Sunday, March 18, 2018

My Truth/The Sunday Whirl World #343 -- Poets United

My Truth   

You ask, “How long did it take?”
My answer, “I have been practicing over 50 years.”
Again, “but, how long did it actually take?”
As if, it has been achieved
I said, “I am practicing still.”

The night was wild
Many coyotes, wolves, and other wild creatures
Pushed through the door
Filled the room
Remained in a heap

Were they called to come out
Were they cajoled
Were they all too close
What does it mean
Many hours alone working quietly

...Long hours
It has been no small feat
Each, one of a kind
No other like it
You open your eyes

I wait suspended like a "high-flyer"
Will you “see” it
Will it resonate for you
Or will you cringe
At my truth

March 18, 2018

Friday, March 16, 2018

Where Have You Gone/Son of Mine -- Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads

Where Have You Gone/ Son of Mine

This year it will be four years
Since you went away
Leaving a hole as big as the Rio Grand Gorge
I continue one foot in front of the other

I travel a new terrain
An empty space
Lonely, without a plan
Without a map or compass

How can we know
What lies ahead
How will we survive
Without the one we love

At the time
It didn’t seem possible
Not the “right” order of things
And still you left
Quiet, dignified

In the early morning
When I arrived
Your bed empty
I remember, the night before

How hard it was to leave you
I kept coming back
I inhaled you
Filled myself with the scent of you

As though I could keep just a little of you
I asked at the desk
And was assured
It was not time

I am empty now
My soul wanders
Seeks to find you
Howls in the wind

Stumbles over cactus
Lost in the sand
Will this be for eternity
Or just a little while

March 16, 2014

Thursday, March 15, 2018

Ask Not Who is in Charge/dVerse

Ask Not Who is in Charge
Who’s in charge?
You ask with straight-face
Ideas have words
You name them
They appear at your own will
I trust your discretion

March 15, 2018

Grace has asked us to write a Shadorma.  
So here's the thing with the Shadorma: it is a phantom form enshrouded in shadows and mystery. Poetry bloggers who introduce the form seem to copy/paste the definition from Wikipedia's own vague entry, but fail to back up what the Shadorma says it is. Word on the online street says that it is a Spanish form, though the name doesn't sound Spanish (like other "true" forms, such as the letrilla or the pareado) and I have yet to find one example written by a Spanish poet. I'm inclined to believe that it is a recent invention that, due to its enigmatic and alluring nature, has drawn in a cult following.

Let us dVerse poets be allured! Shadorma is a syllabic poem consisting of six-line stanzas. The pattern is 3-5-3-3-7-5, and you may write one stanza, twenty, or anywhere in between. In honor of its nebulous origins, I suggest the content explore the fog, the paranormal, the unexplained phenomena of life and death. Ultimately though, let the Shadorma lead you in what you shall write...and reveal.

Wednesday, March 14, 2018

Scream/Poets United Midweek Motif


The scream escapes my throat
I spin around
There is no one to address
My scream echoes
Against stone walls

The hot wind wanders through the canyon
Carries  my scream from the heart
To the desert
To be lost in the echoes
Of my sorrow

Just when I think I have successfully cast them out
They return
Sail in on hot scorching winds
Which blow sand into my lungs
Burn my feet on hot sand

Find their way into seeps
Dripping down stone walls
Travel small streams
Where they eventually reach the sea
Where they sail for eternity

I have heard others speak of hearing it
When least expected
Like banshees/ ear ripping
Sounds of sorrow
Blowing across the mesa

Perhaps the screams of today
Join the screams of yesterday
And return and return
Continually searching for their home
A place they will be welcome
And be cast out no more

March 11, 2018