Poem for a Monday - National Poetry Month

I wrote this in 2008, sort of a tribute to the world-famous Cancer center, where I volunteer.



The Healing Place

Hope floats on the breeze here
But the reality is steeped in worry
A healing place gathers

Those with prayers
Those with optimism
Those who feel they cannot go on
Those who are afraid to hope
Those who will not be healed

But in the aftermath
The healing place
A way-station
on the road of life
Gives ……
exactly what you take from it.

Love Poem - National Poetry Month

It's been a decade since I returned to writing poetry.

After some heartbreaking events in 2001, I joined a writing sight, and soon op/eds and humor pieces gave way to writing verse again. I had not done so since the 70's. Verse, and having the courage to publish verse on the internet led to additional bravery, and soon I was resuming a career, which always manages to push things I care about out of my life. In the past two years, I have written little poetry. I have something in progress that may be finished later this month, in time for a "National Poetry Month" posting....and even if it is not, I thought I would share a poem from 2005 with you...

What I Wouldn’t Give

What I wouldn’t give to
Take your compassion and stroke it
Into soulful passion --
Your steadfast spirit and
Merge it with the lonely,
Making quenching fire.

Cooling you when flames bear embers
To ash and crumble, listening
For the meaning of your voice.
Me, a vagabond with no
Boundaries and naught to risk.

I’d risk it all for you.

I channel my bright intensity into
Witty repartee and scarcely hope
That in your amused notice
In your careful and orderly
Existence…

There is room for one who
Will strip away your caution
And scatter it to the wind
Forcing you to face your dilemma…

Friend or lover?

An interesting side note... the man who was once a friend when this poem was written is now perhaps the love of my life.

Today's Poem..... "Optimism"

I wanted to leave this year's "Poetry Month" with something current from me. Poetry has not come easily in the last year. I wrote this for a particularly "plucky" friend who has a remarkable outlook on the surgery she is facing in May. I also chose to write in yellow, which has had a particularly sunny effect on some of the poetry I've loved and published here in the last month. Look for more poetry each week on Wednesday, with my "FreeVerse" entries.

Optimism


One fork in the road
Dissolves into another
You’re tired of forks
But you keep on
Keeping on

One life’s lesson is
Learned, you
Smile at those who inspire
And reassure you
Each and every day

You’d like a year
Where no sadness
Crosses your threshold
But you keep on
Keeping on

There is no better source
Of your own optimism
Than your own
Indomitable spirit
Each and every day.

You’re inexhaustible
You will prevail.

Quidrock 2010

Today's Poem..... Sometimes (FreeVerse)

Thanks to Cara of Ooh Books for hosting FreeVerse! Click on the link above for more.

From my "warm poem" series in 2006:

SOMETIMES

Sometimes you just write and

Sometimes you linger on your voice

And it flows and the warmth moves

From mind to paper

Sometimes you just kiss and

Sometimes the longing moves from

Mouth to mouth and takes what

Little breath you have and dissipates.

Sometimes you muse about what a great notion is and

Sometimes you give birth to one just

Silky and half done wanting

To burst forth and be

Sometimes there’s just no stopping and

Sometimes stopping and feeling in the moment

Is all you want

And all you’ll ever need.

quidrock ~ July 2006

Today's Poem... one of mine

I promised a second poetry entry where I dabbled in the erotic ... and so, here it (gulp) is. It's about a year old. Prior to this post, only one person has seen it. I wonder if I'll regret opening up my poetry journal in this way, but life is not without risk. I truly love this poem. It came to me in a heartbeat. Those are always the most personal.

Lateral

I’m lateral
On the level
Losin’ myself
I want to watch you
But then my jaw drops
My heart stops
Your lips on the back of my neck
Burning through the skin there
I’m inside out

Suddenly
I’m vertical
The smell of me
Mingles with the smell of you
We’re caught up in us
There’s a moon tonight
Watchin’ us
No tellin’

I’m senseless
Taken in by the moment
Fragments of rational
Thought on the run.
Scattered.
In flight.
Got lucky.
Pinch me.


~quidrock 2009

Thanks to Cara of Ooh Books for hosting FreeVerse! Click on the link above for more.

I wrote this "couch potato wannabe poem" in 2000 when the world was a blur... I saw hundreds of people each day, and my house and life was jammed packed with the activities of the four of us. 10 years later, and this need for the comfort of home by yourself is my way of life now. But, I confess, I loved both....

Comfort in Your Own Company…



Your socks don’t match
And it’s surprising you have socks on !
They’re both “whitish” but one is longer
Than the other.
(One must be your husband’s, the other yours).

You’ve a half dozen phone calls to return
But the epilogue of the current novel
Looks to be a scant 40-50 pages
From where your finger holds your place.
(It would be a sin to stop reading now).

