Categories
2021 Albuquerque American Place New Mexico Poems

End of Summer

A walk in the foothills
At the end of summer
Still very warm with
A hint of coolness in the breeze
Roasting a landscape full of seed
Getting ready for winter winds
To scatter the next generation
Of thistle and sage across the plain
Cottonballs full of flight-ready potential

Starburst purple Asters and little
Fucsia-colored clusters line the dry dirt and sand
While hundreds of pale blue Dragon Flies
Do helicopter fly-bys filling
The air with their hyper activity
Butterflies big and small match
The colors of the coming fall
And set my mind free
To fly with them on the breeze.

Categories
2021 American Place New Mexico Poems

By The Lake

As I sit here by my fire
And the morning turns to day
The fish we caught
Is made a meal
But we no longer can stay
For time is short
Out in the woods
As time is short
Out in this world
These simple things
That we enjoy
Don’t last too long
Once they’ve unfurled
Yet these moments make
Great treasure
And some may get written down
Yes, out here we take real pleasure
In the scene, the set, the sounds
But, out here there are no actors
Only characters pure and true
To this theater we take for granted in
These places where they do what they will do.

Categories
2021 American Place Garden Psalms Poems Utah

Archland

The Land of Edward Abbey
The Land of Desert Solitaire
The Land that inspired
An entire conservation movement.
The Land of the Black Widow
The Coyote and the Rattlesnake
Where Mountain Lions used to roam before they were banished from their home by the development from which The Park was developed to protect.
The Land of Red Sand and Slick Rock where if you walk long enough
You will be rewarded with Vistas that thwart adjectives of all sorts to describe this incommunicable beauty.
This Land where stones fall away to make the objects of your day’s
Pursuit across this waterless garden.
The Land that draws so many
Out of their homes; out of their cities
To reunite their families and populate their Snapchat feeds.
This Land that calls the human spirit to bear this Heat and push their limits to be inspired by This Land
And renew this desire for protection
So that generation after generation
May review and renew This Land until the rains make something new of This Land!

Categories
2021 Poems

Porcelain

Powdery white
Stunningly strong
Shapely and thin
Porcelain

My love, she is like a porcelain bowl
Always full of something delicious
To be shared with brilliant conversation and joyous laughter!
Beautiful on the outside
Intricate on the inside
Brimming with nurturing warmth
And sustaining compassion
Here for me when I am sick
Sharing with me to end my hungering
Sits next to me quietly and contemplative

My love is like porcelain
Enduring
Useful
Gorgeous
One of a kind
Something I want near to me
For the rest of my life!

Categories
Poems

Midnight Coyote

Midnight coyote’s
Creepy call
Stirs me awake
With their whine and yawl
What have they found
That makes my dogs bark
How far away are they
In this dark?

Categories
2021 Poems

The Accountant

As the pages
Of another year
Are written
And turned

We pour
Over them
The diligent
Accountant

Looking for
The errors
That must be corrected
On our records

So often we
Build walls —
Shrines to our
Failures

Rather than
Raising temples
To myriad
Accomplishments

The roads
That become maps
Of where we’ve been
Never the map we plan

For the road
Is paved by the pebbles
Of small decisions —
Unclear Impressionism

Until you step back
From the time spent
Nose down
Trodding onward

And look from
A distance
The many miles
You have travelled.

It is easy
for the road
To be washed out
by the river of misdirection

But for now the sun
Still rises in the East
And sets in the West
And one foot must precede the other

We carry on
Hand in Hand
Together to see
What this next day will bring.

