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Sonnet for Beginnings

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Through the layered woods stripped bare and grey
All seems quiet, dead from winter’s hold,
Twigs and leaves surrounding, uncajoled
From the season’s somnolescent stay.

Roots dug deep beneath the litter’s loam,
Just as dawn’s sweet kiss gives us the day
And new beginnings interrupt the sway,
Unseen proof of life amid the gloam.

Hearken to the living race we run.
Slow, the light, a penetrating gaze
Drops in parallel inside the maze
Yellow flowers rise, lean to the sun.

Harsh, as winter ends at knotted thread,
Gentle Spring returns, conceals the dead.

Traveling Grace

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If you were to ask me where and when love was born,
whether on a sunny afternoon under a shade tree
in the corner of a familiar room,
or under the eaves of a shelter during pouring rain,

I could not know which place to say.

Though equally the place would not have mattered
as much as the work to consumate the creation,

-how it got there-

and the time it took for every nuanced surface and texture
to be smoothed or grooved by wind and weather;
of touches and locked gazes
focused on the horizon,

a slow exhalation of breath
prepared for that exact moment.

Respite

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In a break from the contra danse,
when the light is new,
at its beginning, just strewn
in times of ephemeral appearance.

And the poet steps aside
to examine the heart
amid blind stops and starts,
focused with pinpoint precision.

Look away from the morning’s
unrhythmical phrase
in the opposite sky, anticrepuscular rays,
remind one of beauty’s emergence.

And the face is of love,
the blocked sounds reappear,
in an eye-blink, a mere
reminder of the dance’s convention.

Sonnet I

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Shirts are hanging on the dryer rack
facing this way, that way, all askew.
Pressed ones- never worn -pushed to the back,
thread-worn fabric-favorites- still in view.

All the trousers worn throughout the week,
a time when all the clothing is reborn,
cycled through the wash and wear to seek,
yet, when the day is come, some never worn.

Moved from wash and rinse to spin and dry,
the change in quarter marks an upward trend
past the crush of linen’s static cry,
to push the laundered load towards its end.

Then what remains, the slight adorning change
of coins and such, and shirts to rearrange.

think diamond

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is passion
jagged and obtuse,
or egg-shaped and small?

many thousands will think
and ask together.

we have a frantic need to know this.
while existing in burning air and suffocating space
spalling red blood tears
between each moment of sweetness
bits and pieces starting as wax, not honey.

it does not pour or flow,
rather builds and solidifies as stone
clashing with the surrounding sediment
to sharpened edges:

a gem that scars and heals.

that’s what love never tells you.

Soothing Refrain

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Let the rain kiss you.
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops.
Let the rain sing you a lullaby.
~Langston Hughes

I went for a walk in the rain
because I wanted to soak.

I had an umbrella, but didn’t bring it with me,
keeping instead to the tree-covered lane
in the center of the boulevard.

Large drops penetrated the canopy
to drench me, but yet still
was coddling and consoling.

Passing people with ponchos
who smiled at my foolishness.
Street vendors stared and then
covered their wares with tarps and old towels.

There was the splash as I shuffled my feet.
The penetrating damp crept through my sleeves
Far from idyllic,
just a steady rhythm
of cascading drips through rattling leaves.

The trickle of rainwater down my cheek
as I awoke at the end of the street,
gave the vague clarity
of having just been kissed.

Crafting Memories

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At my parent’s house, my mother has a glass topped table in her kitchen. The table base is the wrought-iron base of an old sewing machine…it has a pedal. It is only natural to want to push the pedal and make the wheel rotate. For years, members of the family have taken turns sitting in the seat with the pedal at our feet, cranking away while we drank coffee in the mornings, ate our breakfast, held late night discussions… sowing conversation and weaving stories. Our children, from the moment they could reach the pedal from the seat, wanted to sit there and work the pedal. It was a moment we could engage them in a conversation. But more than that, it was a time to share our memories with them.

…until the axle finally broke away from the wheel. We could rest our feet there, but the pedal would not move. It was as if time conspired. Everyone was older, people were moving faster, things break down.

During one of his recent visits, my nephew attached the axle to the wheel and wrapped it with rubber bands. He is ten years old. He understands the value of memories and wanted to fix it.

