Reaching beyond the morning musings of living one more day
I oil my feet for my daily walk of miles to destinations yet
Dawdling on my horizon…
I stretch and massage, I
Groom and dust them off from yesterday’s missteps—
My hands are empty but full of phrases and thoughts needing
To be sown, maybe even pruned by another’s wisdom.
I limber them up in anxious prayer,
Asking for more than gentle hands but delivering hands—
Life is a tide of salt mixed with seashells you can pick,
Look at and toss back into the revolution never quite seeing
The magic, the dainty intricacies water plays upon them…
Or it can be Revelations that spin, and awakenings that
Splash upon your face with a baptism of fresh eyes!
Its too sad to overlook the singing Oriole and miss a
Full moon along the path of coming to Know
And all because you forgot to wait.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
“Squinting”
Late,
when “later” feels early
when a minute stays around for more than a
commercial break—
I face the shadows that tend to crouch during
Daylight’s stint
And as they loom beside me like redwoods
I look up to see their limbs are nothing more than
Twigs
I
Can
step on
and break
If I only gave up to squint!
when “later” feels early
when a minute stays around for more than a
commercial break—
I face the shadows that tend to crouch during
Daylight’s stint
And as they loom beside me like redwoods
I look up to see their limbs are nothing more than
Twigs
I
Can
step on
and break
If I only gave up to squint!
“Evaluating”
History repeats itself…
Life rarely gives you a break…
Time rolls on its regiment tic-tocks,
And seasons bear and blossom their seeds…
But Love,
Love demands metamorphosis at every curve,
New dealing of events,
Circular equation and flowering;
It bends but follows its geometry closely
While everything that beats within,
That weighs, that renders salvation and willows
Softly
Has to listen
Then crawl on sacred ground.
Life rarely gives you a break…
Time rolls on its regiment tic-tocks,
And seasons bear and blossom their seeds…
But Love,
Love demands metamorphosis at every curve,
New dealing of events,
Circular equation and flowering;
It bends but follows its geometry closely
While everything that beats within,
That weighs, that renders salvation and willows
Softly
Has to listen
Then crawl on sacred ground.
"September’s Arrival at my Doorway”
I ravish the evenings arriving sooner like a
Passionate lover absent for too long—
The mooting of summer’s perfumes and the closure of
Full-blown light every morning—
I tremble to pull out my spring bulbs and bury them
Like gold and silver unseen—
Moonlight whispering cold and fondue parties with
Soft candlelight of apple spice—
September vivifies the introspections of soul like
The glaciating mountains in silence—
Ruminating, finding their niche so to sleep and then
Shake at springs kissing—
It embers gently, suspiciously as if someone would
Snuff it out too soon—
I travel alone into plotting hopes and reduce ice cream
Bowls with oatmeal’s cinnamon--
Miscreant as it may some times be with the unexpected
Heat and elongated sun-kissed troubling—
Days are slightly shorter for most living breathing ways,
As I turn down the lights,
Pick up Keats and Dickinsen, Rumi and rosehips
For morning simmering decadence.
September wears sandals but shuffles a little slower
For my hands to pick the last sun-flowering.
Passionate lover absent for too long—
The mooting of summer’s perfumes and the closure of
Full-blown light every morning—
I tremble to pull out my spring bulbs and bury them
Like gold and silver unseen—
Moonlight whispering cold and fondue parties with
Soft candlelight of apple spice—
September vivifies the introspections of soul like
The glaciating mountains in silence—
Ruminating, finding their niche so to sleep and then
Shake at springs kissing—
It embers gently, suspiciously as if someone would
Snuff it out too soon—
I travel alone into plotting hopes and reduce ice cream
Bowls with oatmeal’s cinnamon--
Miscreant as it may some times be with the unexpected
Heat and elongated sun-kissed troubling—
Days are slightly shorter for most living breathing ways,
As I turn down the lights,
Pick up Keats and Dickinsen, Rumi and rosehips
For morning simmering decadence.
September wears sandals but shuffles a little slower
For my hands to pick the last sun-flowering.
“Developing our Talents”
I am compelled to voice my temper in tantrums at times
Just like spilling a glass full of grape juice only
You can feel—
Tenderness is not always my talent though I try…
But ask me to love you
and Dante couldn’t convey it explicitly enough!
That’s your evident talent!
