She notes how the days
have grown shorter.
A cacophony of grackles
near a cornfield fills the air.
A farmer across the road
walks along his field
checking his corn before harvest.
Leaves rustling
in the wind sing.
The construction crew
has passed her driveway.
She asks the flagger to
help her daughter across.
The school bus arrives
late afternoon. Lights flash
She rushes onto the porch
and hugs her daughter
who wears a backpack.
The mother notices
the sky is gold
as she looks out the window
and cooks supper on the stove.
Her daughter sits in a chair
hands folded on her lap.
So good to see her daughter
she thinks after letting go
in the morning and waiting
for a late afternoon embrace.
The babysitter across the hallway
lit a candle during the blackout.
Soft music played in the apartment
I checked on their place
to see the toddler asleep on the couch,
the parents away on a date.
A soft glow shared.
We left our doors open
to keep an eye on each other.
Dusk swept over a line, apartments
at the edge of town. We were left
to the resonance of our silence.
A line of residences
along the street rested
on a Sunday night.
Just beyond a line of trees
a creek took in what the rain had left.
Stars to the west hid somewhere beyond.
You open early morning
to sunlight in a chamber
past the threshold.
I’ve yet to know
what the day may bring
late summer
a calling to live
live again.
The cat roams
the room
after I give it
water and food.
Someone sleeps
in the front room.
I’ve closed you
for now. I must
awaken to what
lies ahead.
The voice of someone
I’ve known calls
then another and another
a chorus of memories—
I’ve never forgotten.
Bedroom door
I’ve closed you
but dreams linger.
The branch still in bloom
waves in the wind
and a sparrow flutters
by the window
and yes
a threshold to embrace
but I can never close
passages to my many lives.
Out in the yellow ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ the bee
Hums ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ Spring,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ sweet notes ¦¦¦¦ the larks ¦¦¦ wing,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ wander ¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ now? or ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ then? for now,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ the larks ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ pour showers:
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ May is on the flowers,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ shadows dance ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
What's this, ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ change
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ the grace
Of heaven ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ earth in ¦¦¦ embrace.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ heart, ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ to feel ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
Look, ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ see
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ the sun's decline:
¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ even in death divine,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
(Blackout of Modern Love XI: Out in the Yellow Meadows by George Meredith)
for Wake Me Up When September Ends Contest
Sponsor: Daniel Henry Rogers
They’re in conversation
with a crisp breeze as it sings
about the summer lost.
The proud sun colors skies gold
but shadows grow long.
not much is said
but they know
something’s changing
Once young, they cling
onto branches but know
one day they will take
their last breath and fall.
a song
about passing days
lingers in the air
Frantic calls of grackles
stir the air as they land
on branches before a swirl
of them cloud the sky.
the cacophony
interrupts
tranquility of the day
the passing sun whispers
and at dusk skies bleed
leaves surrender to time
My bare feet brush the carpet
after I slip out of bed.
Words from an unknown place
resonate in my head.
I grab my car keys
wondering where
the road may lead.
This moment serenity
found in my homestead
time to myself.
Yet I recall my first love
who said it was in my head.
Day whispers
as I rest near a place
where the street ends
but past the ravine
a road with another name
in another time and place.
*off-ghazal form
Just outside Mountain, Wisconsin
the forest lies. It invites me inside
to hear the stories, it longs to tell.
Around a curve a puddle of water
from a fall of rain.
At each turn I never knew
what I would find.
A photo of a bear in the dark
is posted at the gas station.
The clerk said it is deep
within the forest when I
stopped inside for a snack.
No one can say for certain
where the forest ends.
I’m going inside to see
what it reveals. Another level
of secrets lies in undergrowth.
All trees stretch their arms
upward reaching for the sun.
I’m driving around the state
to find my time and place.
Lands once stripped, replanted
in a public works project
during the Great Depression
to give the land new life.
A glance through a crown
shows the sun as it shines on me.
Each morning asks me to start again
after I step outside the motel.
The Pensive Poet Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom
Soren Kirkegaard
I ignore the voice of someone
shouting at the television
in the living room.
His voice grates.
