Poems for April 7 & 8

Ack! I didn't write a poem yesterday! I fell asleep on the futon last night watching "Sherlock Holmes" with a belly full of wild mushroom enchiladas and tres leches from Limones (hurray for tax refunds!). So, I owe two now. Guess I'd better get cracking.

The asparagus
crowns, long and wild like witch hair,
green magic inside.


Okay. There's one. Now, there's this other I wrote in my head and forgot. Let's see if I can find it...


When the rain started
after lunch, the whole world
inside this house

went to sleep
like nursing babies
in the hypnotic blue.

But the world outside
our walls split open
with a rush of color:

lime, young melon, jade,
seawater, spearmint, emerald,
the brilliance of moss.

April is a drug
that both heals us
and makes us high.

Poem for April 6

Long and convoluted by very awesome spring day. Veda and I went to a park, played in a creek, screamed a bit, tried to nap but couldn't, ate some pumpkin seeds and danced to an African drummer in the GreenLife parking lot. Then we came home and while Papa Bear worked on building some raised beds in the backyard, we grilled some tofu, tossed some salad, mixed up some wicked dressing, washed some dishes, fussed a little bit and ate some supper. Now it is time to sleep....

And thus, from nowhere in particular shoots this verse....


Thanks

Tonight it is beans again
and rice, and maybe some carrots
if they're cheap.

The spring breeze floats
through the ripped screen,
The bluegrass ripples

Past me from the half-broken
Boombox I've considered
throwing away, but am too lazy.

Though I long for sushi,
I know we are blessed
with this simple meal because
I remember

The man in Yang Shuo
with no legs, who shared
jokes with us as he begged.

And the father in Hanoi
with the melted face
and torso from the napalm

who tried to smile when we
gave him a coin, but couldn't,
so his toothless wife did for him.

And those babies in the Mosquitia,
playing in the sun, under palms,

with ribs like my daughter's plastic
xylophone,
sleeping under a roof of cardboard.

We, the blessed, we have these gifts:
The wind, and our roof, and our forgetfuless --
And those who share them with us.

We are blessed.

Poem for April 5

From a fun day of working compost into the garden with Veda:

Pretty, she babbles
As she strokes the pink ribbon
Of wiggling earthworm.

Poem for April 4

I am tired. I do not want to write a poem. Which seems like a good argument for not doing this Month of Poetry crap. I mean, what's the point of writing poetry (supposedly a leisure activity for me) when I just want to go to bed and not write ANYTHING?

The fact that tomorrow is my deadline with the paper and I just spent several hours turning verbose press releases into banal but concise news briefs, could quite possibly be the reason for my rebellion. My brain is quite sick of words at the moment.

But here we go...


The community tiller broke
And needing to break up
The squash bed
I swung a wooden-handled
Hoe high into the clear sky
Then down again in a hard
Swoosh, over and over
into the relentless

Earth, a space
The size of two SUV's or
A swimming pool --
Not so big.

And the ground
Did relent little by little,
And I felt for a time
Jubilation,

And then I felt
A grain or two of the truth
Of the life of the women
Of this world
Who have no choice
But to beat life

For themselves
And their babies
Out of the dirt
Day after day
After sweaty day.

Poem for April 3

Well, I'm running close to deadline here, but hey...that's my style. So, I have absolutely NO idea what I'm going to put down in the next few minutes. Impromptu poem-craft...let us see what unfolds...


POEM FOR APRIL 3

Finding the hostas
shooting sunbound
like rockets from their
forgotten bed
in the cold shade
of the wall makes me lose
for a moment the angry
ant of worry that will not
give up the trail.

April 2 - DAY TWO - POEM #2

Well, today was a hard one to squeeze in. And only the second day of the month...oh no! Granted, today was WAY busier than usual. Very much not the normal routine. Birch got out of school at noon, we dyed Easter eggs and had an egg hunt, then I drove the 3-hour round trip to drop him off at his dad's for the holiday...THEN I came home and Scott and Veda and I went out to Highland Brewery for an hour of beer and games and barbecue.

So now I'm back, and this is the poem that has emerged from this day. Actually, it comes directly from my trip to drop Birch off with his dad, who was cleaning out out the last of his things from what used to be our old home...the place where Birch was nearly born and where he lived most of his young life.

And so here you have it...day two and already resorting to the brevity of haiku to fulfill my commitment. Ah, well...one does what one can.

Here it is:

Indian Creek laughs
remembering that lost spring
one decade ago.

a poem a day

Happy April Fools! I sorta hate April Fools Day. I'm not good at practical jokes and I often am a big wet blanket when people play them on me, so I'm celebrating this day with...POETRY! Yay!

My whole life, ever since I could pick up a fat pencil and scribble a word, I have thought of myself as a poet. But lately it seems I don't write anymore. I could blame it on having toddler and a 10-year old to chase, but even when my son was small I wrote a lot of poetry. I think now that I write for a living, I spend my creative energy on other activities like sewing and painting and felting.

But with the entrance of this much-needed and very vibrant spring weather, I have made a vow to renew my love of writing verse. I declare that each day for the month of April 2010, I will write one poem and publish it here.

They may not all be good. In fact, all of them may completely suck. And a lot of them will probably be haiku...or else very short...because there are days I'm lucky if I can get a shower and dress myself in between taking care of everyone else. BUT I will write.

So...here we go!

POEM FOR APRIL 1

Getting Her Down

You are my sunshine, he hums
To her in his dark, rhythmic
Orbit of the bedroom.

Each night he shuffles
This path, holding her slumped
Sweetness against his beating heart,

Rocking and loving the daylight
And restlessness from her bones.
She breathes lighter

And flutters finally to sleep
As he sends again his mantra
To the listening Universe:

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.