Just like spilling a glass full of grape juice only
You can feel—
Tenderness is not always my talent though I try…
But ask me to love you
and Dante couldn’t convey it explicitly enough!
That’s your evident talent!
“Timing”
Crunch!
Did it break?
Did it crack only?
Did it get smashed?
Oops!
Dropped it on the freshly mopped floor,
smudged it,
spilled it;
threw it.
Splattering is a talent on canvas they say…
He turned his peachy face around and teeny tears welled
Up in his gigantic brown eyes,
Then stood up all by himself—a soloist!
Timing is so important!
Did it break?
Did it crack only?
Did it get smashed?
Oops!
Dropped it on the freshly mopped floor,
smudged it,
spilled it;
threw it.
Splattering is a talent on canvas they say…
He turned his peachy face around and teeny tears welled
Up in his gigantic brown eyes,
Then stood up all by himself—a soloist!
Timing is so important!
“Have You Created Any Dirt Lately?”
It never stops to amaze me how far from the heart the
God of creation is--
Have His trees become less important for breathing or the rain less
Vital for the roses, the dandelions and peony petals to perfume;
Or do corn and wheat feed the hungry less than do
Apples and sweet round peaches because we waste more?
Have the oceans stopped roaring or mesmerizing lovers,
Mountains and hills erased from the skies canvas without notice?
Have children ceased smiling or widows weeping as though
They belong to somebody else and not you?
Are we so deaf and blind that divinity has been
Be-laboured,
Disenthesized,
Mulled and chewed over then
Nullified beyond recognition?
What has happened to the heart, which understood the unseen?
Heard the buzzing bee,
Found the song through the storms,
Watched a baby sleep;
Dreamt new possibilities,
Hoped impossibilities;
Sowed the mustard seed and then sheltered the fowls?
Why are we so distant from God?
What demands the conscience to a labyrinth of no sorts--?
Of no Voice that identifies Whose You Are,
Of no quiet reflections,
Or why grapes grow on vines and coconuts are coarse?
The questions are all around us
Like a hive never ending its
Production!
And the answers are refuted by the “intelligent”
Which, co-equal themselves
With God but have yet to create dirt!
God of creation is--
Have His trees become less important for breathing or the rain less
Vital for the roses, the dandelions and peony petals to perfume;
Or do corn and wheat feed the hungry less than do
Apples and sweet round peaches because we waste more?
Have the oceans stopped roaring or mesmerizing lovers,
Mountains and hills erased from the skies canvas without notice?
Have children ceased smiling or widows weeping as though
They belong to somebody else and not you?
Are we so deaf and blind that divinity has been
Be-laboured,
Disenthesized,
Mulled and chewed over then
Nullified beyond recognition?
What has happened to the heart, which understood the unseen?
Heard the buzzing bee,
Found the song through the storms,
Watched a baby sleep;
Dreamt new possibilities,
Hoped impossibilities;
Sowed the mustard seed and then sheltered the fowls?
Why are we so distant from God?
What demands the conscience to a labyrinth of no sorts--?
Of no Voice that identifies Whose You Are,
Of no quiet reflections,
Or why grapes grow on vines and coconuts are coarse?
The questions are all around us
Like a hive never ending its
Production!
And the answers are refuted by the “intelligent”
Which, co-equal themselves
With God but have yet to create dirt!
“One”
Ever felt you had nothing to say?
Not like persimmons looking pretty, all tempting the
Eye to come, see, touch…
Then you slit it open
And the flesh spills over,
Gooey, sticky, giving you red fingerprints!
Jerky motions go ’round your tongue that
Suddenly remind you of mucous
You only want to spit out of your mouth!
No, just sitting silent, like a Redwood,
Or a goldfish swimming in a common round bowl,
Acquiesced to everything and nothing but
Blooming in milliseconds no mortal eye can perceive…
Ever felt like a drippy oil stain, a huge blot no one wants
To see yet no one wants to remove? Almost a reminder that’s
Where you go, sort of not to disturb a rhythm,
A balance, a “look?”
Today is like that—
I just want others to walk by me,
No breadcrumbs are necessary,
No pity sigh like one breathes for an unruly weed next
To a flower bed of begonias;
I just want to be invisible…
Unidentified.
Not like persimmons looking pretty, all tempting the
Eye to come, see, touch…
Then you slit it open
And the flesh spills over,
Gooey, sticky, giving you red fingerprints!