Categories
2021 Albuquerque American Place Arizona New Mexico Oklahoma Poems

Defend The Road

I stand on the side of the road. For she has stood for me, stood for Freedom, for choices, for opportunities un-bounded. Of course, she stands for interruptions as well. Dead ends; roads closed; terminus and for some she is the end of all things before her. The end of a journey; the end of a life; the end of a generation of prosperity. As I stand on the black tar in the hot desert, the orange glow of the sun casting my shadow across the glimmering mirage that dissects her never-ending sprawl across the sand, I can’t help but feel lost. Evacuated from time and space. I don’t know if the sun is rising or setting. There are no clues but my own presence observing the history of her procession across this place. I fall to my knees as if to pray, kiss the hot gravel and feel the surge of every road I’ve ever taken — After hours of driving through the Rockies we reached the end with a washed out road and had to turn back the way we came. The miles of road we travelled all night from Walla Walla to Las Vegas on the bus, the city a beacon of light shining out of the desolate night. Trading cigarettes for whiskey with a Navajo man at 6am when I wasn’t old enough to have breakfast in the casino back in the days before anyone cared that you weren’t old enough to be in the casino buying breakfast and pulling slots. The long drives from Prescott to Oklahoma along I-40 (aka Rt. 66), Albuquerque being the mid-point where I always remembered the dancing cottonwood leaves shining behind the bridge as we pressed on for Texas. The back and forth between Lansing and Louisville via Indianapolis or Cincinnati where the highways were pulmonary arteries throbbing with American life. All of this pavement laid down over the bones of those whose land this once was. So many forgotten dreams of the dead who got in the way of the road’s progress. So much progress fallen under the knee of authority that presses faces into pavement until they can’t breathe because they believe this black road must be painted with white dividing lines. These bypasses that left behind and isolated these segregated communities who now struggle and cry for the American dream that was paved to make way for Amazon and the next off-ramp to the nearest Wal*Mart. And, yet I must defend her. She has given me so many choices; taken me time and again into the beauty of our mountains and forests. She has driven my dreams of change and fueled my ambitions to do something bigger with my life. She has done nothing to us or for us, yet she lets us be good or bad or something or no one. She is my friend and my lover and I must forgive her abuses by the hands of the unworthy. I must revel in her possibility to bring dreams into the night of our awakening dawn.

Categories
2021 American Place New Mexico Poems

I must be in the right place

The blue screen won’t load
The news is old
The fire is hot
The coffee is cold

I must be in the right place

The wind whistles through the trees
The air wheezes as I breathe
The dirt is dirty with blackest soot
The trees have fallen exposing roots

I must be in the right place

I am in the write place
With time to think
And craft this space
With smoke in my eyes there’s time to blink

I must be in the right place

With many miles and tires worn
My skin the sun seeks to absorb
The camp is set, the children fed
No fingers, smashed, no nothing bled

I must be in the right place

Categories
2021 Albuquerque American Place Bird Song Poems

Won’t Run From Love

Sly, daring, road running
Time of Love, not quite spring
But the waning days of winter sing
Of the promise — A Whisper
Of the returning season
Of raising a new generation
Of cunning birds…
This one with Lizard in mouth
An offering for his devote
Lifemate and lover.
In the road they dance
And show that they have
No patience for the changing clime
Rare to take flight, in pursuit he might
Soar from rooftop to rooftop.
With coos, clicks and beeps
He woos his sweet and as we pass
They pay no mind to our kind.

Categories
2021 American Place Poems Utah

A Horse Named “Unlucky”

Boys are dumb and I was one.
My brother yet another…
Having started our vacation in canyons
With adventures beyond our imagination
My brother and I headed out for a walk
Into the sandstone curves of Arches’ rocks.
Taller and faster he tracked on ahead
And separated we became instead.
Too far out to go back, without the
Brother I lacked, I kept searching around ’til
I found him at the edge of a sweeping bowl.
And, down deep in that hollowed out hole
Laid the scattered bones of a horse that
Became known as “Unlucky.”
Fascinated by this find, into that hole we climbed
Only to leave ourselves with no escape route.
After hollers and shouts, our luck too had
Run out and we resolved to settle
In for the night. Our backs to the wall
We sat with whistles to blow
Tunes as our call out for help.
As day finished up and the sun drifted
Down, it’s hard to know how long we
Chirped. Long enough that our Mom, full
Of worry, dragged Dad out to search
For these dumb boys who kept running off.
These whistles that they bought us
For just such a cause had led them
Unto our holey predicament. Mom found us
In our hole, with our backs against the wall,
Chirping like birds getting ready for the night.
Our father she found to haul us out of
The ground, too happy to scold,
These boys they raised to be bold.

From the Journal of Judy Sutherlin

Categories
American Place Guest Writers

From the Journals of Judy Sutherlin

1979 – Tues. July 17 – Awake at 6:55 AM – We took sponge baths & had breakfast cereal – Stephen fell out of bed last night or was sleep walking.—He doesn’t remember – Broke the chain on vent so had to repair it — Jim didn’t smash himself this morn. He says it feels better — boys played ball away by 9:50 — Red Rock area pretty — then Gallup – gas – 10.5mpg – Bah! Straight up to Ship Rock – Lunch at Table Mesa rest stop — getting warm now. (Missing the trailer toilet facilities) – at Ship Rock finally had potty stop & got ice – 15.5 mpg – better! No air conditioning made the difference. So drove from Cortez on into Canyonlands before Moab before  turning the air on – Dad took nap while mom drove — hilly — bad roads into Utah – Pretty tho – Monticello pretty town with nice park – didn’t stop tho til Wilson’s Arch – 3:50 got our candy bars – Mom tired! Dad took over – boy did air cond. feel good. Moab was unique looking – nestled in amongst the Canyons & the Colorado River running by. Got to Arches in good time – about 5:30 – 18 mi. back in – we were so proud we got there & set up. Realized Randy had locked trailer door – No key – Mom went looking for boys who were climbing & got stuck in a pit – all were sick about trailer. Everyone tried to pick lock – Had given up & decided to stay w/o the door in – when Stephen Miraculously announced he opened it. Couldn’t believe it. Wind really picked up – but cooled things down – Mom fixed grilled sirloin steak – mashed Pot., salad – Dad took boys on MC Ride before dinner & after dinner Mom got a ride to watch the sunset while  boys did the dishes – 1st time – Mom was surprised to learn there are many Arches – not just one. Beau is sure being a good dog this trip – Not always on chain & staying close in. He’s doing better than the boys who run off every chance – They do love Canyons – All went to Ranger talk – Delicate Arch is really Landscape Arch & Visa Versa – Many comical errors in the formation of park – Became Nat’l Monument 1929 – Nat’l Park 1971. To bed by 10:00 – we’re all exhausted!

A Horse Named “Unlucky”

Categories
2021 Albuquerque American Place Poems

Assailant One

Perception is not reality
Just ask The Mountain
She is an illusion…

Presenting herself
Like a bear on hind legs
Much grander much
Bigger – A whole lot
More terrifying.

But the mountain lies…
Not One Mountain at all
Many (mini) Mountains
Each requiring its own
Accent.

Each of a scale and
Magnitude to fatigue
The sojourner who seeks
To run his toes through her
Sands.

She is grand, but
Not how she seems
From a distance.
From afar, un-assailable!

Yet, peel away her layers
And you may find a
Passage unto her loving
Bosom.

Categories
2021 Albuquerque American Place Bird Song Poems

Golden Boughs

The trees acknowledge me
Nodding their heads
In the breeze

Contrasted pillars
Of black and white
Glowing golden

Packed full of
Black birds
Suddenly silent

Then bursting away
In a tightly packed
School of flight

Growing calls
Of the animals
Preparing for the night

Herons tall
And purple
Pecking their evening meal

As little perfection
Can be found in this world
This moment, one–

Lifts my spirit and
Makes me bound
Giddy as a child called to home.

