Broken Pieces

searching shelled pecans
for broken pieces of goodness
leaving wholeness for later

 

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Tribute to Mary Oliver

Mary, Mary, Mary
through poetry
your noticing became mine

My poem was written at a Spirit Play session with InterPlay Atlanta.
Photo of sunset is a photo I snapped in my front yard.

The Fare

it is fair to say
the pair felt the fare was outrageous

to pare the fare
one of the pair took out a knife to pare his pear

the falling peelings sent an unmistakable message
which the cabbie quickly understood

to be fair, he pared his fare to half

I’m playing silly with words and a prompt from Writer’s Digest
Poetry Prompt, Write a Fair Poem.

 

 

 

Secrets

secrets can change lives
sharing them can, too

choose carefully

which secrets to share
which to hold close
which deserve a new story

each choice has its own value
choose carefully

Written in April 2018, many months before the Supreme Court nomination hearings.  My poem was written as I thought about family secrets and the
way lives can be changed by them.

 

 

Senses

What I’d give 
     to smell your aftershave
     to touch your hand
     to see your face
     to taste your mouth
     and hear you laugh again

 

 

Likes and Dislikes

I detest jealous bosses,
hateful gossips,
and the routinely late.

I like old graveyards,
flower-filled window boxes,
and secret doors.

I cherish
sitting for hours
talking with K.

 

My poem Likes and Dislikes came up as a Facebook memory today.  It was posted on September 23, 2012.  Although six years old, I decided to post today because it still rings true.  My talks with Kay are more often on the phone these days instead of in person, but our talks can still be hours long.  

 

Ancient Text

a crow’s cry cracked the silence
Sidra emptied her cup

even in this dark space
she saw that

the calligraphy was tinged
with red wine

a strap
bound the ancient text

she wanted to tap the secrets
of this fragile manuscript

to have her name
placed on the pages of history

 

Writing again with The Sunday Whirl.  I used all the
words in some form in my story poem.  The words are:
cup, calligraphy, bound, name, strap, cry, tap, space,
red, cracks, dark, tinged.  It is my joy to write a wordle!
The photo is by SusuMa in Pixabay.

New Place

desiring a new place
to set it down
to set me down

could I see my old place
with awakened eyes
with a new story

does needing a fresh start
require a new place
or would a divergent story suffice

 

Written in a workshop (Exploring Epiphany) led by
John Fox of Poetic Medicine.  We were to take inspiration
from a line in Fresh a poem by Naomi Shihab Nye.
I chose the line And set it down in.  We had about five
minutes to write a poem.

Figs

looking through my kitchen window

I notice my fig bush has grown
several feet since last summer

I can no longer pull down the top limbs
to harvest the ripe, brown fruit

when contemplating my figs, I usually think of
Middle Eastern markets, hillsides, and biblical stories

but today, I think of my mother
and her two great fig bushes

she canned fig preserves
delicious on her homemade, buttered biscuits

even the butter was homemade
when we lived on the farm

but the fig bush I thought of today 
was the one behind her well house

on the barren place we bought
after selling the farm

when lightning struck and killed her fig bush
she never planted another

to my surprise, she said she was allergic to the bush
and would get figs from friends

now it comes to me
I know what she meant

I’ve learned to suit-up with long sleeves
and long pants when I pick figs

not only sensitive to the leaves but also
the scent it spreads around itself

still, I never fail to don my clothes and harvest
the bounty of the bush’s summer sweetness

standing in the yard, I eat my fill
straight from its limbs

thinking of
by-gone-times and far away hills

Soar

his stomach knotted
as he recalled the pattern

his thoughts tightened
as he climbed the graveled path

he had trimmed his plans
to keep them simple and low-key

the ocean spray calmed him
as he walked the cliff’s edge

suddenly, he spread his arms
to soar

Writing with The Sunday Whirl this morning.
The whirl words are simple, trim, knots, gravel, low, spray,
path, edge, spread, tight, climb, and pattern.  I used all the
words in some form in my poem.