Jerky motions go ’round your tongue that
Suddenly remind you of mucous
You only want to spit out of your mouth!
No, just sitting silent, like a Redwood,
Or a goldfish swimming in a common round bowl,
Acquiesced to everything and nothing but
Blooming in milliseconds no mortal eye can perceive…
Ever felt like a drippy oil stain, a huge blot no one wants
To see yet no one wants to remove? Almost a reminder that’s
Where you go, sort of not to disturb a rhythm,
A balance, a “look?”
Today is like that—
I just want others to walk by me,
No breadcrumbs are necessary,
No pity sigh like one breathes for an unruly weed next
To a flower bed of begonias;
I just want to be invisible…
Unidentified.
“Cristobal”
Pudgy cheeks and dark Navajo-like hair
Jumps up and down from the play—pen…
A single paper plate with a rubber band entertains
His round little manly fingers as he licks the
Back and front of it.
He mumbles and demands from sister what she
Refuses to give more of—attention, but he
Slowly captures her bright and gleaming smile until
She lifts and throws him over her shoulder like a
Big bag of sweet bread,
Kissing, hugging and smelling his sweet breath and sugary
Saliva from his nine-month-old teething…
He giggles uttering a language of delight,
Gnawing the cracker in his hand while bronco-riding a pretend
Pony from his pen—
Back and forth,
Back and forth,
Back and forth…
Could life be more tamed yet, wild?
Jumps up and down from the play—pen…
A single paper plate with a rubber band entertains
His round little manly fingers as he licks the
Back and front of it.
He mumbles and demands from sister what she
Refuses to give more of—attention, but he
Slowly captures her bright and gleaming smile until
She lifts and throws him over her shoulder like a
Big bag of sweet bread,
Kissing, hugging and smelling his sweet breath and sugary
Saliva from his nine-month-old teething…
He giggles uttering a language of delight,
Gnawing the cracker in his hand while bronco-riding a pretend
Pony from his pen—
Back and forth,
Back and forth,
Back and forth…
Could life be more tamed yet, wild?
“DID YOU EVER!”
Did you ever want something so bad it rose up
In your mouth you can just about taste it?
Loving you
was a watershed of thirsts I have never had…
then I tasted you,
slapped my knee a couple times,
held my throat a few seconds,
blew out in ecstasy,
eyes watered and
salt puddles appeared on my forehead!
Did you ever amaze yourself when something was
Better than you imagined?
Loving you
Was a verifying of Memphis…
Then I met your soul,
A Monet,
Yellowstone in autumn,
Daffodils at dawning,
Greece’s spectacular ruins and
Wings sprouting without a single effort!
Did you ever feel something was too beautiful to
Look at without crying?
Loving you
Was meeting God’s face touching mine.
Clutching a perfect bouquet of roses,
Kissing a pink baby’s foot,
Bathing in a clear stream,
Unloosing my hair and walking naked on petals.
In your mouth you can just about taste it?
Loving you
was a watershed of thirsts I have never had…
then I tasted you,
slapped my knee a couple times,
held my throat a few seconds,
blew out in ecstasy,
eyes watered and
salt puddles appeared on my forehead!
Did you ever amaze yourself when something was
Better than you imagined?
Loving you
Was a verifying of Memphis…
Then I met your soul,
A Monet,
Yellowstone in autumn,
Daffodils at dawning,
Greece’s spectacular ruins and
Wings sprouting without a single effort!
Did you ever feel something was too beautiful to
Look at without crying?
Loving you
Was meeting God’s face touching mine.
Clutching a perfect bouquet of roses,
Kissing a pink baby’s foot,
Bathing in a clear stream,
Unloosing my hair and walking naked on petals.
“Bridle Your Passions”
Computers can be addicting.
Martinis
and pizza
and chocolate can all become
‘best friends’—
appetites are little devils ringing low-tone bells of
thoughtlessness,
selfishness,
emptiness and ultimately welcoming gargoyles of
midnight voids no one thinks of inviting in—
I actually caught one the other nights sniffing around
For devil’s food cake!
Martinis
and pizza
and chocolate can all become
‘best friends’—
appetites are little devils ringing low-tone bells of
thoughtlessness,
selfishness,
emptiness and ultimately welcoming gargoyles of
midnight voids no one thinks of inviting in—
I actually caught one the other nights sniffing around
For devil’s food cake!
