I remember clay

I used to the rub the cloth of my pajamas to help me fall asleep.

I used to rub the indentations of old chicken pox scars until they bled.

He ridiculed my attempt so I left the odd, yellow, innocent replica of a buffalo skull or so I thought.

Sainted Women

fragile folds in robes
immortally marbled
by ancient sculptors

Worthy

We were thrown from a train,
miraculously freed from a careless conductor.
I escaped unharmed while she lay wounded by the tracks.
I closed my eyes, repelled by the gashes on her hands and feet.
Blindly, I held her and cried for help.

A physician arrived,
strangely enough, on a stretcher.
His form flickered like a flame.
The wounded woman, herself, flickered in my arms.
Ministering to the woman, the physician and I,
I held her hand while he washed her feet.

She glistened as a shining pearl ring
appeared on her finger.
We looked with love into each other.

When Dreams Become Reality

I am travelling to my 30th high school reunion this weekend. Saturday night, we will gather to share our reflections. I am not sure what this will all entail, but I wrote this poem in honor of what we shared together in 1977.
The grad theme that year was Roads Beyond Our Own. I was not in favor of this choice at the time. I preferred the one in the title of this poem, but as you will read, both are signicant in this present.



When Dreams Become Reality

The person beside
the person behind
the person beyond
were writing languidly in class.

The Lit teacher desired relevancy to our words
so we doodled the dreamy margins
of the final journal pages of June
with corsages and boutonnieres.

Time enough to hope in black and white
before roads grow gnarled
with passion, luck and life.
The paths bent around the corner, unrevealed

until now. With eager faces,
we travel down opened notebooks,
fulfilling the theme of long ago
of seeking roads beyond our own.

Mothers and Guilt

She said I would receive her wedding ring
I protested
for I didn’t want to think of her dying
or of taking fidelity off her finger

So soon,
we were dividing the possessions
My sisters stated,
she wanted you to have the ring
I protested again

She was buried with it sparkling
but now every time rings are mentioned
I cringe and remember
I didn’t listen to her

Castles and Lairs

Fingers flicker
imitating dragons leaping
from page to page
casting fire and chivalry
over dew dropped fairy tales

Dragon Girl by Caroline Young

A Visit to Tara

in disarray,
your heart throbs
for tranquil kind thoughts

but stocking magazine mansions
with Chinese porcelains
and marble Athenas
will not satisfy
tomorrow

Talisman

That is me
hanging from the rear view mirror
Balancing Feather

A stranger asks
"how are you?"
I shake, smile
and answer
good
she smiles,
"me too"

Balancing Feather
falling from the rear view mirror

During service
He asks “Are you okay?”
he knows the signs
how I hunch forward off the back of the pew
fingers tapping
He asks,” Are you okay?”
No, I might have to go to the back
he makes a little space for me to pass
I hesitate then make my move
during the hymn
taking my briefcase, I head for the back
sometimes
I feel safer
with no one behind me
no one watching as I struggle for air

“I am Safe”
the unbalanced feather falls to the floor of the van

Driving home
someone follows
to make sure I arrive home safely
I watch her in the rearview mirror

I pick up the fallen feather
reinsert it
on the mirror.

After Her Kind

Chatterers fly overhead
calling others to turn their eyes
upward to see their sky dances.
They promise, with no certainty.

These babblers search me with puzzled crests,
casually analyzing for entertainment.
Evading their curiosity,
I imagine a clever few

who sit upon flower boxes
with their backs to the crowd.
They notice me disappearing
from the multitude.

Flowers in their hands,
they pace impressions before approaching
the silent screamer.
Then we fade away in secrets.

Sweet Nothings

She married today.
I saw golden rings rotating around the Sun.
Startled children with opal eyes and stifled cries
tossed rose petals under her feet.

Well wishers uniformly gathered
in party dresses, suits and ties
hovered stunningly beneath her ivory wings,
reminders of their own sweet presence.

The Bride descended slowly
through the spiralling space of orchids
to the Groom who eagerly awaited
to see his image in the mirror of her eye.

(What I find amazing is when I find a photo that
so aptly illustrates a poem I wrote.
To see more, go to Friedericy Dolls)

Unexpectedly

White cotton and pink lace

adorn the heroine

for another classic midnight fall

down spiral stairs.

Unexpectedly, she twists

and a backward gaze reveals

a robe sash caught on the rail.

In astonishment, she smiles.

Cranking It Out

Ever since forever,
I said to the jumping jack,
dangling from a box
in the middle of a stage,
"Don't be a showoff!

Minimize your words, s.o.
refrain those sunny aspirations
and if
you do well
and are well
Keep it yourself, sunbeams can't play forever!"


Now listen to the response to the person in the back row
"When the melody ends, I will jump and be glad for I have done well. I am well"

A Discussion

No glossy cherried lips or fur lined eyes
to hide myself behind
only bleeding dripping truth
from the corner of your mouth
"judgements and jealousies" the verdict

When I stretch my hand out to you,
you notice the tremors
but sitting back, relaxed,
the shaking remains hidden.

Should my words have remained in the chair?

"Be yourself", his smile announces
that my "judgements and jealousies" are now forgotten.
"Be yourself but that doesn't necessarily mean popularity"

oh-the sidestep

"Return to who you are."

Return to the spark of life
that encircled my heart from the beginning.

I do believe, ultimately, in solutions

Basalt Flows From my Belly

gurgling upwards
fearfully volcanic

waiting
for lava
to spew molten splinters

instead
a quiet eruption
shields the spectator

Offerings

She flitters by
in blue transparency,
casting her liberality
to the crowd of gods
that wrestle at her feet

Love me , she whispers and they kneel,
Then
play my way
and we will get along
and the crowd says, Amen

and she turns to me, who refuses to bend

I Love That Person

Gritting
and eyes rolling over her back
she strikes at the dirt beneath her swollen belly
"If only I was thinner, then all would be
better"
she doesn't notice the hands that are outstretched
to catch

Her journal echoes
and I desire to meet her half the way
before the descent,

Mind Her

Bear the spirit up with kindness
and a steady gaze
that will ease the pain in the arch of the eye.

Insistingly
speak the good words
and listen urgently.

Look,
she's waiting
in the mirror.

Dear Mother,

I used to write of the losses of the womb-
you let me leave although I was not ready
You knew that
but you closed your eyes and pushed

Then when I was struggling all alone
you ran to me, holding me with your eyes
I knew you wanted to keep me always
but you closed your eyes and pushed

There is a babe floundering at my feet
I can't let her go yet,
can I ?
I need to hold her with my eyes and feel her in my arms

then she will be ready

"What Fascinates You?"

Su asked

Minds of men
Layered thoughts
Tolstoyed novels inside a pen

You do

Colored pencil drawing by Daphne Odjig

Tree Dance

Trees shake their needles-
and make me wanna get up
and dance in the winter sun


Coming back at ya, Andrew!

Andrew's Haiku: