I am wearing your clothes today, Mother, my heart. Your earthy-tones with purple hues surround me. Your textiles embrace me with their softness as if they are striving to be your arms. I have given many of your clothes away to the worthy: to the ones who saw you for what you really were – … Continue reading Dusk with Stars and Missing the Sun
This image is a still from Becoming Who I Was, the film this poem is based on. It is a documentary about a child who was a Rinpoche in his previous lifetime, and is displaced from his home in Tibet due to reincarnating in a rural region of China. He must travel, with the help of his elderly guardian, from a village in wintering China, through India, to Tibet, in the hopes of being reunited with his disciples who must claim him in order for him to fulfill his purpose for reincarnating. But Tibetan borders, as we know, are blocked and heavily guarded. I highly recommend the film, for the moving story, and for the stunning photography. And now the poem.
Poet's Notes: This was written in response to a journal prompt by Pixie Lighthorse from her book, "Prayers of Honoring Grief." The question was: How can I honor what I've been through?
Poet's Notes: I rarely write rhyming poems, unless I'm writing song lyrics, and even then they are more loose and lyrical. This is not technically perfect rhyming or meter, I just wanted to try and express an idea this way. It's a good exercise, and sometimes the limitations of rhyme lead to more concise metaphor, or at least, to keeping one on a more defined track. Also, there is irony in this topic being expressed within the confines of an imposed 'meter', which is apropos, and somewhat amusing to my geeky brain.
Author's note: I wrote this Double Haiku as an epilogue to my poem Weekdays. It was almost in the long form free verse, but I liked it much better short and sweet, (No pun intended. Well, maybe a little!).
Just like that, the change. Crimson to cobalt. When he snaps under pressure from duties pulling the band of his life, it stings. Leaves a dark mark. When he disconnects from fleshy ones around him because it is time to plug into the device, he's a slave, milked, for a patch of pasture. And he … Continue reading Weekdays
Sometimes a little says a lot. This one was just too big to do it any other way.
I wrote this in a birthday card for someone very special this weekend, and thought I'd share it, since I've noticed that Someone picking up the card and re-reading it in the following days. Apparently it is a poem, according to said person, and upon re-reading, I supposed they are right. So I asked Special … Continue reading Happy Birthday
Here is a piece I wrote about being an almost step-monster.
Your eyes are the sky with clouds toying with rain and dancing with the sun. Your blues are great lakes reflecting light and hiding the depths. The ocean plays this game before dusk, in the afternoon: she fools you into the comfort of a washed tone with sheets of silver, masking the blue that could swallow … Continue reading My Elemental