Categories
2021 Ars Philosophica Ars Poetica Breaking Muse Poems

Fire Was The Last One To Read This Book – I

I – Book of Matches

Theme, Tone, Meter
Subject so
Illusive

Matters, meanings
And Moments
Illustrative

We have relinquished our
place at the council table

We have forsaken our
Duty to protect the arts

We have been overcome
By our own eviscerating criticism

We have severed the artisan’s
Hand from the corporal community

We have left them behind
To suffer the brutality of the mob

They have come to the Library
With torches — Our Words

Read In Fire

Categories
2021 Ars Philosophica Ars Poetica Breaking Muse Poems

Fire Was The Last One To Read This Book – II

II – Fire Song

The Pages tumbled
Off the shelf
Waterfall —
Firefall
Fire
Burns
Tumbles Pages back up
Full of Flames
The words read
One last time
by Fire
Falls
Fire
Burns
Pages tumble and whirl
In tornadoes
On Fire, Words
Consumed for
The last time
by fire
Falls
Fire
Burns
Swirls with sparkles
Of the Sun
Consuming One
Last time
Our words
by Firefalls
of Fire
Burning books
Consuming
One
Last
Time — Our words
Burn

Categories
2020 Ars Poetica Breaking Muse Poems

Two Towers

Standing behind the crowd in the
Auditorium, looking down at
The Wasteland and more importantly
The Poet on a pedestal who
We were in awe to see. We bow
And say blessings to the lord of the
Modern moment where everyone realized
We were doomed. That the industrial gloom
Would blacken our minds as it had
Already blackened our lungs
And blinded our windshields
Our eyes in the dim lit neon spectacles, wept.
This was my experience from the lectern.
And I worshipped for many years the
Quartets and the high-minded — I don’t
Understand — Get the Encyclopedia — language

But, this was
Modern?

Now
I reckon
upon
a more clearly modern mind

Here
I find
The Red

Wheelbarrow
And a delicious
Plum

And I am
completely
satisfied

By nothing too Mythic
At all (save Unicorns & Beasts)
Just A
Waterfall

Of images
and words
That float along on pages

The rhythm
Tapping its foot – – –
Variably – – – –

Changing
Before you know it
You don’t know it
You don’t know why

It has changed
But it feels
So right.

Justified on the page to fit
Left and right
Right and wrong
Tomorrow and Goodnight

The Wanderer
The Sparrow
The Woman
The River

The Man
The City
The Poet
Founder

Of the plain
Every day
And therefore
Devotionally and divine poem.

Categories
2020 American Place Poems

Winter’s Day

Winter is here
Mid-
Winter
If you
Live someplace cold

Cold is here
Morning
Ice
Muffin tops
Made of glass

Glass window
Draped
In fog
Glowing
With Christmas colors

Colors everywhere
This time of year
A light
To bring you
Through the dark winter night

Categories
2020 Bird Song Poems Winter

Midwinter

3 Robins
in a bush

Murder of Crows
On the roof

In search
Of water

In search
Of food

Winter’s
Here

Hunger
Soon

Categories
2020 Poems

Sitting by the Window

The old man sits
His accomplishments
In his lap

A bag of
Memories and triumphs
Moments and epiphanies

He is alone
Now, sometimes unable to
Make sense of the bundle

He opens it
Rummages for one
To abate his longing

No longer relevant
All of his virile impressions
Are now gathered here

A wish to silence
The depression, the anger
With one last victory

And, if some passerby
May find him here
He would always share

For the stories
Of these deeds
Were all he has left
…to give…

Categories
Poems

Ambitious

Two Woodpeckers
Came by today
For food
And water
Spangled with white stars
and red stripes
They chased off
Red-hooded finches
And Chestnut-colored sparrows
To get the best peck
At the suet and the seed
–They comfort me–
Ambitious!
Certain.

Categories
2020 Breaking Muse Poems

Honey

Waking
My consciousness comes
In globs of Honey

Amber capsules
Holding the
Last vestiges of my dreams

Dropped and drawn
Into the moments
Of what the day may bring

Interspersed
With darkness–
With sleep…

The bending on a
Dali Clock
Stilled and stopped

Time travel
before it
Begins again
–at 7:10

Categories
2020 American Place New Mexico Poems

Into The Woods

Into the woods
The end of summer
Into cold morning
A gleeful glimmer
of a night without incident…
Nothing to prevent
Our awakening
of senses, primordial
Long forgotten, guttural
need for fire and food.

