Category Archives: Uncategorized

Wild Violet

Picture a tall, laughing girl
cause of sleepless nights for parents
girl like a feast for the gray lady gossips
Long black hair and purple nail polish
always dressed for the party
Somehow both a tight dress and a motorcycle
No one knows how she manages
but they shrug and she smiles and says
Let’s Go. That’s just how Wild Violet is.

Instead, these small blossoms
deep purple, pale purple, white,
peek from the grass, lovely and hidden
dreaming who knows—warm dirt and rain?
Or humming to themselves, turning
towards the sun in a perfumed haze
memory of another self—
jazz bands and martinis and
that reckless smile.

The True River

Written in response to a word list from the site Red Wolf Poems

The mallards always told me
magic wasn’t in the cards—faithless magic,
with its trumpeted tricks and striped wands,
scented and false as dolls. Magic that promises
Fire, torrents of Possibility, loud cascading tides of
sleight of hand, disguising the hard kernel of trick
written in dark ink at the center of the river.

All talk.
This true river has no center, only currents textured by
oars, stones, weeping willows striping the banks.
Forget magic. Follow the mallards who know
the river so well, their glowing selves swimming
Home, whole lives swimming in the muck-thick mists
of this real world.

Magic isn’t in the blood, this empty scenery. Forsake
Artifice, forsake the gramophone’s tinny melody
camouflaging the music of the river. When you Dance,
Dance through the dual worlds.
Forsake the blare of magic tricks for unknowing,
for the bend in the river,
for mallards moving in and out of this cage
the bars limpid, impermanent.
The cage door always open.

 

Sanctuary

Last night’s only dream
was of waking at your house
in a soft green bed
breathing Calm
with the rippled lake
flowing below my window.
And then I woke
Exactly where I’d Dreamed.

Hotel Air

Windows sealed shut.
One side, my side,
blank conditioned air—
On the other side, the world:
Sky full of thick clouds
Tree thick with clouds of white blossoms.
A breeze I can’t feel
Moves through the branches
Where meandering bees buzz
Even if I can’t hear them.

Teacher Appreciation

Paul brought me
his cheerful grin
and a bouquet
of mall flowers—
twelve quiet yellow daffodils
and one red tulip

Waiting In Line At The Dump

In the high open rafters of the
recycling center, a swallow’s
nest built entirely from old
envelopes, shredded news,
beauty tips and tinsel

Spring Wind

Stirred up Spring, all Night
Wind rattles the window panes
Change is in the Air

Late April, Early Morning

birds sing in the trees
before leaves or nests, sing though
the world is still dark

Pillows

Today I worry about pillows
lugged through life by my children.
My children
Who wander the world,
each with their pillow
tucked beneath an arm.
Remember how I cradled
their sweet and sweaty heads
when they woke from naps?
Naps in clean soft beds I made.
I remember. Them? No, they are
Busy
balancing those pillows
while they walk
Busy
ignoring the hovering
worrier who watches to see
where their pillows rest tonight.

Long-Range Forecast

Now, sleepy as a seed
buried deep in spring mud
dreaming lazily of this
week-end’s house party, full of
old friends and anticipation.
The forecast:
Warming Trend Straight Ahead.

A Hundred Falling Veils

there's a poem in every day

The Novel Bunch

aka: The Happy Bookers

Red Wolf Prompts

I came to where you were living, up a stair. There was no one there.--John Ashberry, "The New Higher"

typewriter rodeo

custom poems on vintage typewriters

A Poet in Time

One Poet's Writing Practice: Poems by Mary Kendall

Writing the Day

A Ronka Poetry Practice Since 2014

Invisible Horse

Living in the moment