“Dragons Still Cry”
Moonlight eases itself into my bones,
Taxing my spirit with fresh desires to wield my
Sword and slay the green dragons
That lay asleep during the western sun that burns
Twelve long hours—
They stir and flip open their great big green eyes,
Flare their nose and shine bright to my fear as the
Moon glints and glitters upon their scales
Of silver gray—
Hoops of smoke rise to the stars and circle around
Like twilight orbs…
I watch my dragons and go into my mode of
Defense but they water my feet with their ethereal tears;
So I toss my stick-sword and cry with them—
Loneliness is a garden where dragons hide.
Taxing my spirit with fresh desires to wield my
Sword and slay the green dragons
That lay asleep during the western sun that burns
Twelve long hours—
They stir and flip open their great big green eyes,
Flare their nose and shine bright to my fear as the
Moon glints and glitters upon their scales
Of silver gray—
Hoops of smoke rise to the stars and circle around
Like twilight orbs…
I watch my dragons and go into my mode of
Defense but they water my feet with their ethereal tears;
So I toss my stick-sword and cry with them—
Loneliness is a garden where dragons hide.
“The Power of Waiting”
Reaching beyond the morning musings of living one more day
I oil my feet for my daily walk of miles to destinations yet
Dawdling on my horizon…
I stretch and massage, I
Groom and dust them off from yesterday’s missteps—
My hands are empty but full of phrases and thoughts needing
To be sown, maybe even pruned by another’s wisdom.
I limber them up in anxious prayer,
Asking for more than gentle hands but delivering hands—
Life is a tide of salt mixed with seashells you can pick,
Look at and toss back into the revolution never quite seeing
The magic, the dainty intricacies water plays upon them…
Or it can be Revelations that spin, and awakenings that
Splash upon your face with a baptism of fresh eyes!
Its too sad to overlook the singing Oriole and miss a
Full moon along the path of coming to Know
And all because you forgot to wait.
I oil my feet for my daily walk of miles to destinations yet
Dawdling on my horizon…
I stretch and massage, I
Groom and dust them off from yesterday’s missteps—
My hands are empty but full of phrases and thoughts needing
To be sown, maybe even pruned by another’s wisdom.
I limber them up in anxious prayer,
Asking for more than gentle hands but delivering hands—
Life is a tide of salt mixed with seashells you can pick,
Look at and toss back into the revolution never quite seeing
The magic, the dainty intricacies water plays upon them…
Or it can be Revelations that spin, and awakenings that
Splash upon your face with a baptism of fresh eyes!
Its too sad to overlook the singing Oriole and miss a
Full moon along the path of coming to Know
And all because you forgot to wait.
”SUPPOSITIONS”
Deeming is a dangerous practice.
The pint is very close to the half pint.
Love resembles so many similarities
Like hybrids of roses.
Choosing is deigned to each of us humans
Playing at God…
So I choose silence from hypothesizing
Too
Much
And deeming one rose above another.
The pint is very close to the half pint.
Love resembles so many similarities
Like hybrids of roses.
Choosing is deigned to each of us humans
Playing at God…
So I choose silence from hypothesizing
Too
Much
And deeming one rose above another.
“CUBAN VESTIGES”
The sounds of tropical woodwinds,
Strings,
Beads strung together
And lamentations
Pulls my soul to the dreaminess of
Red hibiscus
Pointing far away…
Words I’ve heard before,
Sentiments vivified through the older generation,
Tobacco,
Roasted pig,
And lustrous laughter…
Was I borne into these?
Or was it effigies around my young neck that
Lured me,
Bred me
To sugar cane’s blood?
Or was it destiny?
The Caribbean rums my eccentricities
and the Island is as familiar as Abuela and Abuelo.
Strings,
Beads strung together
And lamentations
Pulls my soul to the dreaminess of
Red hibiscus
Pointing far away…
Words I’ve heard before,
Sentiments vivified through the older generation,
Tobacco,
Roasted pig,
And lustrous laughter…
Was I borne into these?
Or was it effigies around my young neck that
Lured me,
Bred me
To sugar cane’s blood?
Or was it destiny?
The Caribbean rums my eccentricities
and the Island is as familiar as Abuela and Abuelo.
“EVERY BREATH”
The sun felt for the earth’s soft face
Kissing it gently first;
Then the fire rose like a flick of a match.