A great horned owl
awakens me from my
darkened state
with the call to its mate
to breakfast.
Brings my morning thoughts around
to the food we hauled up
off the ground
into a tree to ward
off bears out hungry.

A long winding walk, heavy
packs but light thoughts
down to the river’s edge we made.
With campfire rings and
the desire to sing
we make tales of what
adventure bring.

Categories
2020 American Place New Mexico Poems

Longitudinal Awareness

Longitudinal Awareness
Not really a thing —
Not spatial, more sensory
The open capillary of mental exercise
A receptor that activates once in the wild
A slower foot, a surer step
Knowing that it is too quiet
While noting every sound.
The calls of the creatures
No room for mistakes, so
you lay awake wondering if it
be predator or varmint
Alive
Open
Receiving
Consciousness
Ready for the surprises
Except for your own
Mental illness

Categories
Poems

Anniversary

Orchids;

  Rope after rope

of Marigolds

Fuchsia tapestry

    Dancing to the fast fingers

of the solo guitarist

Black Bird

    “Take these broken wings”

“We are gathered here to leap”

Like your brother and cousin

    So small (now grown)

Splashing water in 99º

The gathering

    With hand fans

waving to the beat (the heat)

As we assemble everyone

      who cherish us

to bear witness

To our love —

      The Souls Mate

The couple hitched

And at 17

      This life has grown

Into One

I no

      longer know

Myself

Without

  seeing

    you smile!

Categories
Poems Shapes

Please Explain

“Perhaps I am a dull reader; if so, these matters can be explained.
And in fairness to me they must be explained—if not by Dr. Wil-
liams, then by some modern prosodist sympathetic to Dr. Wil-
liams’s method.” H.C.

Yes, I am
Sympathetic to
the random form

The triadic
flow. We’re
sorry it causes you

So much
confusion. I
quite like the

Dalian comparison though
If my lines
could drip

Off the pages
and flow back
into the river

I would
have accomplished
My Art.

 *April 8th, 1950. “Dr. Williams’s Paterson” Hayden Carruth - Studies in Paterson
Categories
2020 Poems Shapes

Old Songs (for Jimmy)

So far The Distance The Atlantic To The Rio Grande
So Long The Time We’ve spent Drifting apart

The Arts We’ve slipped Away the years
Last Grains To come No chance To turn The Glass
Again Until small smiles Renew our Promise for Potential

Songs are to be written By Old Men Yet sung By the Young
What gifts might the distance bring
As we age and sing with growing wisdom

Categories
2020 Breaking Muse Poems Six Pack

Wild Horses

The sign
It says
“Please stay at Home”

Forget your car
Forget your bones

In their closets
They must stay

All your ambition’s
(Fears) —put away

At least for now
At least today…

——

This first time directive
We can collectively recall
To just do nothing
To sit in our stalls

But these American
Mustangs are getting
Restless

We like to roam
We like it breathless

We just don’t know just what to do
When we’re told to stay home
Until this is through

Categories
2020 Bird Song Garden Psalms Poems Shapes

Seeds in captivity

Categories
2020 Albuquerque American Place Garden Psalms Poems Six Pack

if the moon can see my fire

Can the moon see my fire
As it passes over head
Both alight my night
And stave off the dread
Of all those things out
In the the darkness of all
Those things we cannot see
But if the moon can see my fire
I’ll spend the night outwardly

Categories
2020 Poems Shapes

Out Of Sync

It is the Language that will save us.
If the words don’t destroy us first. ~Mindscribe

We are asked to see the world as binary. We are given glasses with only two lenses — polar lenses in opposition of eachother, pulling your eyes with a strain so hard that the only choice is to close one of your eyes. But, we need bifocals at least, though we really use an array of lenses everyday. Ones for work, others for children, bare naked eyes for your lover — “An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind” – Ghandi

Categories
2020 American Place Breaking Muse Poems Six Pack

Canned Goods

Fragile
[boxes]
Bounded up
De-coupling—
Social
Distancing—

Uncomfortable

Pauses

As to what
Qualifies
As normal.
Needing
Canned
Laughter

for
Comfort
Food.

