written words
read some
spring haiku
GATES
I wish there was a door I could close
like the giant metal gates
that a castle has
to keep unwanted visitors
out.
When the feelings arise
that I do not want
I wish I could pull the
giant door down and say
out.
Behind the door
I would rest my body against it
and take a breath of gratitude
for my fortress that keeps unpleasant
out.
I can walk about the rooms
dance and sing even
knowing that the watchful eyes
of judgement have been cast
out.
Reciting poetry and prose
that speak to the deepest
parts of my heart and soul
are safe even though they are
out.
This space allows me to feel whole
to know what it is that I want to share -
my talents and creativity,
my heart but once it is given, it is
out.
Within this safety,
I grow confident and then curious that maybe
there are others like me,
who close the door but really want to be
out.
Do I pull the chain that lifts up the door to my fortress?
Do I open up again despite the doubt?
Do I dare peek out?
Do I want what is out there to come in?
DUST
What if dust is really glitter?
And when it settles, the fractals
of silver, gold and all other
colors are what we see
when the light streams through
and shines on what
was once just dirty particles
of life left behind.
Run a finger through
the glitter dust
and leave behind a gully
of wood with sparkling boundaries
A dust glitter dipped finger
rotating side to side reveals
colors becoming luminescent hues.
The glitter dust finger
pressed onto a piece of white paper.
Held there and then lifted,
circular and curved infinite lines
make a print that
only belongs to one.
Held under running water,
dust glitter slides away into
the sink, fractals diluted by water
forever to be held in the pipes and
in the underground sewer,
in the rivers and in the ocean.
Fragments life left behind
swirling around with the fragments
of others.
LEFTER
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Writing a poem,” I answer.
“Why are you doing that?” he asks.
“Because I’m a writer,” I say.
“Not a lefter?” he asks.
CLEVER ARE THE PEOPLE
Clever are the people
who arrange their words into
interesting combos and cadences
for the whole world to read.
Clever are the people
who copy the images in their heads
onto a canvas with colors, or not,
for the whole world to see.
Clever are the people
who join musical notes with rhythms,
belting and blasting their souls
for the whole world to hear.
Clever are the people
who weave strings of cotton and wool,
creating strength and beauty
for the whole world to feel.
Clever are the people
who put oil in a pan and heat spices,
that sizzle on the tongue
for the whole world to taste.
Clever are the people
who scoop grinds into a sieve,
concocting an elixir and a vibe
for the whole world to smell.
Clever are the people
who take in the words written here
sensing whatever is needed
for only the whole world.