Dogs

For my sister Christine, who wanted a poem about dogs.

Dogs

Retriever, Mastiff, Yorkshire,
Come give me a kiss.
Chihuahua, Beagle, Corgie
These cuties can’t be missed.

Nate, Snoop, Swamp,
Give me some more ear bliss.
Fifty, Juvenile, Xzibit,
Oh, I like it like this.

Prairie, ground squirrel or gophers,
Call them what you will,
So long as these awful little rodents,
Stop munching on my hills.

Andirons: just two metal rods,
Hold up my burning fire logs,
Or clamps that hold down hogs,
Or clutches that lock the cogs.

Canis Major or Minor – Sirius,
Hanging out upstairs with Polaris,
You illuminate our stories, our dreams,
Shining so mysterious.

Whether you’re hunting bounty,
Or chilling with Woodstock and Patty,
Persistently, We love you all,
day in day out, making our lives less banal.

–-

Follow me down the rabbit hole:

http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/dog
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dog_(disambiguation)

LADIES

For all the ladies in my life, because we are in this, together.

LADIES

Do not apologize,
for forgetting to tweeze,
for disheveled hair or battle scarred knees–
lips are prettiest not stained by lies.

Do not apologize,
For a sharp tongue or skeptical eye,
Don’t falter, keep your voice strong,
Head held high, carry on.

Do not apologize,
for liking pink– or not, own your choices,
Or for thinking any thoughts you think–
Be true to hungry inner voices.

Do not apologize for eating that roll,
Or rolling your eyes at that stupid troll,
Or wearing a dress, Or having sex,
Or not– none are metrics of worthiness or respect.

Do not apologize for your past,
for sarcasm and sass,
the incredible you is all the
pieces, good and bad, amassed.

Don’t reduce yourself to a trope,
or to just one simple thing,
You have worked to hard to climb this rope,
So grip hard and keep clinging.

Swallow your silly sorries.
Leave behind those ticks and commas,
Speak with purpose and periods.
Be your own feminine serious.

Walking out at dawn,
See your fellow knights in armor strong,
In their eyes find solidarity,
Support them unwavering –
Knowing she shares your shoes,
is the pinnacle of clarity.

Follow me down the rabbit hole:

Inspired by the excellent Maya Angelou and the shitty things women get harassed for online, and by the man who told me “It’s man’s work. No. you. can’t.”

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/phenomenal-woman/

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/online-feminists-increasingly-ask-are-the-psychic-costs-too-much-to-bear/2015/02/19/3dc4ca6c-b7dd-11e4-a200-c008a01a6692_story.html

Phenomonal Woman (Maya Angelou)

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can’t see.
I say,
It’s in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
‘Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

S p a c e s

S p a c e s

Fingers flit across frets —
Strong oaks, hummingbirds zipping,
I see them and smile,
Thinking of you.

In ribbons of smoke, that leech
from embers, and rise to wrap
the moon in an invisible embrace,
I imagine you, ghost.

In soft faces that light up —
Christmas in June, delighted by
crinkling wrappers and white hot sparklers,
your face slips in and shines, a mirage.

In the bent of shoulders,
stooped quietly, steely gaze, and
tranquil moments, between silences
and sunrise, there is only you.

When bark scratches my calves,
stained green by blades —
and night shines over my camp,
I know we share this moment too.

At breakfast, savouring warm
oats and morsels of day old bread,
sitting happily on dewed logs,
Feel your sweet gentle gaze.

Follow me down the rabbit hole:

Inspired by Pablo Neruda, a fantastic Chilean poet, best known (in english) for his love poems. http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/it-s-good-to-feel-you-are-close-to-me/#content

Two steps forward, one step back

Two steps forward, one step back

Even at the open,
we were not equals,
starters gave signals,
from different pistols.

Already two steps behind,
No one’s fault but
mine – see your mother held you
backed you, with love.

But love was not enough,
to pull you closer to me,
In the stacks, a young sapling flourished,
as my mind learned to unknot the tether.

But the leather held you firm,
No trees, no books, nothing to
kindle your spark, your start,
steadily, I inched ahead.

No security, all concrete, all bars,
you got cornered helpless, forgotten by Fortuna,
pulled in by the man with the bandanna,
and so you took one step back.

I swirled the sluice,
knowing I could only take one,
as you looked on, longing –
for the chance to hold the dirty pan.

Grey and bent,
I did stop to look back,
and there was no trace,
Not even a footprint,
To mark the start, that place,
where they did strike the flint,
where once we stood nearly together.

Follow me down the rabbit hole:

Privilege is a mighty thing friends.

No.

Poetry month 21, written only for me.

No.

I detest the rules you’ve
given me,
for living in
your modern society.

A road that began before
I did, before — she did,
a path laid out for us,
from cradle and from crib.

We peered through bars,
At concrete and bungalows and cars,
The ominous foreshadowing,
Of all what might soon be ours.

March two by two or
single file into the school,
learn to prize but noble and those gases,
for only these arts will win a modern duel.

But what of the subtle notes,
in paint, writ in song – hope
strewn across pages, should they be
left alone, forgotten tropes.

So the troops soldier on,
out the door, across the lawn,
Ferried in four by four chariots,
To work until – awake, dawn yawns

For to buy, to buy, to buy,
but why?
what cavern do we seek to fill
a hole that lingers even still

Tech has failed to make
that missing connection, links –
are no substitute
for a full flesh, all errors, embodied person.

Stand up, tuck in,
Fit in, be in,
To this box,
never-mind, you circle.

If this is cart destiny brings,
one full of empty hollow things,
cutting the strings,
will be receiving the gift of wings.

Follow me down the rabbit hole:

Sometimes normalcy is tiring, no?

Swoosh

For Dayley and her Colorado Mountains.

Swoosh

Suck it in – high
On top of the top
of the top of the world,
So near and yet –
So very,
very
far away.

Graceful, gentle, sloping
Evergreen Afghans
folded just for you
inviting you into their fold
into their gentle curves
tempting you with their bumps

That mother she has given you
the strangest gift
air wrapped in promise
lands you want to
be and see and touch
all at the same time
up close and far away

On top, You want to know
to feel, each corner
With the pines, hearts climb up
Downward, fly downward, aimless
Winds grow tongues
and lash your face
Snow clings in every crease
Crusted in hair, it frosts lashes

A cycle of desire,
Pulling you up,
and Sending you down.

Follow me down the rabbit hole:

Remember

For my mother’s dear friend, and for anyone, who needs needs a gentle reminder.

Remember

You are built of strength
it fills the
spaces between your cells
it is etched into you eyes
Some days the rolling tides
get the best of each of us
and on those days my friend
Fall– and let me catch you
In my cradle weaved with
warm threads of love because
some day
I will need you
to be my parachute too.

Follow me down the rabbit hole:

Poetry Month #19.