She slipped Inside my pillow and began to massage my temples,
I was a tad hungover, so a female ghost
from the distant past was most welcome.
Her fingertips felt as soft and as attentive as ever,
but when the sun came up
and the cold light shattered my eyes,
I forced myself to get out of bed
just to get away from her constant nagging.
....
Nota bene: I sent the pillow back
to Mike Lindell, the ‘My Pillow’ guy.
Categories:
nota bene, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Candva am stiut
exact de cate ori vreau
sau trebuie
sa-mi indoi hartia de impachetat
inainte sa trimit
un colet social.
Pe vremuri, hartia
era atat de importanta,
uneori la fel de importanta ca si continutul,
iar livrarea- momentul-
urmaream sa fie perfecta.
De-alungul anilor
am avut indoituri,
linii, urme, scris frumos si
chiar si rupture. Ce bine ca exista scotch!
Desene, mai rar…
Trecutul meu emotional
tot pe hartie
l-as asterne daca pachetul de azi
nu ar carboniza
insasi mainile care incearca
sa inghesuie Totul si Nimicul
intr-o cutie singulara.
Pentru fiecare intrebare
pe care am sters-o mai mult sau mai putin constient,
pentru fiecare umbra lasata de colturi ,,nota bene”,
pentru fiecare taietura incapatanata
ce-mi forta vindecarea din ore in zile,
pentru toate
vreau sa materializez acum,
inainte sa ma ridic cu picioarele de pe pamant,
un ultimatum:
"Let it burn!"
Categories:
nota bene, how i feel, old,
Form: Free verse
Spring comes
Quietly--
Not with the bleating of lambs or
The tweeting of birds or the
Beating of butterfly wings
Spring comes
Silently--
Celtic through the Neolithic stones,
Unheralded by peering shadow-seekers
Rummaging around on the Second of
February, and unannounced by a
Banner on the front page of the
National Enquirer…
Unpresaged by pregnant April
Showers,
Spring comes--
Alive
Nota bene: This is one of the few pieces of juvenilia I have preserved. It was written when I was at college (the University of Florida), in 1979, when I was in the English Department High Honors Seminar. We had an assignment to write a poem about Spring, but to try not to fall into the usual cliches. I thought it might be fun to mention some of those cliches ironically. We had one-on-one tutorials with a number of well-known novelists and poets; one of mine was with the poet Richard Eberhart. He told me he liked this poem and that it was a good one, so I have kept it these four decades.
Categories:
nota bene, april, mystery, nature, silence,
Form: Free verse
To die
One must be alive
So where am I?
To cry
One must feel loss
No one to miss, empty tears dry
To fly
One must have wings
If only broken I could tumble and be gone
To lie
One must smile to the outside
While stumbling in darkness, wonder why?
To scrape by
One has fold up the heart
Knowing there is no second start
To be the butterfly
I must possess wings of beauty
Before being crushed by heavy winds
To justify
One must choose the rope or the knife
Before hanging on last goodbyes
To note
One must hold the pen with ink
Leaking words with last of drink
Categories:
nota bene, art, loss, philosophy, suicide,
Form: Free verse
and she said
do not broke me
if you are not able
to fix me back
otherwise
you’ll end up with
a broken toy
Categories:
nota bene, break up, depression,
Form: Prose Poetry
How loaded is the word Mother-with dirty diapers, running noses
Late night upchuck, the bedtime stories and *the Diwali delicacies.
Seeing chaos, mess, too much noise, squabbles and broken toys
My mother said at bedtime kiss,” why do you multiply my woes?
We had very tough time – the economic crisis for a short period
Only four loafs of wheat for the five members sometimes we had.
She would promptly announced, she'd already her share of bread
“I was soo……. hungry, I had mine” she would dramatically add.
Though we all knew it, she wouldn't eat alone leaving us behind.
That expression for sometime became her nota bene in her mind.
Some mothers are kissing, some are scolding, & some are the both
However it is love all the same and Mommy, you're both for our growth.
============================================
*Diwali, a festival of lights, the last day of Hindu calendar year like the
New Year eve of the Christian Calendar
March 14, 2014
Form: Rhyme
Dr. Ram Mehta
First Place Win
Contest: Poem for Mommy by Leonara Ghalinta
Categories:
nota bene, mother,
Form: Rhyme
Born January 31, 1953 – Rev. Rebecca Guile Hudson – Died January 30, 2048
HeRe, tell the truth,
liEs The Right Reverend Hudson
reBorn almost a century ago –
thE time was winter,
suCh long, long hours
baCk in cold, cold days
clAndestine rape
SaFety was unim-
poRtant for women
whO were married –
noNe spoke of
suCh
thIngs back
thEn
By God! This woman
refUsed to let that
get In the way of
her Living –
she Excelled at life
AlcHemist,
she Understood her birth
diD not define or restrict
her Self, her choices, her
lOve, her presence, or her death – she
kNew, with certainty: only truth is true!
Nota Bene – January 30, 2048 is the 100th anniversary of Gandhi’s assassination
We Thank All That Is Good She Was Here!
Categories:
nota bene, death, history, hope, life,
Form: Acrostic