InViolated Love
they say that mother love
is inviolate love - bonds
impossible to break -
gifted to and from
this creature rolling
in waves within -
bursting from loins in
blood and ecstasy -
unknowable this mother
love - a mystic business
connecting cry to milk
pain in you own heart
when you mistakenly
prick it with a misnamed
safety pin - until you
stab it with a safety pin
feel its pain shiver in
your spine - shimmer on
this mystic mother love
as it rides a two wheeler
and you scream in joy
watching from a window -
feeling the wind in your
hair as his blows - at a
graduation - a first
ride in a car - first
love - a walk down an
aisle beaming - on and
on as it throws tiny
burgeoning large and
muscled - baby skin
giving way to peach
fuzz and unmistakable
fur - ah those arms
around you - here and
there through a gazillion
breaths taken in concert
this mother love - inviolate
marching on even when
inevitably as such things
must be the creature - infant
boy - now man machetes
the cord - careful if still
connected to your entrails
mother love - mystic -
connection that must
be disentangled gently at
each milestone juncture
of the loving journey
Tuesday, April 26, 2016
Sunday, April 24, 2016
NaWriPoMo - Day 18. A poem in the language of home... Sssssssh - your father
Sssssssssh – your father…
"Ssssssh your father..."
is getting ready for dinner
Ssssssh your father....
is eating at the table ...
silverware clinks, quiet
gulp of cool water
swallowed – he breathes
"Ssssssh your father ....
is going to the living room
to relax ...I follow and...
is going to the living room
to relax ...I follow and...
sit ...there next to this king
this raven haired young
man as he placed ruby
records on the player –
and there – sitting next
to him … music crashed
shook the walls and
my small chest as I leaned
against the solid wall of
him and he cradled me
with an arm and I smiled
sssssh to them all….
Friday, April 22, 2016
The Pass-over
The Pass-over
I walk through the sands of time
beneath my feet slipping through
my fingertips – feel the gritty soft-
sepia – I sing four questions to my
grandfather keeping the trembling
desire for perfection away from joy
in his shining eyes – I walk the sands
of time with them in small books in
the hands of elders reading, - those -
patriarchs and matriarchs and
children of long ago stir in our
very blood and sit for a time at
our table among the fine linen
and dishes piled high with food
cooked with love and laughter
together in the scrubbed kitchen
I walk through the sands of time
my actual elders retelling the story
as I watch the crystal glass sparkle-
filled with sweet crimson wine set
aside – peek - feel the breeze of the
front door ajar – in welcome for
the possible entrance of an angel –
I walk the sands of time – as some
slip under –foot-prints vanish into
hearts – I walk the sands of time
teaching tiny hands to hold a small
book, cut meat for a parchment elder -
listen to the mystical miraculous
listen to the mystical miraculous
music of my own son sing in a high
clear voice the questions that I
answer – I watch the table shift
again –new family constellations
bright eyed well loved welcomed
children and love and laughter -
and the same questions asked -
and answered and crystal clinks
and laughtered songs and sand
slips and shifts and slips and shifts
the glimmer of the sepia shimmer
always moving all in the past un-
known but retold - pharaohs and infanticide
plagues and pyramids, parting seas and sacred
bushes - leaders, legends and legacy
injustice and resilience- exodus tumbling-
to tablets, smashed, castigated and
contrite, connected, walking through
sands of time the richness embraced the
walk continued - tasted again and again
in caves of inquisition -in the tortured
camps of death - the sands of time
known but retold - pharaohs and infanticide
plagues and pyramids, parting seas and sacred
bushes - leaders, legends and legacy
injustice and resilience- exodus tumbling-
to tablets, smashed, castigated and
contrite, connected, walking through
sands of time the richness embraced the
walk continued - tasted again and again
in caves of inquisition -in the tortured
camps of death - the sands of time
sifted shifted into the dance of a land,
into this land, onto these privileged lips -
through the sands of time
the legacy sweet as sipped wine…
unbreakable - unshakable -
into this land, onto these privileged lips -
through the sands of time
the legacy sweet as sipped wine…
unbreakable - unshakable -
I walk the sands of time
tonight at a table for
two –
hundreds of hundreds of thousands -
hundreds of hundreds of thousands -
walking through shifting sand in-
to a promise....
