for my daughter
“Snuggle,” she said,
a two-syllable passport
to another world—
the world in which
she is more dream
than mask, more breath
than task, her softness
inviting my softness,
and I slipped beside
her dream-scented body
and curled myself
into her shape,
one arm draped
across her weight,
and matched my inhale
to her inhale, matched
my every exhale to hers
and listened as once again
sleep took her,
and she was not curious,
not smart, not funny,
not brave, but so deeply
herself, and how could I not
fall deeper in love,
a pilgrim in this realm
of sweet defenselessness,
the silken luff of our breaths
weaving around us
like a cocoon.
Posts Tagged ‘dreams’
Before the Wings Appear
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged daughter, dreams, mother, sleep, touch, vulnerability on June 3, 2023| 5 Comments »
First Time Driving in the Berkshires
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged becoming, daughter, dreams, home, parenting on May 5, 2023| 6 Comments »
I could live here, says my daughter;
and staring into the generous green
and the time-softened hills,
she sees an open door in the landscape,
a door she could walk through
and call the new place home—
and I watch as she becomes
the hero of her own story,
watch as in the passenger seat
she grows wings, listen as she hums
like a tuning fork suddenly come alive,
struck by her own dreams,
and mygod, its beautiful watching
as aspiration slips itself into her body
and whispers possibilities
and bids her keep her eyes open.
Always Becoming: Dream & Poetry Workshop on January 8, Telluride
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Ah Haa School for the Arts, Corinne Platt, dreams, poetry, poetry workshop, Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer on December 31, 2019| Leave a Comment »
Poetry and dream work walk hand in hand in the most creative and inspiring ways. In this workshop, dream practitioner Corinne Platt and poet Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer will work with students to explore the landscape of dreams. We’ll use 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.
For more information, visit The Ah Haa School
On Discovering Myself in Wikipedia
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged aspirations, dreams, poem, poetry, self, wikipedia on July 3, 2019| 10 Comments »
I’m exactly the person that I thought I’d be.
—Amanda Palmer, “In My Mind”
And there she was in Wikipedia, the woman
with my name who went to my college and
attended my grad school and graduated the same
years as I did. She wrote books that I wrote
and lives in the same state I do.
There was no picture of her, but I think
I might recognize her if I see her. Though in reality,
I recognize her less and less. I remember
how much she wanted to be in Wikipedia.
How the bio she wished for included honors
way beyond the honors they list. I know
how she still struggles with what she thinks she wants
and who she actually is. Of course, I love
that they spelled her name right. That they
neglected to mention the awards she didn’t get
last week. How they left out the part
where she didn’t want to get out of bed
in the morning for months. But dang.
Wikipedia. I mean, how could that not
make her feel as if she’s somehow arrived—
categorized as “American Woman Poet,”
which, they don’t mention, has been
her dream since fifth grade. If they knew,
they might expand her bio to mention the winter day
back in 1979 when she sat in a beanbag
on Mrs. Zabrowski’s fifth grade floor
and stared out the window
at the furious Wisconsin winter storm
and read “The Snowflake” by Walter de la Mare,
falling in love with what poems can do.
That was the day she felt the wild tremor
of words and thought, Maybe I could do it, too.
And maybe tonight, looking in the mirror,
she will see that no matter the honors
she never received, she did follow
the wild tremor of words to become
the woman she dreamed she could be.
And though Wikipedia won’t tell you why,
she’s starting to believe she’s exactly
the woman she dreamed she could be.
I Never Knew Dreams Had Wings Until They No Longer Flew, And
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cage, dreams, poem, poetry on September 28, 2016| 1 Comment »
they didn’t look
like a cage, those years,
until I was offered a key
and realized I knew not
how to use it
And Could It Be More
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged breathing, dad, daughter, dreams, love, parents, poems, poetry on February 11, 2012| 1 Comment »
In the other room I hear
my father snoring
and imagine how
he’s stood before
outside my door
and listened
to my tides of sleep
with, could it be,
as much love for me
as I have now for him—
his shore is my shore,
our heart sails
open.
fifteen
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged dreams, haiku, lily, losing the self, loss, meditation, moon, parenting, real, snow, stars, sufficient on January 17, 2012| 5 Comments »
blank field of snow
just after the blizzard
tracked up in minutes
*
driving sixty
while the tears on her cheeks
went eighty
*
these deep scars
I wish I could forget why
you can’t see them
*
even when I sit
very, very still, God sits
stiller
*
the trees pushing green
and in me a longing to
lose everything
*
even though I know
they won’t fit, I try them on
her mood rings
*
those gossamer dreams
when was it that they became
nooses?
*
all I want to know:
when I am with you, can I
be myself?
*
watching that star
I forget which of us
is moving
*
though all the petals
fell, the lily pistil still
dripping
*
come morning my hair
all tangled after a night
of tussling with words
*
no one says to
the lily, hey, one more petal
would look better
*
these haiku
perhaps I can scrawl them on
bits of DNA
*
more poem sprouts?
said the tears—but we just
started plowing
*
quarter moon
the boy says, it’s broken,
mommy fix it?
*
these dead willow sticks
beside me are so beautiful
I am beautiful
13 Ways of Looking at the Rocks
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged 13 ways, dreams, gilgamesh, holding on, letting go, rocks on November 13, 2011| 1 Comment »
Gilgamesh, too, found rocks
in his path. They were like crumbs
for Hansel and Gretel, like
Ariadne’s red fleece thread.
It’s so hard, sometimes,
to see how we are being led.
We think we know the path.
We think we know something.
*
In a dream, I say,
It’s the rocks
that I just can’t let go of.
*
By the river, all the rocks
are softened, tumbled and smooth.
They are nearly impossible
to balance, to stack—
but possible it is.
*
So on the path
Gilgamesh, in his urgency,
smashed the rocks.
*
The ice
is thin.
The rocks,
flung underhand,
make such
satisfying holes.
Why is it satisfying?
The sound of shattering.
The sksksksksksk of pond ice resettling.
The hole.
*
Inside the stone,
it is dark.
Not like a shadow.
Like dark.
*
He broke everything
he needed
to find his way.
*
I do not know
why I break
what I need,
why I repel
what I love,
why I hold on
to rocks in a dream.
*
It’s not a path,
says my teacher,
it’s a beckoning.
*
By the continual
creeping of ants
a stone
will wear
away.
*
A stone
thrown into the pond
will not move
for many, many, many years.
A stone
thrown into the pond
is not lost.
*
There is no permanence.
*
My son says, Mom,
they’re all so beautiful,
every one of these rocks.
We toss them,
rock by rock,
into the river.