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Filtering by Category: poem notes
*****
::By Post:: is a collaborative series of virtual postcards posted between Jenna and me, conceived to celebrate the week we're spending on opposite coasts of the country (Jenna on Nantucket, me in Oregon). Visit Jenna's blog to read hers. See other posts in this series here.
(front)
the minutes after dusk navy blue sky atop the arched-against-the-shore never-ending water.
(back)
when i sleep, i hear your song
the tumbling chorus of
push
pull
letting go
holding on
i hear your song
and i open up
to find pieces of me
*****
::By Post:: is a collaborative series of virtual postcards posted between Jenna and me, conceived to celebrate the week we're spending on opposite coasts of the country (Jenna on Nantucket, me in Oregon). Visit Jenna's blog to read hers. See other posts in this series here.
Today, I would like to share two poems that both bring in the image of pink petals. I have shared them in my archives here and here, so today, I want to read them to you. To hear them, just click on "Two Poems" below. And, if you are playing along in this week of pink, please let me know so I can visit you in your corner of the world.
carolina wren turns her back to me
tail feather straight up
wiggles
you better really live it
she seems to say
you better really live it
you said
when i moved into my first apartment after college
you better do all that i didn't do
i hear you
in the rustling of the wren
who looks at me
just before she whisks off
to live
*****
i hear her saying those words. i hear her in the chirping of the hummingbird wondering where the feeder is. i hear her when i close my eyes and breathe deeply. i hear her. i tell myself this when it feels like i am forgetting, when i want to hear her voice say the right thing. though, truth is, she simply didn't always have the right words. but i pretend, at least on this day. and then, when i admit i know the truth of not being able to hear her, not in the ways i want to, and admit that she might not have the words i need to here in this place right now, i remember my mother's voice earlier today. i hear my mother's voice and i hear love. and it is good. and i am blessed. and i breathe in and out and keep moving forward.
olympic peninsula forest . april, 2009
i wonder about the moment
when the fern
dug in,
insisting it had found
its true home
50 feet from the earth,
rooted in the oak.
did the moss feel surprise
or just sigh,
knowing the quiet
was too good to be true?
hello there you
with your incredible pants
and cheeks
and wispy hair
look at you standing tall
although perhaps unsure
between, i am guessing, a buick and a chevy
something tells me this might have been a moment of good-bye
one last photo snapped before they backed out of the driveway
to head over the hills and mountains toward home
saying good-bye was really never your thing
still isn't
waiting to cry until later
when everyone else has left
yes, this is what you do
how i wish i had those pants
i would turn them into patches of a quilt
yes
to be made for someone destined to be your size one day
those searching eyes
one foot then the other
this is what we know
)