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 Ars Philosophica Poems

Grocery List

Always out of
Toilet paper
Never enough
Dish soap
We just ran out of
Dog food
Can’t wash my hair
Without shampoo
Why are we so concerned
With all these things
What if we cared as much
About caring
Seems like this list of what
We’ve run out of
Needs to include more things
Like Love
We sure could use some
More compassion
We seem to have run out of that
Thing called peace
We need to see if we can find more
Forgiveness
Maybe if we could find some
Strength
We could get through the day without
All this Hate

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
2021 Albuquerque American Place Poems

Ghost Town

The City is full of Ghosts
Not the dead kind
The impressions of existence
Left behind.
Rarely do we see the signs
Like Coyote
Never revealing her constant
Presence.
She only comes out when
No one else can observe her.

Yet, as I walk out in the
Quiet snow this morning
An entire ecosystem reveals
its passage by…
The rabbit who I’ve never seen
On my street
Has walked around my car
Looking for what I might
Have dropped to eat.

Many, many people whose paths
Are clear from footprints
In and out of their houses.
The robins and finches who
Have come for morning meal.

All is silent but I know they are there
Revealed by their impressions…

Like Racoon and Coyote
Solo trails without human companion
The handish print and claws
And the canine with no walker.

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 Poems

Nevermind what I wanted

I wanted to be a
Rock Star
Drank enough to fall
Out of a car
But the beat, beat me
And the band disbanded

I wanted to be
A Novelist
Drank enough to make
Hemingway blush
But the narrative eluded me
And the book was shelved

Now, I have abandoned the bottle
And picked up my pen
Ever the poet, my poems my friends
Who have never abandoned me
In the moon’s blue light
Whose occasional outburst
Blooms before my sight

Words my salvation
When in anger this day
Softens the danger and
Beckons me to stay
True to my word
In a world that lies
Awake in the darkness
With new lines to try

Categories
2021 Ars Philosophica Breaking Muse Poems

Palindrome

Sun
Setting
Under
Setting
Sun

Categories
2021 American Place Breaking Muse Poems

American Eulogy

American EulogyWe weep
We weep
We cry
We seek
Meaning
For our
Reverend
And our lost
So many
So many
We knew
Intimately
Now gone
Now gone
To this
Viral cause
Sisters
Brothers
Fathers
Mothers
Our uncles
Grandmas
Our friends
And loved ones
Few have been
Untouched
By this Angel
Of Death
Their flags
They fly
Cross the
Capitol sky
So many
Lights in
Reflections
Tonight
Now tamped
Out and
With our prayers
Take flight
Our river
Of tears
Pour on
Pour on
So many
Great Lives
Cut short
In their stride
We call out
Their names
We share
Their good deeds
A chorus
This mourning
Leaves us
All in need
Let us pray

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