Categories
2020 Garden Psalms Poems Shapes

My Heart Is A Circle

Circles are always complete
even if they are bent, shaken
or twisted.

They remain connected even
as gravity pulls at them
and warps them.

No matter how this world spins
and bends and twists us; together,
You and I remain circular.

Categories
2020 Ars Poetica Breaking Muse Garden Psalms Poems

Burst Your Bubble

My head, it splits
Like waves on
The barren shore
Bubbling oxygenation
As the brack
Settles into sand
And air escapes
Once again, gurgling
Out of the semi-solid surface.
My inspiration
Captured in bubbles
For brief moments — real!
In the end, a burst
Of emptiness, vapid dreams
Hollow constructions
Radiating energy but
Alas — empty…
These words, all that remain
Of the membrane of H2O
Clinging together desperately,
Delicately capturing a
Breath of life and then
Exuberantly
Exhaling it to the world.
Captive for one moment
Before being shared with
Every living thing.
The poem, the word of being.

Categories
2020 American Place Poems

Dwelling on the Past

I saw the
Volcanoes 3
In front of me
History

I saw the
Heavenly Stars
The Light from These
History

I saw
The thoughts
In my head
The reflections
They said,
“History”

My Present
Human Being
Exists in
The Past

I build the Future here.

Categories
2019 American Place Arizona Garden Psalms Poems

Mustang

When we
were out
on desert snow

Up top
our fair
equestr’an mounts

We saw
A lone
Ghostly Mustang

Upon
the hill.
Whiplashing mane

White

Like snow
It flows
flurry over muscle

Watch’d us
ride by
then off
with a stride

Chasing after Freedom

Categories
2019 Ars Poetica Breaking Muse Footnotes Poems Why

A poem

A poem
Is a feast for strangers
From the future
A poet is a fortune teller
From the present
Seemingly prescient
Presently misunderstood.

Categories
2019 American Place Garden Psalms Poems

Piedra Lumbre

It’s easy to see
Why Georgia O’Keefe
Landed in Abiquiu.
All these cowboy clouds
and sunshine smiles
So much painting to do.

Rosie red arches
And sulfur burning
With Yellowing tongues
Rising, Lashing out
Lapping up lapis
Skies, with brushes swung

Heavy oil to evoke
American dream.
A land growing lost
To the lush beauty
She acquired on
blank sheets of canvas.

”Stone of lumination.”

Categories
American Place Garden Psalms

Dead Horse

The Skull
from The Mountains
Bullet Hole
between the eyes
Whole body
puzzle of bones

Bone broken
on winter’s pass
Burden taken
under human foot
Friend fallen
Last farewell

Friends taken
to the woods
Too early
for human foot
Skull‘s burden
Taken home

To rest

A week in the Chama River valley

Categories
American Place Ars Poetica Garden Psalms

It speaks to you

I went to buy a book of poems
Hearts, identities, wants, failures
Scattered across pages, books, shelves of books, shelves of
poetic thrashings

Awaking from the same bad dream, writing the same bad poetry
that releases your free will to subjugation and lies
dormant in the pithy pulp, poet after poet
screaming unto no one, until

“I’ll take this one”

Categories
American Place Ars Philosophica Poems

Forged

Without Constraint there is only Chaos,
Without Chaos there can be no Creation.
In between Leaders are forged by the pressure.

Wisdom is knowing the Fire from the Anvil.
Leadership is wielding the Hammer without vanquishing the Flame.

