Shadorma is a poem of counted lines of syllables, like this: 3/5/3/3/7/5
Vacation
plus my same old life
plus you, friend–
wine, laughing
long walks, longer talks, good food,
the plain world blossoms.
Monthly Archives: April 2013
Plus: Vacation Shadorma
Hold That
Here at the Office of Catch Phrases, Cliches, Slang (All Types) and Mixed Metaphors, we are always working, Hard at it, No rest for the wicked, Nose to the grindstone, Concocting new expressions for your pleasure and overuse.
This week we are concentrating on new ways to say Be Patient. Wait A Minute. Don’t Rush In. You’ve used our golden oldies since God was a boy. Remember Hold The Phone, Hold Your Horses, Hold That Thought?
Now try these,new and improved—Hold That Boulder, for the deep breath before tackling a weighty problem. Or how about: Hold That Calamari, before plunging into a situation full of strange tentacles that may wrap you up, may drown you.
We invented Hold That Evergreen for you to use before picking up an idea that is sharp to the touch. This led us to many tree analogies. Such as—Hold That River Birch, for water thoughts and white memories. Or, our personal favorite, Hold That Willow, for the moment before you get lost in a daydream, the breath before you step into the cool, green shadows and stand quiet and drenched within the fall of leaves and water.
Thursday’s Tentative Elephants
First, one elephant
climbs on top of
the yellow Volkswagen.
Worried about his weight
and the clash of color,
yellow car, purple toenail polish,
he finds his precarious balance.
Then, one by one, from the long line
in the quiet street,
each new elephant
clambers up
till there’s a tower
of elephants
on that car—
Graceful or
Laughing,
On Tiptoes,
Awkward, or Humming,
each thinking their own thoughts—-
One multiplies fractions in his head,
another plans her European vacation.
The last elephant in line is basking in nostalgia,
remembering the old lion tamer
with his shabby mustache and his
pet monkey who hated all elephants.
And only the first elephant,
the one at the juncture
of yellow car and
gray bristled skin,
only he is Tentative
about this whole Arrangement.
And, honestly,
I can see why.
Darkness and Light
A pregnant teenage daughter,
poem so dark
you cannot find a candle.
Wait.
Three years pass
while the next stanza
Grows.
Now, this laughing child:
All bossy charm
and sidewalk chalk,
asking five hundred questions
while she blows her small breath
at the wind chimes
announcing that when the chimes play,
Everyone should dance–
Pouring light all over this house
so thick you dance slow
just to savor the view
through the glowing windows.
Kitchen Calendar
The green marker dries out
while I’m adding his varsity tennis matches
to spring vacation dates written in pink,
blue for music lessons,
purple for soccer league,red for band practice,
bright orange for prom,senior trip, graduation.
Here they are, the last few months
of color-coded life.
When this last child leaves for college,
the decades of multicolor
kitchen calendars will be over. His and hers,
games and concerts, practices, lessons,
rehearsals, field trips,Done.
I try to remember life with a one-color calendar,
and something shifts in me—-
like the way your mind turns
when you try to read about
Parallel Universes and realize these
scientists are serious, are truly asking
you to consider this possibility.
And I can’t say for sure what this feeling is–
Only that it is huge, like another universe
waiting behind the one I’ve walked in all these years.
Before You Arrive
You’re already on the plane
while I
lay out fresh candles, ready to glow
mop the kitchen floor, ready to echo with laughter
wash the good wine glasses, ready to be filled
polish this mirror, ready to reflect your shining face.
Puff Of Smoke Poems 