Embracing the arduous warmth Earth
Clamored for more as she breathed faster and the
Riverbeds rumbled,
The trees spread their arms wider,
The azaleas shook off the dew
And the apples shined redder…
Sweetly the sun backed off after hours of
Passion, the burning of Rome could never compare!
Moonlight neared and calmed the atmosphere
But suddenly the jasmines awoke
Like peeking stars and jaded all other
Perfected perfume!
The Earth sighed and prided herself in
Timeliness!
Kissing it gently first;
Then the fire rose like a flick of a match.
Embracing the arduous warmth Earth
Clamored for more as she breathed faster and the
Riverbeds rumbled,
The trees spread their arms wider,
The azaleas shook off the dew
And the apples shined redder…
Sweetly the sun backed off after hours of
Passion, the burning of Rome could never compare!
Moonlight neared and calmed the atmosphere
But suddenly the jasmines awoke
Like peeking stars and jaded all other
Perfected perfume!
The Earth sighed and prided herself in
Timeliness!
“Verbal Abuse”
I lip sync to your eel-like words inching their way
To my soul;
Ones that I have tried to butterfly away from,
Ones that I have band-aid, anointed and oiled like
A medicine man, healing for a while…
At times I can raspberry them,
Rationalize them,
Bat them at you like a Home Run,
Divide them into my fault, your fault, or
I just take them in as guests.
But it is lip-syncing that I mock at,
Tasting, chewing on your cud because I know
Too well the bits, scraps and crumbs you toss…
Maybe I should tip you for teaching me so well
The sport of catching a fly fish
And tossing it back in the water.
To my soul;
Ones that I have tried to butterfly away from,
Ones that I have band-aid, anointed and oiled like
A medicine man, healing for a while…
At times I can raspberry them,
Rationalize them,
Bat them at you like a Home Run,
Divide them into my fault, your fault, or
I just take them in as guests.
But it is lip-syncing that I mock at,
Tasting, chewing on your cud because I know
Too well the bits, scraps and crumbs you toss…
Maybe I should tip you for teaching me so well
The sport of catching a fly fish
And tossing it back in the water.
“Lure”
Hanging on the bough are a few rotting peaches.
I stare at them from my window as though they were
Beckoning me to see, to hear and to tell their story…
Browning under the sun and losing luster they cease to
Be appealing to the eye but my mouth waters at the smell
Of their odor coming from a high breeze blowing…
How did I forget to pick them?
They were too high and there were so many others
Easier to grasp and just bite!
Now my hunger aches in my throat and I wonder if
I never saw them would I desire their succulence at this
Hour of reflection…
Temptation is a fruit that can hurricane or lulls you
Into tasting more than nectar…
Sometimes leaving it rot is safer.
I stare at them from my window as though they were
Beckoning me to see, to hear and to tell their story…
Browning under the sun and losing luster they cease to
Be appealing to the eye but my mouth waters at the smell
Of their odor coming from a high breeze blowing…
How did I forget to pick them?
They were too high and there were so many others
Easier to grasp and just bite!
Now my hunger aches in my throat and I wonder if
I never saw them would I desire their succulence at this
Hour of reflection…
Temptation is a fruit that can hurricane or lulls you
Into tasting more than nectar…
Sometimes leaving it rot is safer.
“Postpartum”
“Postpartum”
What makes one love another when their spindle
Spin opposite?
Is it the heart knows something the
Head can only fathom in theory and the
Soul pristinely comprehends, like God?
‘Verily I say, love one another as I have loved you…’
Like one plus one
But it does not always equal two…
There is bountiful moonlight bouncing off the
Pink begonias in the blue pot
And the breeze, soft, like an Irish tune…
Do my senses breathe a foreign heaven
Or my soul worships a pagan god?
Is my bread less than manna because he does not share it?
Marriage is a womb where two do not always
Survive.
What makes one love another when their spindle
Spin opposite?
Is it the heart knows something the
Head can only fathom in theory and the
Soul pristinely comprehends, like God?
‘Verily I say, love one another as I have loved you…’
Like one plus one
But it does not always equal two…
There is bountiful moonlight bouncing off the
Pink begonias in the blue pot
And the breeze, soft, like an Irish tune…
Do my senses breathe a foreign heaven
Or my soul worships a pagan god?
Is my bread less than manna because he does not share it?
Marriage is a womb where two do not always
Survive.
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