I
Wild roses still bloom
even when I close my eyes.
Petals do not wait.
II
I still hear my heart
even when I plug my ears.
I sense the beating.
III
Past breezes still play
through forgotten memories
waiting to be felt.
#187
Category: A New Poem Every Morning
Three Haiku for Aja
Old friends meet and smile
and time is as it once was,
all said in a nod.
Is the wine sweeter
or conversation deeper
because it has past?
Satisfaction lives
in doing what is needful
with joy in your heart.
#186
Bloodlust
She stalks me in the darkness,
hungry, scenting blood,
driven on by madness
for a salty scarlet drug.
‘Just a taste’ she whines
‘a little, love bite, kiss
Just a tiny drop,
one you’ll never miss.’
Asleep, I never feel
the vampyric villain feed,
never feel her drool
as the wound begins to bleed.
Sated now she rises
the selfish, whining bitch.
Tomorrow I’ll remember this
when I start itch.
#185
Song of the Tree
If
I
was
a
tree
I’d
hold out
my
branches in
the
wind that moves
the
clouds around and I’d
feel
it in my needles and cones and
let
it sift through my swaying limbs singing
all
the
way
to my roots and vibrating
the earth with its song
of life of joy of the music
of the spheres as they spin.
#184
Meanwhile
While out exploring a possibility
a doubt moved in and
unpacked her baggage, dropping
hints everywhere and lying
in bed till noon, demanding my
constant attention.
While entertaining a doubt
a fear climbed in through my open window
of opportunity, stole my silver
linings, then slipped away again
slamming the window behind him.
While experiencing a fear
a possibility coalesced, gray
matter over minding, a ghost
of a chance for one more
voyage of exploration.
#183
Sorry for the lateness of posting this! I was out of range of the inter tubes for most of the day. You’ll have to take my word for it, I wrote it first thing this morning! However – Poem a Day – so I’m still on schedule! only 183 more to go!
A Darker Side of Flowers
The flowers started to die long ago,
back when they were picked. Their brilliant
perky smiles belie their terminal condition and,
good intentions aside, we become palliative care.
We arrange them in a vase in the sunshine, keep
their water topped up, and gradually
pull out the drooping, spent blossoms,
move them into smaller and smaller vases,
trim and re-trim their stems
until the last bloom
fades, slumps and dies.
“Flowers for me?
Thank you how lovely. I’ll get a vase.”
#182
Not a Poem – Milestones – Halfway there on Sunday!
As I sneak up on the halfway point of my “Poem a Day for a Year” project I can see several things I’ve gained from the exercise that I didn’t foresee. Some of the readers have enjoyed my poems on a deep personal level. I’ve had one turned into a performance piece (with drums!). I’ve met and chatted with people from around the world and found that we are truly more alike than we are different, at least in the important things. I’ve discovered that I can commit to a regime if it’s important to me (so apparently all those diets and exercise programs just weren’t important enough! lol). I’ve discovered lots of other poets out there, trying, like I am, to make sense of the world through their poetry. And more personally, I have found that the ability to chanel thoughts and dreams and desires into poetry on a regular basis has given me deeper insights into my own path in life. I have found vindication for my assertion that “the poem is already written, I just have to remember it” as some of the mornings that seemed so rushed and creatively dry turned into some of my (in my humble opinion) best work as soon as I stopped trying so hard.
On Sunday, June 24th, I will reach the halfway point in the year of poetry. I hope you will stop by and comment on one or more of the 183 poems and say hi! Kind of like a party or an open house… I think it would be very cool to try and set a record number of visits for that day! And thank you all for visiting and participating in “A Poem a Day for a Year”.
Sincerely
Linda Studley aka ‘The Poet at the Bottom of the Well”
Sun Slants
Sun slants its rays past
vertical blinds in shadows
of bars on my wall.
Sun slants its rays through
prisms and showers rainbows
of light on my face.
Sun slants its rays midst
branches and leaves, dappling
patterns on my skin.
#181
Adages Aside
The shade of green the grass grows in might be different but
when I lived in the country traffic noise would wake me up,
and now, on auction day in town, the cattle bawl and fuss.
I guess the fence that lies between is not sound proof enough.
‘Dozen’ didn’t take much harm from metric-a-fi-cation,
‘half a dozen’ still gets used without much hesitation,
but whereas half a dozen city hours can be vexation
six hours in the country can be just like a vacation.
I think it should be possible to have and eat my cake,
‘cause adages aside, it’s not that hard a choice to make
of what to do and where to live and how to chose my fate
I only wish my creditors felt the same for Heaven’s sake.
##180
Live Again
What good is sunshine in a windowless room?
How do you know if it’s raining outside?
What good is wrangling over maybes and coulds?
How do you know if there’s truth in the lies?
But one day the sun’s gonna work its way
through roof and wall and light it all
and the rain will wash it away.
What good are windows if they just face a wall?
How do the trees find a place they can play?
What good is staring at the same set of facts?
How many bricks are in a day?
And one day the trees are gonna eat their way
through roof and wall and turn it all
into molehill mountains once again.
What good, How do you do what you do
when you know that nothing’s ever gonna change on it’s own.
How do, what good is waiting for the rain,
and the sun, and the trees, because all of these
are waiting for you too.
Climb a tree, touch the rain
feel the sun on your face
and never wait to live again.
#179
Linda Studley 