My hand jitters as I open
the laptop. A blank page waits
and there’s just an hour before
I must go to work.
I desire to pull lines
from the air and let
them breathe.
I take a deep breath
And sigh. There’s so little time—
I recall time lost when scurrying
through life/ Again something
tugs at my sleeve, demanding
attention. I ask for a moment.
Clouds drift through the sky
before the storm, the thunderclap
but I always wait for silence.
My worn T-shirt bears
the times that passed.
Good enough for now
I say to myself.
Sun through window
a promise
of what I don’t know.
When I take a drive
the river at my side speaks
and I let the highway
take it where it wants.
Soft conversations
I embrace as once again
my life unfolds.
Once again, I hear
the voice of someone I loved
coming back to me
in a moment of solitude.
I bought the T-shirt
on a journey out of town.
Now a sleeve has a hole
but I keep it for another day.
I sat under a tree somewhere in Nebraska
after a late-night drive in a storm to here
my assignment. Nestled in the sandhills
the morning whispered. In silence I stayed
by a lake where a drive ended. The sun
reflected off a pond, my reflections
to begin the day. Trees and grasses sprouted
from sand fed by underground streams.
A soft breeze whispered, too. I closed
my eyes. Serenity. Pioneers had given their lives
to discover this land. It was mine for now.
I discovered the land for myself. A white cabin
near me was quiet, whether abandoned or not
it didn’t matter. I embraced the silence. Lost
in time. I felt in my mind a new poem form
the words I longed to share when I’d get
back home. Lines broke and found new lines.
Stanzas white spaces moments of silence
always said more than I could say as I gazed
at clouds drifting through open skies. A poem
or two I could take home with me on the long drive.
I had to admit I never knew what I would find.
I’m channeling this morning
unsure of what words will come.
Brilliant? I realize the poem
laid before me needs work.
Sunlight through window
brings another day. I let it speak.
The television in another room drones.
Background sounds rustle
and I set them aside
although they are a part of my life.
Two cats rush under my chair
then they’re gone. I laugh
this life, this poem is not my own.
I struggle to squeeze in time
to write before going to work.
This is how I seek my peace
discovering what words find
their way to paper.
every breath
[taken in]
clouds in the sky
Forest fires in Canada
leave a haze in Iowa
and I can’t help but think
of how they have consumed
the land.
As I go for a Sunday drive
a wall cloud of smoke
in the sky before me
hides the sun
but the river
is at my side
rippling reflections
of sky.
A voice inside says
we must embrace
before it's lost
as I count the miles.
I round a curve
and for a moment I see
the face of someone
I loved as she smiled,
a memory unveiled.
Yet I know
fires are burning
out west
a story played out
every year.
I look into my self
and feel assured
as the sun emerges
and opens the skies.
for every charred trunk
that falls a seed
left in its wake
after night
morning write
early sun
day begun
new breath taken
I awaken
words dance on page
I awaken
new breath taken
day begun
early sun
morning write
after night
*footle palindrome form
I opened a sliding glass door
and watched the Wolf River
as in shadows it flowed
behind the motel room.
The television was turned off
my co-worker in bed.
I gazed outside and wondered
What life lingered outside
in the deep, dark night.
A lamp filled the room with a soft glow.
I pulled a book from my suitcase
and read. A long workday lay ahead
but such wonder was found
as we worked in The Great North Woods.
A sign was posted over the bathroom sink
a warning of high nitrate levels,
mostly meant for pregnant women,
but the motel owner said I was safe.
Earlier in the night I was drinking
hot chocolate in a cozy lobby
and reading pamphlets of folklore
about the woods. One article told
how you could safely fell a tree.
The door to the owner’s quarters
was open for conversation.
Such serenity taken in—
this was my home for the week.
upon my waking
rays of light through window
fall and spread
upon worn carpet
scattered papers
wait to be picked up
stories told
boxes stacked in corner
memories of a past life
the restless housecat
wandering through a jungle
I live another day
wandering through a jungle
the restless housecat
memoires of a past life
boxes stacked in a corner
stories told
wait to be picked up
scattered papers
upon worn carpet
fall and spread
rays of light through window
upon my waking
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