Category: Writings

The Plural of

lindastudleyLeave a comment

Add an s and you should be done
but that wouldn’t be any fun.
If singular window is windows when plural
it follows that house is houses, surely,
but put a mouse inside that house
and soon you’ll have a lot of mouses.
They’ll spread and soon there will be mice
living in all your neighbours’ hice.

If the plural of tooth is teeth
then it only seems right to me,
that though  I smooth the path for others
and they may smooth the path for me,
if we smoothed paths together
we’d have to say “we smeethed”.

Like a child in the wild
or children in the wildren
tedium for one medium
is tedia for two media.

And if someone decides to lay down and die
would two people then lie down and dice?

I think perhaps I’ve lost my focus
and wandered into hocus pocus.
If you did too, then we lost our foci
and wandered into hoci poci.

Red Handed

lindastudley2 Comments

We caught the day red handed in
sun warm berries
winkled from shady green.
Tiny, achingly sweet first fruit,
a wild promise mounded
in summer starved hands.

Not enough for strawberry jam, we  stand
and count to three and laugh as we
cram our mouths full.

Eyes closed, we grin and
groan with ecstasy,
red juice and memories
trickling down our faces.
We caught the day,
red handed.

Frozen Heart – (song lyric)

lindastudley4 Comments

I thought you might be interested in another form of ‘poetry’ that I write – song lyrics. If you click on this link (it’s the fifth song down) you can scroll down and hear the song being performed (from my CD “Breathe”)

 

There’s a chill in the room

I put another log on the fire

But I know that the flames are never gonna burn much higher.

There’s a chill in the room

No need to wonder where it starts

It’s a cold wind blowin’ over my frozen heart.

 

The ice – began to form – – years ago

Like a glacier creepin’ through the snow

The ice age came then rumbled on

Freezing my heart like a mastodon

Now I’m ancient hist’ry, me and my frozen heart

This I Understand

lindastudley9 Comments

The world rushes by
every crisis jockeying
for my attention.

The clock claps its hands
to get my attention and
scoot me out the door.

Everyone has plans
that require my presence
except for the moose.

Outside my window
a moose browses willow buds.
This I understand.

 

the moose

The Chip off the Old Block

lindastudleyLeave a comment

You may think you’re a star, you may think you’re a freak
You might believe that you’re special and unique
But there’s a chip off the old block sitting on your shoulder
and you’ll act like your parents when you get a little older

Get a grip on your load
there’s a dip in the road
O’er which you’ll probably
trip in the road

There are roads to the left, there are roads to the right
and choosing which to follow can really be a fright
and the chip off the old block sitting on your shoulder
may be all that keeps you level when you get a little older

Get a grip on your load
there’s a dip in the road
O’er which you’ll probably
trip in the road

And one day when you sing this little ditty to the kiddies
Don’t try to give advice, don’t bother with forbidding
and the chip off the old block sitting on their shoulders
will keep their feet on the ground when they get a little older.

Her Joy

lindastudley4 Comments

Her joy will eventually  emerge
like a single blade of grass slicing
through slowly melting snow.

Winter’s frost patterns adorn  memories
of fond summers and soft falls
but her joy is starting to emerge.

Like velvet pussy willows bravely standing
in a pool of spring sunshine,
back to the wind, she emerges.

Strong, serene, one with the world,
at peace within her skin,
she emerges. Her joy emerges.

The Coat

lindastudley2 Comments

Some days I wear a coat of wet blankets.
It becomes me,
with its heavy, sweeping hem
damply swirling the world
into chaos as I pass.
It becomes me,
with its drooping shoulders draped
in a  moist muffler,
dripping paindrops from its tassels.
It becomes me,
with a strange, soggy, sincerity,
it becomes me.
And I know if I don’t take it off soon
I’ll become it.

Cover Art

lindastudley8 Comments

falling Awake midsized

Well, I’ve edited the book, proofed the book, formatted the book, named the book (“Falling Awake and other poems” in case you missed that post), now the cover design…

I’m leaning towards one of my own paintings as a cover. I created/designed my CD covers for my first two CDs so it’s not unprecedented.  I’ve uploaded a copy of the proposed cover art and would appreciate any input, just as I have appreciated the input you’ve given me on the poems.

Thank you for coming along with me on this journey!