There are bills to pay,
Laundry in baskets,
And you’ve run out of toothpaste
In both bathrooms.
(But the grocery store means clothes, and you’re in pajamas).

Difficult to successfully rummage
In fridge or cupboard
For “single person” food
When you are accustomed to cooking for four.
(Hard to believe the thousands of meals you’ve made).

You can have either quick
Or wholesome food. Not much to choose.
Maybe you can also have delicious,
The kind you eat stealthily when others are home.
(Junk food tastes better with stealth).

Book finished, you can catch up on
Your email, do the research for the article
You’ve promised.
Or you can read pearls and order used books from the web.
(It’s no contest).

Hurry, hurry!
Do exactly as you please.
Enjoy your comfort
In your own company.
They’ll be home soon…

FreeVerse Poem - On My Mind

Every once in awhile, I try my poetic hand at something a little erotic.

On My Mind

Haven’t seen you yet

But I know your heady scent

The smooth texture of your hands

Your presence lingers, hovers

Weighs deliciously on my mind

Absorbs my fleeting thoughts

Keeps chills at bay

Warmth wafts through me

Like heated lotion

Balm for incessant need

Whispers for my fantasies

Haven’t seen you yet

But baby, I’ve been inside your skin

And you, in mine.

~quidrock 2005

Thanks to Cara of Ooh Books for hosting FreeVerse! Click on the link above for more.

My own poem - Hibiscus Near the Pond

Hibiscus are one of the big advantages of living in Florida... there are not many places in the US where they dot the landscape, but here they are plentiful. I've not had much success growing them, but they inspired this chain of haiku 7 years ago, when I had them in my garden.

Hibiscus Near the Pond

Mirror me in calm

Record my splendid colors

Beauty is doubled.

People pause to look
Enchanted by the blooms and
Sensual fragrance.

Fallen each eve,
The trumpets of my bounty
Are jewels in grass.

Morning unfurls new
Blossoms which will, again
Reflect in water.

Oh! To capture the
Rush of color near the pond
That is hibiscus.

~ quid 2003

Today's Poem... Me as Prisoner

some days are stones

I missed contributing a poem yesterday... and almost missed one today! It's due to work. Again. Yesterday was a stressful day that just can't be described. And, if I did try to describe it, I'd be stressed all over again. So I won't.

I had one of my own poems planned today, but I remembered this one and dug it out of the big electronic box of poems I've published here and there on the internet. Despite a difficult time at my current job, I remember how I felt during this period of time. I'd dug myself out of career hell and was working for an employee benefits firm that paid half of what I make right now. The workers there resembled slave labor. It was one of those jobs I endured. And while, I may not have made the all the right job choices then, I have managed to resurrect my career and am hanging on thru all the workplace turmoil. So I can look at this poem now, look at what has transpired at work in the last month or so, and realize that, at least, I no longer feel like a....

PRISONER AT A DESK

The outrage of being here, tied
By bonds and deadlines not of my making
To this spot, for long hours,
Sense of obligation and satisfaction

When work completed.

Blah, blah, blah.
Prisoner at a desk, I’ll admit it.
Tied here by the need of rent and food
Of bills to pay and gas to buy.
And what, you ask would come if

Those earthly things were magically
Given to me, not obligations to pay...
(Perhaps a lottery win,
A treasure found,
A sugar daddy uncovered??? )

Well, when that happens,
And I don’t doubt that it will,
I’ll be at a desk by choice
And perhaps
The texture and feel of WHAT I do
And WHEN I do it, shall be my own.
No longer at someone’s bidding.
Content to have sense of accomplishment
Coupled with self-set deadlines and missions.

Prisoner at a desk?
Held by my own need to be
Someone and something I’ve grown accustomed to.


Quidrock 2005

Today's Poem -- The Testicled Ones

A couple of years ago, we had a funny back and forth in email regarding women vs. men. It was based on a comment made in a writer's group (a lot of the people who read this have the group in common) called "Pearlsoup". This was part of my contribution to the madness... the latter verses being less poetic; so I didn't include them here. It's all in good fun, to my friends from the other gender!

Ode to The Testicled Ones


Great waves of testosterone.

Great days of carefree living.
Days of golf, of hunting, of drinking to excess.

Great tales of those excesses, to be shared
With the buddies, not the wifies.
Ah, men among men. The smell of it, once in awhile, the arrogance.

Great men are those who care about and for good women.
Great men are those who see beyond self and care for their own spawn
They’d never think of leaving all the care that comes with kids
To the ever-present, ever-popular girl they married.

Today's Poem - Momentary Love

**

Momentary Love

When I fall in love
It will be forever
Until the next time I fall in love
And then I’ll realize
That the need for me
To be
In love
Sometimes
Outweighs the reality.

When I fall in love
The momentary
Rush of headiness
The dizzy infatuation
The intense and fleeting pleasure
Yeah.
It’s enough.
Or is it?

