Music, friends, and wine.
Enduring memories grow
from fleeting moments.
#229
Category: Poetry
Rhymed and unrhymed, form or free, this is where the poetry lives.
Winter Dawn
Dawn peers past cloudy
cataracts with pale blue eyes.
Snowblind; cold comfort.
#228
When?
When you’re gone
I find myself in the uncomfortable company
of my own self far too much.
I miss your symbiotic intelligence,
your unerring ability to catch
what I’m pitching,
scratch when I’m itching,
tolerate, placate
when I’m bitching.
It’s probably good for me to experience
introspection a little
every now and then. When
will you be home?
#227
Time is a Relative
I am a firm believer in time warps.
In folding zones
and involuntary ticks
and talk about relativity…
It’s as clear as the gnomon on your face
that time shifts and passes
dependant upon the momentum of age.
Is the hourglass half full or half empty?
Time must be relative.
That’s the only way my grandbaby
could turn eighteen so soon.
#226
The Garden Revisited
Dream you are in a garden.
Close your eyes and feel the sun tickle sweat from the back of your neck.
Open your mouth and gather the raindrops into your body.
Dig your toes into the soft soil and breathe in its sweetness.
Hear the thrumming of life sing to the beat of your heart.
Dream you are a garden.
#225
Pincushions
Paring down is easy
at first.
Ditching the stuff you never use.
A shrug and a toss
into the give-away box,
the recycle bin,
the trash bag.
But then you come down to it,
the stuff that has a hook in your soul.
Stuff you keep because
someone gave it to you (the lamp),
it reminds you of a good time (the ticket stub),
you really are going to learn
(insert sport, craft, or language here) one day.
Perhaps the first step is to decide
what is important in your life,
what brings joy,
comfort,
fulfillment,
laughter,
wellness,
and just pare away everything that doesn’t.
Like the excess clay from a sculpture of yourself.
Yourself the way you were before the hooks
turned your soul into a pincushion.
#224
Alpha Joy
Finish what you start.
Unless it’s wonderful, then
drag your feet through joy.
#223
Morning
Sunrise through curtains
Backlit jacquard flowers bloom.
My winter garden.
#222
Ode to a Lunky
Square and triangular
snippets of cloth,
may fortune protect you
from tea stains and moths.
The shapes that you tumble
all over my bed
make me think of the stars
that shine overhead.
Sometimes I see arrows
that point to the rims
of long, folded mountains
that form over limbs.
Sometimes I see houses
all scattered around,
(although not quite enough
to declare it a town.)
Sometimes four petalled flowers
appear and then fade,
like violets that wink from
their homes in the shade.
Pretty snippets of cloth,
triangles and squares,
I just know I sleep better
whenever you’re there.
#219
(‘lunky’ is what our youngest used to call blankets)
Redemption Dream
Last night I had a dream that a rapture had occurred
and all the Gods and Deities had swooped down on the world.
They called their loyal followers and took them all away
but Mother Earth said ‘Hold on. I’ve got something to say.”
“What about the evil ones? You’ve gotta take them too.
Send them all to Hell ‘cause the Devil must have his due.”
So with saints and sinners nestled in their eternal homes
the ones the Earth held on to didn’t wail and didn’t moan.
Mother Earth had chosen all the ones who loved her best
She said ‘Hang on, little children, it’s time to clean this mess.
And with a shake she scattered the pollution from her skin;
the filth and the corruption went flying in the wind.
She said “I know you’re capable of doing these things right.
so please keep our home tidy, and for goodness sake don’t fight.
Because if there’s a next time I won’t clean things up for you.
So don’t make me come back there – whatever you do!’
Don’t want to go to Heaven on wings or to Hell on skids.
I just want a world that’s clean that I can leave my kids.
#216
Linda Studley 