Author Archives: Puff Of Smoke Poems

Yesterday
out of the blue
a long day of cheerfulness
a mood in a yellow dress
carrying puppies and flowers
laughing oh she was all
the cliches at once
but still so welcome, this visit
from a long long long
lost self. Where did you come from?
was the question I
almost
asked all day but didn’t
in case it startled the smile off her face

from this snow stubbled field
ragged edged weeds, distant tree line
all cold white dust. Watch.
A mysterious signal whispers Rise
to the dark foraging flock, as one,
As One, the birds rise and circle the barn
and your heart lifts with them, rises
above the roof line, rises above the silo,
rise and
rise and
rise till we are
all
out of sight

white field broken by
headstones, iced moss, your footprints
cemetery snow

whispered bird tracks
beneath the redbud tree
Look up
picture blossoming May and
wonder–did the birds look up too?

In the ditches, melted snow
glistens the stones
echo of summer rain
when this becomes a sunlit brook.

Midwinter is only
bleak when seen from
indoors. Go outside
Feel the world against your skin

A note
to that bitten-off place of lack in your soul,
struggles stitched in place to cover the hole.
Bow to the struggles
Bow to the lack
Each deserves its time in this world
When you Banish what you feel,
It returns.
Instead, take its hand (that small, cold hand)
outside the doors, where there is wind
where there is weather to be felt.
Encourage that sadness, that worry, those fears
to look up
into the deep blue of twilight or
dawn. Point out how the street lamp
glows brighter against the dark
how the strings of lights make
the neighborhood shine.
Don’t look away, or list all you lack.
Love the light
and acknowledge
the darkness
Bow to how they illuminate
Each other.

For the coming year, resolve
your self to attend the moments.
Give the sweet and still seconds your focus
rather than tending the buzzing bees of Planning.
But do not swat away those busy,
well-intentioned bees.
Instead, offer a kind suggestion.
Place a new thought into their rushing minds, their
quivering planning bodies so ready
to make honey, to store honey, to prepare
to make a plan for more honey to be prepared…
Stop. Breathe. Suggest gently
that perhaps along with the carried pollen of plans
each bee might settle for a moment
one quiet moment
burrowed head first
into the center of the blossom
of now.

Written in response to a prompt from The Sunday Whirl

On the other side
of the Door of Light
is where we heave ourselves
chattering, screeching, beseeching
always wanting
to come back from the dead.
Patience. There are patterns to follow
secret files on how to stitch
anatomy’s net back together
and reload for another spin

no people no elves
no reindeer only
evergreen-topped hills
nestled lakes,
a whole quiet world
with a thick crisp of frost
An ordinary morning in
our snow globe world
waiting for what happens
(in other words)
yet to be shaken

Sharply colder
in the night
while many slept
but
trust me
you’ll notice
the minute you leave home.
Something is changed in the air

dreamed I tucked my heart
away, outside my body,
into a blue pottery mug
usually reserved for pens
and loose coins
Crooked-cut
from red construction paper
small and bendable
it could fit anywhere
I chose to send it