**

Inspired by Chris Botti's recording of the song... "When I Fall In Love".... I lifted the phrase to start this poem. I haven't written much poetry this year, but this one fell into place.

Inhabit

Thanks to Cara of Ooh Books for hosting FreeVerse! Click on the link above for more.


One of those poems I wrote about life in general....

Inhabit


I inhabit
The skin that I’m in
And while
I would like there to be less of it
I’m comfortable.

I inhabit
The life I live now
I harvest the good
Emanating from the work that I do
I believe
That I make a difference
But not everyone buys in
I’m realistic.


I inhabit
The mantle of motherhood
Surprises and sacrifices
Of the first decade
Terrible mistakes made, the sorrow
Of the second.
The wisdom I have brought to the
Third decade
Of being someone’s mom.
I’m resilient.

I inhabit
The memories of what was
And spend a little
Time thinking of what will be
I’ll love again
I’ll inhabit
Other people’s memories
When the sands run out.
I’m satisfied.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Today's poem.... CAN ANYONE HOLD THEIR LIQUOR?

An odd poem for me... but I had a great time writing it. It's being "unveiled" today.

Can Anyone Hold Their Liquor?

Mixed our intellectualism with our booze
Our words steeped in vodka rocks.
Try to reach our hearts at twilight
Take us on flights of fancy
Test those egos, push that libido
Keep us safe from splendid stupor.
Be the obstacle to our own futility.

Left to our own devices,
Fell prey to the pull,
Indeed the magical song
Of the demon, our demon, our personal crutch
Submerging all of us in drowning.
As the poet once said
“….the colour of rain-water -- but is as hot
Inside the ribs as a burning firebrand”
Burn it did
And quite slowly.

~quidrock 2008

WRAPPED.... today's poem

I wrote this a year ago....

Wrapped

The time when you
Could break my heart
Has come
And gone.

I have wrapped it carefully
In fine linen and
Placed it in the pantry
Where you’ll not reach it.

Tempted? I won't be tempted
To give it again....
In a moment
Of heat and anguish.

~2009

Distracted...

Distracted by the beauty that is poetry for this month, the headlines and events of these days continue, as though there was no poetry.

I still cannot forget. I'm angry. I've been angry since 2003. Looking back now, knowing the truth, I can see I should have been angry long before that.






The Black Prince


And in five days, FIVE DAYS
Your need for vengeance your
Bloodthirst brought forward the vision
No time for sadness
You seek power you have a dream
You met the press your
Banner raised and the following craft
You executed
Executed on
The American Taliban a sign
Of things to come and this
While we dug for the bodies in the shadow
Of the Statue of Liberty
Liberty – just a word to you and yours
Yoo denounce Geneva
And Gonzales called it quaint
The JAG jagged and Powell protesting
In February of 2002 your grand master
Buried Geneva with the bones of things to come and
Liberty wept
Ali Soufan learned of KSM
By asking the right questions
And you had minions inform
that no Court of Crimes
Would gain our support for you had begun
The lawlessness that breeds coverup and
Donned the brown shirts and
Liberty bled into the bay as you washed
Away the evidence of interrogation so
Enhance, enhanced you say
The FBI found the bright line
And the fifteen rummy began at
Gitmo, washing the sins tropical and the
Prisoners wept into the blue waters of
The Caribbean
Your thoughts turned to Baghdad
where they had been since the beginning
you made certain
The regime on its knees and you were the victor
Finding the spoils to be volatile
You played puppeteer while Yoo launched the supremacy
Of the Commander
A preening poppycock
Of victory upset by Abu
Ghraib and denials began
Goldsmith fallen on his sword
A hero denied the heroism of withdrawal
And what could have been the end slipped
Away upon a black steed
Supreme intervention on Hamdi
First Mora and then Levin swordfought
Windmills and 2005 came
Zelikow’s words are scattered to the winds
And Justice wept
You caused press paralysis
And Congress checked out
Amnesty International raised the blood specter
To no avail
Your heart was hardened
The Senate betrayed the world with
The
Military
Commissions
Act
Of
2006
And you applauded
Vociferous in your victory
Young Obama protests loudly but in vain,still
the world buzz could not be silenced and
The Constitution wept and bled
You, the Black Prince, endorsed once more
The torture that will not be named and
The Red
Cross
Calls foul and then the leak
And your place in historic infamy grew wings
And still the Commander defends
Five years have gone by
And the world weeps.
War crimes.


Does the end
Justify the means?


You may say
I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one.
I dream of a land
Where this will never happen again.
Your dream stains our soil and denies
Our birthright
You, sir, are no American.

~quidrock 2009

My darkness

COBWEBS

Ghostly chamber here

Shrouded in dreams past their time

Will I escape it?

Can it be that I

Have trapped myself in habit?

