i too omit one kelly
::
a line from an e.e. cummings poem
that has always made me smile
being a kelly and all
and always wondering
which one
he chose
to omit.
::
april is national poetry month
::
and right now i am into
all things that make me
smile.
an ocean of hope
sinks into my heart
and washes it clean
of bitterness.
yes,
only temporarily,
but,
that is
life.
::
i send those
tiny boats of optimism
back out
with the tide.
yes,
an exercise in futility,
but,
that is
hope.
::
always,
it rolls
back in.
:
crows, in groups of three.
a tree that stands, alone, in a field.
yellow daffodils whose smell is louder than their color.
a never-ending winter that i have made my peace with.
the promises that life has whispered in my ear.
this silence that pours into me like honey.
unopened buds singing songs of tomorrow.
a branch, extended like a hand,
to land on.
painting pictures in a world without color.
i crawl into this hole that nature has provided,
sing myself to sleep.
when i awaken,
clamber out of my cave
to see sun
glinting off leaves
and green mirrors,
i will have grown.
you write
when there are words,
and when there are none,
you wait.
it’s the silence that drives you mad,
despite its claim to necessary.
you run
when you are able,
and when your muscles fail,
you sit.
it is inertia that holds you hostage,
the resting that reclaims you.
you sob
when there are tears,
and when they’ve run their course,
you inhale.
it is the cleansing that keeps you whole,
a release to fix your broken.
you laugh
when there is joy,
and as the world reveals its soul,
you smile.
it is the hug you offer humanity
that gives you back your own.
you live
when there is life,
and with each breath,
you appreciate.
it is dawn that keeps you wondering,
as you watch the night unfold.
you cannot tame an ancient lion.
he already knows more than you
and besides, his claws are real.
::
you cannot fill a bucket with hope.
if you try to contain your longing
it always spills over the edges.
::
you cannot hide your bruises.
they are the map of your existence
and without them, you are lost.
::
you cannot whisper to a rose.
there is nothing you could say
it has not heard before.
::
you can only smile at the mountain.
let it climb its way through your heart
and then listen, for the echo.
dancing spots of light and echoes of cathedral
whispering of things
i never learned
evening draws near once again
sunsets in february
so melodramatic
all pretty and loud but still frozen,
lacking any sense
of the ethereal
there,
the real,
ether
all words that live inside another
the way these spots of light
live inside a shadow
a pew inside a church
a heart inside a life
periwinkle exists
but only in my imagination.
green sifts through my dreams
flirting with my senses
a tease.
pink stays close by
just under my nose
where i can’t see it.
yellow and gold
have been forgotten.
violet winds its way
into my heart.
promises,
promises.
i am empty
i am open
i am waiting.
in this place
of impatience
trying hard
to be patient.
i am vessel
i am basket
i am bowl.
air spins round
inside me
cyclone of promise
taking up space
present
but not quite
there.
i am empty
i am open
i am waiting.
blood red
on a backdrop
of gray on white
color of life
life hidden
inside
waiting
watching
for warmth
to burst into
leaf
in summer
this color
goes
unnoticed
