The world is not as we see it.
There are undercurrents.
There are things that happen
behind closed doors
in closed minds.
Like separate planes of existence,
many worlds can be real, but not visible.
Worlds where you can see but not touch.
Where you’re never alone and always lonely.
Where you’re home yet homesick.
Where no one can hear you cry.
And one day the light goes on and
the phase shifts and suddenly
someone sees you.
“If only I’d known” they say.
“If only I’d known.”
#327
There is a voice inside my head that I tend to ignore
that whispers perhaps this is not what I was put here for.
Most times I can drown it out with boring tedium,
or do some mental calisthenics. Sometimes I just hum.
But now and then a shred of doubt gets caught upon the edge
of my perspective, takes my hand, and leads me to the ledge
and shows me things I can’t recall and tells me they can be
all mine for the taking without even asking please.
But all I really want to do is just fall back asleep.
Lay me down and close my eyes and pray my soul to keep.
#326
Numbers bother me.
Simple ones not so much but
ones that hide their true identity behind letters,
x and y and all that, they
bother me.
Who do these shifty figures with secret
identities they think they are, super heroes,
carrying their power on their shoulders, numbers
to the power of other numbers.
And why must we always solve for x?
I think it’s time x learned to be a little less cryptic.
Now the price of tea I understand and I
mentally add up my grocery bill so I’m not dangerously
startled at the checkout counter, but
algebra confounds me
It sounds like a terrorist sect
doesn’t it? Al Jibra…
I love letters.
I love their clean, intelligent ability
to explain something with perfect clarity.
I love their infinite flexibility,
their magical ability to assemble into words, at once
familiar, yet with nuance and inference wide open
to interpretation.
I guess I’ve always thought of numbers as the poor
cousins of letters, useful, but not very bright.
#325
Why isn’t the word palindrome spelled
the same backwards as it is forwards?
Why isn’t the word ‘lisp’ spelled ‘lithp’?
If synonym means same
and antonym means opposite
are syns the opposite of ants?
Do the ants know about this?
Or is it ‘sins’ and ‘aunts’?
As if no aunt ever had less than virtuous intentions.
Oh dear, the squirrels are loose in my brain again
and they’ve been drinking coffee and reading
grammar textbooks.
They are looking up the definition of assonance
and giggling.
#324
He never talked about the war.
He had scars
but some didn’t show on the outside.
He wore a poppy
but never went to the Legion.
He had medals that he was proud of
but he never displayed them.
I remember taking them to Show and Tell in grade one.
He never talked about the war.
But even as a child I knew
it followed him like a shadow
so he faced the light of love
and family and community and
kept the shadow behind him.
We put a poppy on his coffin.
#323
There are more stores where you can find
finished products on the shelf
than ones where you can buy
stuff to make those things yourself.
The simple things, the canning rings
the denim by the bolt
the basic stuff’s replaced by fluff
I’d like to revolt
but apparently it’s convenient
to buy things ready made
so we can spend more time
sitting in the shade
of our television screen
that often pauses to dispense
directions to where we can go
to buy more convenience.
Enough convenience already!
I think it’s time to take
back our right to take our time
over things we want to make.
And begin to see the difference
between convenience and traps
that make us buy things several times
because they’re built of crap.
That makes us eat what’s easy
instead of what is good,
instead of understanding what
is in and on our food.
Fast to slow, junk to gem
and maybe we won’t need
the shrinks and gyms and supplements
that seem to sprout like weeds
To take advantage of the fools
that we’ve all become
because we just can’t take the time
to do the things that should be done.
Convenience be damned, it’s time to do
the things that should be done.
#322
Write my name on water.
Write my name in dust.
Write my name on iron
and watch it turn to rust.
Let my words go free.
Let them have their say.
Write them on the wind
and let them blow away.
Write my name upon the wind
and let it blow away.
#321
A goal is a special place
plotted on a personal map
and it probably isn’t wise
to just leave it to an app
to plot a course to guide you
to non-physical destinations
because personal topography
is subject to fluctuation
and GPS isn’t always
on top of all the ruts
that litter our personal pathways
the if, and whys and buts.
And so it seems, as always,
that the only real chance
of reaching goals is flying by
the seat of one’s own pants.
#320
The wrapped gift we shake.
The cherished crust we hold in our mind.
eyes closed, breath held,
while the festival passes us by, unnoticed.
#319
Ice crackles and pops
‘neath the tires of the car.
Nature’s bubble wrap.
#318
Linda Studley 