in our hands, rain on our
cheeks and rain in our lashes,
our pockets, our plans.
The rain, how it rains, how
we forget how we longed
to be dry. How we tiptoed
around the puddle. How
we huddled beneath the tree.
How we tried so hard not
to be what now feels so wetly fine.
Rain harder, rain, there is still
too much of me that tries to hide.
In the Rose Garden Beneath the Museum
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged allowing, perfume, poem, roses, searching, separateness, unity on August 15, 2012| 3 Comments »
We ran from flower
to flower, thrusting
our noses into the rose bushes,
snagging our legs on the thorns
and calling to each other
to come, share this one,
yes, this one, so sweet.
It was a glorious searching,
though what was the point,
the perfume was everywhere.
Nine Dismantlings
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged allowing, growing, haiku, letting go, not knowing, poem, receptivity on August 9, 2012| 2 Comments »
my hammer, my nails
what good are they now
the whole roof collapsed
*
doe in the meadow
my thoughts in the meadow
one of these is quiet
**
so much to learn
about
not knowing
***
not by the shoulders
but by the soul
life shakes me
****
hands bloody
tearing down a wall
that isn’t even there
*****
doe in the meadow
my thoughts in the meadow
one of these is quiet
******
at the same time
the tree grows
toward darkness, toward light
*******
so open my hands
not holding
my hammer, my nails
*********
surrounded by rubble
still I beg Love, keep having
your way with me
Change: Six Attempts
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged allowing, change, grace, haiku, heron, poem, poetry, self, sky, tanka on July 28, 2012| 3 Comments »
I tell myself
there will be more light
still I don’t like it
this scent of old wood splintering
as the roof blows apart
*
my life packed
in boxes–the urge
to lose them
*
the orchards in us
not enough hands
to harvest all this ripeness
*
one heron
in great blue wings he gathers
the whole world
*
I thought I knew
who I was, then the bars
bent enough
I could slip outside of her
how many bars don’t I see?
*
sky so pink
I make of myself
an offering
Learning to Swim
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged allowing, learning, poem, poetry, relaxing, swim lessons on July 18, 2012| 2 Comments »
And again she scoops air
into her cheeks, buoys her body,
and flops face first into the water,
her limbs, unsyncopated,
thrash with joy. She is all splash
then all snort, and she wretches
and belches the water, then smiles
wide enough for three smiles,
giddy with the wonder of floating—
how just an hour ago she didn’t know
that it would be today
that she would lift
her feet from the bottom and rise
to the water’s top. I wonder
how many pools I’ve been wading in,
waist deep, not knowing
the morning will come
maybe today, when I will stumble
and find all my weight is lifted,
supported, if only I relax.
A Poem Not Really About Apricots
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged allowing, apricots, denial, loss, poem, poetry, what is on June 20, 2012| 6 Comments »
Perhaps
I thought
by leaning
into loss,
it would become
more comfortable.
But it is like
overripe apricots.
There is no
managing,
no pretending,
no way
to make
it anything
but what
it is.
They are overripe.
Nothing
to be done
about a gift
like that
except to walk
the rows
and gather
the sunwarmed
flesh, bruised
and soft,
and eat it until
you can’t
eat another
sweet bite,
then gather
the fruit
to freeze
until the freezer
will hold no more
and then
when the orchard
floor is still
mottled with
fruit on the edge
of moldering,
know there
is really
nothing
to be done,
and though
it is uncomfortable
stop naming
this experience
loss and
start leaning
into what is,
the only
place
we can
rest.
The Price of Happiness
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged allowing, happiness, love, poem, poetry, quietude on June 7, 2012| 2 Comments »
Sorrow happens, hardship happens, the hell with it, who never knew the price of happiness, will not be happy.
—Yevgeny Yevtushenko
Just as the splinters
slip in a bit deeper
beneath the bruise, just
as the clench in my
chest clenches tighter,
just as the tap roots
of ache push lower
into my groin and tease
new depths of darkness,
it occurs to me, soft
as sheepskin, weightless
as being swung off my feet,
how lucky it is to love, and though
the roots still reach
their terrible reach,
and the splinters slip in,
oh please, not so deep,
there is a strange
joy that blooms
in my cheeks
like cherry stain,
like joy.
We’re Not Ready Till We’re Ready Haiku
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged allowing, haiku, patience, poems, poetry, spring on March 11, 2012| 3 Comments »
eruption of crocuses—
that old brittle oak leaf still
not ready to fall
So Full, So All Alone
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged allowing, moon, not knowing, poems, poetry, poetry video, what is on March 10, 2012| 10 Comments »
Tired and cold
she came to a clearing
beside the river
and set herself down.
There, the moon.
The moon.
*
Not once had she dreamed
to bring the moon any closer.
Not once had she wished
it would move any faster.
*
How to stay in this place
of not wanting
not needing
not wishing
not hoping
not reaching, not knowing.
*
At the edge of whatever
she thought she knew
she leaned
until the only thing
touching her
was nothing.
*
Sometimes a story
ends. Sometimes it
plays again. Sometimes
we see through a story
to see ourselves.