We noticed it this past Thanksgiving and pedaled again with joy.

Rubber bands don’t last forever either, and they will in time dry out and become frangible. Those attachments, unless welded or firmly adhered, will become loose and broken again.

Time can take its toll on things, but memories fashioned with craftsmanship and ingenuity will last.

Our children see to that.

That versatility thing…

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Soooo….I’ve been nominated for the Versatile Blogger Award by Sarah over at Earful of Cider, which is both interesting and very nice.

///////////////////////////////////////////
Rules for The Versatile Blogger Award.

1. nominate 5 fellow bloggers for The Versatile Blogger Award.
2. add the Versatile Blogger Award logo.
3. thank the blogger who nominated you with a link to their blog.
4. share 7 completely random pieces of information about yourself.
5. include this set of rules.
6. Inform each nominated blogger of their nomination by posting a comment on each of their blogs.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

It is interesting, because I don’t consider my blogging to be that versatile at the moment. On the one hand, I’m new at this and haven’t accumulated a great following of readers. Further, I typically only post poems, though I have also published a few other notes off to the side there, that I don’t think many people have read…at least they’ve never gotten stats or likes or comments. In addition, Sarah fully admitted she was down to the last people on her list…(wink).

However, in the spirit of giving, and because it was nice gesture in early 2012 to be recognized by a fellow blogger…I accept this award. Now comes the difficult part for me. I have to nominate 5 other bloggers who I deem worthy of the award. (Note: See my comment above, I probably only have visited 5 other blogs, several of which already have this award).

Chances are, I’m gonna have to go out and read somebody’s blog just to get the nominations done…kind of the blogosphere’s version of Ding Dong Ditch. This might take me a while…

Secondly, I have to share 7 factoids about myself. This should be reeaaaally interesting*.

1. As a young toddler, I bit the head off a pet turtle. One of those small turtles, that you keep in little terrariums. My mother swears I did this, I don’t recall it. I lived over it…the turtle…well…no.

2. I once sat behind Chick Corea and Pat Metheny on an airplane flight to Wisconsin. My wife and I were going to friend’s wedding. They had just played at the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival the night before. In retrospect, I’m surprised they were flying coach. If you’ve never heard of them…never mind.

3. Though I’ve been to Europe a few times, I’ve never been to the US West Coast.

4. I don’t like hospitals. I’ve been in them more times than I care to count.

Wrigley Field

5. One of my personal goals is to visit all the major league baseball parks for a game. So far, I’ve been to Great American (Cincinnati- too easy not to), PNC Park (Pittsburgh), Wrigley Field (Chicago), and Miller Park (Milwaukee). Eventually, I’ll have to see the West Coast (#3). We are managing about one trip per summer and I’m running out of close options…it’s going to get more difficult in a few years.

6. I like movies. Field of Dreams is probably my favorite movie. Blazing Saddles is the funniest movie ever made…and I don’t think it would ever be made in this day and age. I prefer the Lord of the Rings to Star Wars. They shouldn’t have made the newest Indiana Jones movie.

7. I have a soft spot for nostalgia. Anything about old memories, old stories, Old TV shows photos, music, books, furniture, technology, etc., I’m hooked. I used to refinish/refurbish old furniture pieces for our home, but ultimately ran out of room. I collect old poetry books. I look forward to visiting flea markets.

Done.

Now, I have to go nominate 5 people—4 of whom will probably have never known of me before now—when I visit their blog for the first time—leaving a note about the Versatile Blogger Award in the dark of night or early morning light…then stealthily sneak away. Once I get that done, I’ll update the post.

Who was that masked man?

*As a side note, I’m a shy person by nature, so sharing information is much easier behind the veil of “secrecy”…pay no attention to the man behind the curtain…I am the GREAT and POWERFUL OZ!

********************
And I would like to nominate the following wonderful people:
1. Kim at Lovely Shades of Nostalgia – she always has an interesting take on the past, whether it be music or family, toys, diners. A fun blog to follow!

2. Sherry at Too Much August, Not Enough Snow– A wonderful poet, writer, photographer and story-teller. You feel like you are with her in the mountains of Montana.

3. Gabrielle at Gabrielle Bryden’s Blog: Another wonderful poet, photographer, and writer from Down-Under.