Rhymed and unrhymed, form or free, this is where the poetry lives.
“I love a mystery” she says
then delves into the mystery with the sole
intent of unravelling it.
“I love the view” he says
then builds a house with a big window facing the view
so he can pull the curtains.
“I love you just the way you are” they say
then point out reasons that way is wrong and how
you should change.
Beware of sentences starting with I love.
#74
Once upon a million years ago or maybe more
some of us climbed dripping from the ocean to the shore.
Some of us breathed in the air and stood on new fledged limbs
and turned our backs upon the home where we once used to swim.
And some of us remember still the ebb and flow and tide
of our ancestral home where our siblings still abide.
Some go back to the water, some stay away in fear,
but all of us have memories of the sea that salt our tears.
#73
She dreams of half squeezed tubes of oils,
the scent of turpentine, and the loose, paint smudged shirt
draping her body.
She dreams of the vacant stare of the canvas,
waiting on the easel, the perfect light slanting, and
the thumbnails scattered on the speckled table.
She dreams of the handthrown pot, bristling with brushes,
the pallet knives, the rags and scraps of yesterday’s news,
like leaves waiting to turn and fall.
She dreams of the pallet perched on her arm like a hawk, fierce
and unafraid, raises the loaded brush, takes a deep breath,
then wakes up and goes to the office again.
#72
Know, believe
Feel , perceive
These are only starting points,
useless without action.
Guilt, sympathy,
compassion, empathy.
These are only starting points,
Useless without action
Do, change, speak
help, try, seek.
These are actions.
This is where it starts.
#71
The younger you are
the more future you anticipate.
Glory days all waiting in
treasure chests and you hold the key,
like a queen in your garden of dreams.
Some days my head hurts with dreams.
I am overwhelmed by who I might become.
Glory days are forever in a moment
a moment in forever.
The older you get
the more past you accumulate.
Glory days all locked in
individual cells and you hold the key,
like a warden in your prison of memories.
Some days my head hurts with memories.
I am overwhelmed by who I have been.
#70
Fatal moth went flying,
flying through the night,
nightly through the dark,
darkly t’wards the light.
Light pulled like a magnet,
magnetic north, it called,
called the blind to follow,
follow, one and all.
All the moths flew vainly,
vainly t’wards the moon,
mooning for her touch,
touched since the cocoon.
Cocooning through the day,
daily grey moths sleep,
sleep until the moon rise,
rises them to fleet.
Fleet from grey bark nest,
nestled in the brush,
brush dust from their wings
in the frantic rush.
Rush to this new light,
alight on candle’s flame,
flame dancer writhe and fall,
fall and end the game.
#69
This could be the day
when the words run away
and the poetry gets ugly ‘cause
there’s nothing left to say.
So I’ll try to keep it short
and I’ll try to keep it sweet
but I can’t make any promises
I’m not equipped to keep.
I didn’t promise gems
I only promised poems
and sometimes though the lights are on
there’s really no one home.
In the top of my dome.
#68
I’m thinking of a number.
do you know what it is?
A number between make believe and make-up,
between three and twentyone,
between toys and poise.
Sweet petulance
confused enlightenment
contradicting certainty that only wants
to be left alone
at the centre of the Universe.
Do you know the number?
Have you been the number?
Fourteen.
#67
for my sweet, sophisticated fourteen year old granddaughter
Dear Universe,
I have a few things I’d like to discuss with you…
1. At what point did it seem like a good idea to sabotage my knees so any attempt at a regular exercise regime was doomed to failure?
2. When did you decide to relocate the hair from the top of my husband’s head to my chin?
3. This law of gravity thing, I pride myself on being law abiding, but I really think that some things should be exempt; at least two that I can think of offhand.
4. I’m pretty sure you knew I was going to live this long so why arrange things so the warrantees expire just when I was getting the hang of it?
In short, Universe, I don’t particularly enjoy your sense of humour but in the absence of any other Universes to choose from, you seem to have a mortal lock on the monopoly. So, I will continue to inhabit you but only under duress.
Sincerely
The Writer at the Bottom of the Well
“This is an automated out of office reply. Thank you for your letter to the Universe. I will be on vacation and away from the office for the next millennia. Your message is important to us and will be answered, in the order in which it was received, as soon as I return. Thank you”
#64
I need to be that other me for a while, the me who smiles wide and thinks large and stands in the middle of the page, not in the margin. The me who dusts off yesterday’s remains then calls the rains to wash it away and yet I won’t get wet unless I want to, I just walk away, no, the rain can’t touch me unless I say so. That other me is free to think unconventionally, painting my world with thoughts curled around dreams hurled at walls where they spread and glow and pulse and show the way to be this me permanently. I need to be that other me.
#66
Linda Studley 