Baltimore Album
Hand appliqued, hand quilted
Legacy of love.
Testament to skill.
Tribute to perseverance.
Homage to patience.
A source of comfort
beyond words or memories,
soft beneath my hand.
#36
Category: A New Poem Every Morning #2
Opening Doors
Opening doors is a risky business.
A certain amount of reflection is required
before throwing open doors and
dashing through them.
Cats know this.
That’s why they linger at open doors,
with last minute thoughts,
pondering the wisdom of crossing
thresholds.
#35
After the Fire
After the fire there were pools
of aluminum, puddles and runnels
of molten metal had hardened
where they ran.
Like all who follow the path of least resistance,
they got nowhere.
They became featureless blobs,
most looking like lower intestines
or scat from some
diarrheic metal animal.
Just more things to trip over.
But then I found one,
an ingot, a delicate pendant,
a diamond in the rough.
a small cabochon, slightly askew,
but with twin aspen trees growing
from the top.
Slender, leafy, powdery gray.
So I took it home,
contemplated its essence,
pondered on its trials,
and gave it some respect.
The way we should treat all those
who have dealt with the fire
and come out transformed.
Something beautiful.
#34
The Power of Strings
I wrote this poem in ‘concrete’ form and, of course, the blog won’t let me use my formatting. So I’ve saved it as a picture and posted it below.
I’ll try to save it to a higher resolution on my other computer but wanted to get it onto the blog – after all – it is ‘poem a day’ !
#33
Fate
I’ve been wondering of late
why I try to change my fate
when I can never know or see
what my fate will really be.
If I don’t really know for certain
who or what’s behind the curtain
how can I know the default or
if my future has been altered
or if I’m naively treading
the very path that I’ve been dreading
towards the fate that was laid out
before I started on about
embracing change, chasing dreams.
or switching horses in mid-stream.
If all my paths lead back to me,
I make my own reality.
#31
Earworm
Earworm, Earworm,
measuring my sanity.
You and your repeating tune
are going to drive me mad.
Earworm, Earworm,
measuring my sanity
This is the result, it seems,
when melodies go bad.
#30
Remembrance
Sun falls through the trees
raven shadows call to me,
flicker ‘cross my face.
I will hold this day;
The smell of the forest floor,
soft wind on my face,
rough bark ‘neath my hand.
The tang of wild raspberry
lingers on my tongue.
I will hold this day.
Take it out and set it free
some cold winter’s night.
#29
Answers
Believe in answers
and they will follow you home
and call you by name.
Your only problem
will be sorting them out and
choosing the right one.
#28
The Road to Somewhere
The road to Nowhere
is paved with good intentions
Not Hell, but Nowhere.
Nowhere is a spot
on the side of the road where
hope ran out of gas.
Don’t blame intentions,
they’re only a starting point.
Next time bring a map.
Bring along a friend.
Travel roads paved with laughter;
they lead to Somewhere.
#27
Han Shan Conundrum – Part 1
Even though I didn’t see
my poem hanging from a tree
The Han Shan poetry project saved
a rainforest from the ‘dozer blade.
Now I have a choice to make
Should I agree to let them take
my poem and hang it up again?
I must consult my poet friends
and speak of poetry and of ethics
to see if I can gain perspective
on conflicting thoughts and issues.
Stay tuned readers, to be continued…
#25
Linda Studley 