Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Writing Poetry before 9 pm

and so they say
staring at a screen late at night
keeps you up, watching the minutes and hours
pass by on the brightly lit alarm clock at the side of the bed.
I watch every one, keeping my eyes open and
wondering why each moment
seems endless and my husband
snores gently on my side.
they say not to stare at
screens late at night
count sheep with your eyes closed shut
boredom helps one sleep
turn off the screen
turn off life's worries and
sleep

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

the power of praise


practicing was different tonight,
a new recognition of the spirit
inside
waiting for
explicit permission to sing out,
or at least to be noticed, a nod in her direction
would be appreciated, instead
of the hang dog look from
missed notes.
in the end, let us all be carried away
as if in the arms of a winged
goddess, her flute and
harp singing
into the
wind.

Monday, March 23, 2015

Blues at Ball, Happiness at Home

in one day,
the skies fell and
the heavens opened,
a spacecraft lost,
a daughter gained.

Sunday, March 22, 2015

Quoi dire, quoi ecrire

deux bouteilles de champagne
du bon pain, du fromage, mêmes des châtaignes
que je n'ai pas goûté depuis plusieurs années.
La dernière fois pendant que j'attendais mon cousin
qui faisait une course de ski de fond.
J'avais tellement froid.
J'avais 18 ans, tellement jeune, innocente.
ce soir, nous n'en avons pas parle, nos jeunesses.
maintenant, nous portons de petits bides,
les cheveux gris, peut-être caches, mais
tout le monde sais que nous les avons.
mais, tant pis, la vie est courte, laisse-nous
notre bon rouge, du camembert, des noisettes,
des amies, le français pas bien parle, mais
amusant quand même.

Friday, March 20, 2015

I can still see

I can still see her crooked pigtails,
(like the ones I had at her age)
her wide smile and freckles,
how chubby she was, how determined,
so regal.
I remember her awkward walk,
her hands sticking out in front of her body
like a robot, chin jutting forward, only
a bag filled with school books kept her
from falling forward.
One day her hands fell back to her
sides and she walked like a princess,
so regal.
I remember not so long ago when she
headed east alone towards her future,
she looked back briefly towards me,
I waved and she smiled.
So regal.

Thursday, March 19, 2015

The cutest baby ever

a hippo only
a few hours old and the cutest baby ever,
with her little ears and soulful eyes,
a triple chin and webbed feet,
glistening skin and pulsating nostrils.
she's the cutest baby ever, never mind
all the humans who think their baby is
cute with splotchy skin and distorted head,
slits for eyes and just plain ugly, 
this baby is so cute, she's French.
I think that's how they say it.
Je pense qu'il le disent comme ça.

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Spring has sprung


and so
spring has sprung by the back fence,
and along the hedge, next to the house
and across the neighborhood.
a sprinkling of pollen invites the bees
awakening from their rest, they wobble
unsteadily emerging from hollow sticks,
a bee box screwed to the east facing post.  
the sun has warmed them
and us, a black dog basking in the sun,
a tall glass of beer, a bottle of red wine,
a loaf of bread and a wedge of Brie,
we'll drink and eat to the sun and 
the summer, not far behind.