Categories
Ars Poetica Poems

The Clock

I don’t know if I have
That much time left
There’s an urgency
Thumping on my breast
I don’t feel well
And they don’t know why
Their test inconclusive
Their guesses they belie
The truth that’s inevitable
“No one here get out alive”
So what do I do with myself
For what can I strive?
To peck and hen out words
To make another poem?
For if I don’t complete these thoughts
No one will ever know ’em.
My epic will fall apart
My legacy forgotten
No one can read my writing
These seed will never be sewn
Yet in a panic
Poetic will fail
These themes ill conceived
Will just flop and flail
So what do I do
When there’s money needs be made
To care for my family
If I don’t see the next day.
Do I close up this book
And say goodbye to this dream?
Or do I take my last breath
Trying to say what I mean?

Categories
2021 American Place New Mexico Poems

Ripples Through Time

I sit in my canoe
Thinking of you
My Mentor
My teacher
A man drifting in calm
Waters of the present
Looking across the ripples
Of the past.
You taught me the blessings
Of Smoke
Steaming Cedar branches
And Sweat
You taught me how to return
To our Mother
Hold her sacred
Center
and
Still
Oneself as the
Ghosts of the Buffalo
Silently graze on by
As shimmering ancestors
Follow
Singing their stories
To you
Creating a new narrative
That will ripple
Out into the Future–
For nothing created
Is ever truly destroyed.

Categories
2021 Poems

Broken 2

My heart is broken
Not a teenage love un-requited
A literal misfire
In my bifurcation
One side getting the cue
The other don’t know what to do

My heart is broken
Not my emotional figure
No this is real
Not some token
Something has gone wrong
That could end my song.

Categories
2021 Poems

Pop Ice

I’m addicted to Popcicles
I just can’t stop with the otter pop
Cold
Crunch
Sugary
Munch
For dinner and lunch
I make them
Disappear
Yes it’s weird!
I think I’ve
Gained 5 pounds
Slurpin’ them down
I know it sounds strange
But the slush
The sweet rush
Cold tongue stain
Freeze brain
Making me insane
For
Popcicles!

Categories
2021 Garden Psalms Poems

Deep thoughts

Spring flowers bloom
Bright and buoyant
A sea of shimmering potential
Then the unbridled sun
Beats upon them like a drum
Until they are withered dry
And drooping down
Faded colors, petals falling
A return to soil as
The seeds are calling
To be carried into some
Future spring.
When you get disheartened
Breaking down
–Feel forgotten
Know that the circle
Always turns round again
And the things that you lost
You may again come across
As you complete
This rotation
Around the sun.

Categories
2021 Ars Poetica Poems

Self-deprecation

What radical shapes
Can these lines take
To blow the minds
Of the critical judge?
My rhythms and beats
Would soon hit delete
If held to the academic lens.
My forms seem standard
My themes unenlightened
The topics of today
Shaped by cruelty.
My meter 4/4
My couplets I adore
My birds and trees
Are all that come from me.
What would they have me do
To stand out from you?
The poet deemed better
Than the rest?
What duress must I endure
What heartbreak must I cure
To be considered the
Greatest of this age?
Some sage for the annals
Whose words fill these halls
And speak to a new
Generation as the
Voice and wisdom of the nation?

Categories
2021 Ars Poetica Poems

Gone Fishing

So few times
To Carry me
Through these days
Lately
So little written down
As I toss
These thoughts
Around
As if they
Are forbidden
To see the light
Of day.
Gone fishing,
Off camping
Must work
Or some other
Excuse
To refuse
To record
This poet’s dream.

Categories
2021 Ars Poetica Poems

Write, right?

Write, Write
Everyday
Even if
You have nothing
To say
Make it habit
More than a goal
If you don’t
Just do it
You’re leaving
A Hole
In your notebook
Where thoughts
Should assemble
And emptiness
Is what’s left
To ressemble
That you had nothing
To say
And no one cares
Anyways
So write, write
Every day
Before you’re dead
And left
Something unsaid.