Will I seek to change?

My future vision

Needs to depend on liberation

From my sad haven.

And escape I must

Lest I find myself surrounded

By days cloaked in cobwebs.

Kelly and the Haiku

I've got haiku all over the place, and crazy Kelly has me digging it all out. Some of it is on notebook paper, some on notecards...heck, I did publish some online. This collection is one of my faves...

Haiku for Booklovers






Soak In A Bath


Never, when I can
Have book time and immerse me
In fast mind escape.

***************************************

Books Can’t Die


Books can’t die or fall
prey to electronic beasts.
Books keep us earthbound.

************************************

Voracious

Bookworm, reader or
Forgetter of what needs me.
Reading on and on.



An Old Friend Jumps Out at You

You’re browsing and
Somewhat bored at the lack
Of books to choose from.

Then, electrified…
You see the long-forgotten
Cherished book, ahhh!


Symbol of Friendship


The spark of finding
That you both read yourselves
Groggy, into night.

Until it is done
And then, satiated a
Moment, you want more.

Of course, I speak of reading books!

Lend a friend one book
You cherish, and seal the bond
Of kinship, always.



A couple of famous people sound off on books:

"Where is human nature so weak as in the bookstore?" ~ Henry Ward Beecher

"Books to the ceiling,
Books to the sky,
My pile of books is a mile high.
How I love them! How I need them!
I'll have a long beard by the time I read them."

~Arnold Lobel

Awhile back... I gave this a shot....

I'm no Sharon Olds when it comes to erotic poetry...(see prior post), but I kind of liked the imagery:

Tango

When the night surrendered

…helplessly

to the soft shafts of dawn

streaking up through the cloak

of velvet darkness;

Then the power of the two

…merging, blending together

speaking sensually, senselessly,

without the need for words of

need and fear and longing.

Their voices, in tune…

And, as quickly as what would be done, began…

it finished, fading…

With one, rising, giving strength to day

And one, slumbering, dreaming of

Their coupling when dusk will come again.

Astral tango.

*

*

*

Crazy quote from the "Margaret and Helen" blog...completely unconnected to this post, but it tickled my funny bone":.....

"Honestly Margaret, I cannot believe that Susan Boyle went undiscovered for 47 years but that crazy Celine Dion has been wailing away for decades making millions. "

Yes, we can

We had one of those endless arguments on Pearlsoup about the issues in some of the Southern states where gay couples were not allowed to adopt children who needed them. I figured it to be a good time for "poetry as argument".

It Is The 21st Century




Families come in all shapes
And sizes.

What is right for you may not be
Fitting for me.

Open minds and hearts.
Synergy in sharing lives together.

There is no magic formula
No guarantee of happiness –

We aren’t placed in this world or the next
With a divine plan.

It is ours to make what we can
Of life and love. Of family.

Don’t tell me you are better
Equipped to raise your children than I am.

What we do in life is a measure of
Who we are inside, and not our demo-
Graphic.

Whether I am man or woman
Married or single
Young or old
Black or white or any shade at all.

Diversity.
Get it?

Quidrock 2003

It's always odd....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=debgoWX1tLU

I think that poets and writers have "favorite works" that are not necessarily as well-received as their material that is less personal. My own favorite was written in the aftermath of the reunion concert of Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel (you'll probably guess who I was more partial to!). The pair meant a lot to me in my formative years of late teens and 20's. I couldn't help myself but buy tickets to see them reunited, and I was not disappointed.

You may not like the poem as much as I do, because you don't have the underlying emotions of thinking back to what you were, when you first heard their music. And then again, you may be too young to know.....

MUSIC MAN

A minor deity walks among us

Dobro, cello and 12 string unravel his sounds

His hands cannot stay still

Unlike a singer who focuses on words

Leaving diaphragm diaphanously

Moved by sound needing to touch it

His words float among the rafters

They soar and his partner of the angel’s whine

Frosts them with magnificent cushions of harmony.

~~~


Soothsayer, poet, teller of tales



Maker of rhymes and those lines that don’t



We are humbled by the music, inspired by the words



Touched in a way we did not expect



Arrested are we, applauding endlessly



I stop to grip my heart.



Small of stature



Shaken by response and experience



Wearing his passion for his music “like a thorny crown”.


~~~


My simple act of grasping a memory



Bringing a dear one for a night of music



Becomes strangely alive with the soul and the sound of



This man, who with his songs, has touched lives and burned



Aging melodies into our very being.



Foreshadowing his eulogy he appears



An Old Friend



Made new again by the enormity



Of thousands of words grasping souls, taking prisoners.
Brought tears to thousands, peace to all



Shook us to our foundations



Never was much, he was just his father’s son.



I stand and remember, in awe.




~Quidrock 2003



Simon & Garfunkel – “Old Friends” Tour, the morning after