the walk
continues
the walk
continues
Sunday, April 17, 2016
NaPoWriMo - Day 6. "Snowball Summers" flower poem
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Hydrangea Free Stock Photo - Public Domain Pictures |
Snowball Summers
I called my grandmother
Mother -because she had
been too young to be a
grandmother - (though
later my own mother re-
vealed that she reviled
the rejection) -Mother's
hair was ebon pincurled
and at forty two she was
without qualm - setting
me, tiny granddaughter
free, alone - scrunching
in the wet perfume of her
snowball bushes- lush-
in that park of her back
yard - in that cool leafy
filagree-light darkness -
mystic wishes worthy
of any silvered grand-
mother floated all day
on hot summer breezes
NaPoWriMo - Day 17. Freud’s glossary of psychoanalytic terms - specialized dictionary
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Sigmund Freud | Think Psychology |
Freud’s glossary of psychoanalytic terms
He lay there on my couch
the first fellow never knew
that the couch upon which
he sprawled was purchased
with his long limbs in mind-
Never knew that he was my
First,whispering abreactions
in that small room – on that
new couch smelling of fresh
unworn leather and cathexis
our collective unconscious not
yet collected as, virgin analyst
sat stealing glances in a small
mirror strategically placed so
that I could watch my counter-
transference – exhale the con-
densation of the drive driven
dreams with which perhaps un-
known to him he stroked each
erotogenic zone along the length
of my earliest days censorship–
on high alert - alone with him
as he lay there on my couch
my first of so very many –
ego, id, super-sized-ego –
Mr. ____ _____ _____ -
the one that would never –
could never ever be -
forgotten.
Morning -
Morning
I stretch check a hole in
my left sock - lost until
first sight this morning
when it lay on my chest
- testament to forget-ting
or phantasma .. pull it on
over my how-can-it- be
getting-old-foot, shake
feathers from my head
left over from a night
of deep dreams and
rise to rattle into an-
other day
Labels:
Morning inspired by wordle words
Friday, April 15, 2016
NaPoWriMo - Day 6. "Chocolate Kisses" - Food Poem
They might as well have lips
into my parted lips
they insinuate one
after the other in
a madness of un-
quenchable lust
until shining in
silver slivered
wrapping I lay
slightly sick
certainly
smiling
NaPoWriMo - Day 5. "Linaria, Fairy Bouquet" Heirloom Seeds
Linaria, Fairy Bouquet
you float ferny
delicate dancing
flitting gossamer
a fairied bouquet
tossed on the wind
NaPoWriMo- Day 4. "November" - the cruelest month
November
raucous riot of color
crisp air - perhaps a
wafting toasted chest-
nut - crunching - bright
with a feast at its end -
all introduction to bare
iced march of winter
approaching on dead
legs
NaPoWriMo- Day 3. "Dear Younger Me" - fan letter
Dear Younger Me
I must take the opportunity
so granted to shower you
with gratitude for choosing
to take the plunge into those
aquamarine waters so very
long ago - when our belly
was flat and our horizons
endless. I must take this
opportunity to tell you that
as you knew with such -
certitude and attitude - that
was the absolute correct
moment to inhale the frangipani
air and float into years of sailing
on crystal waters - You changed
our lives - with your twenty- year
old wisdom - carpe dieming our
soul sealed with possibility for-
ever
Thank you
Older Me...
NaPoWriMo- Day 1. 4 Lunes (2 Kelly - 2 Collum) Lune ...
~
there out the window
on a branch
harbinger of spring
~
you calling to me
screechingly
scraping my heart raw
~
in the whispered wind
I hear you
calling softly 'Come'
~
she sat in the rain
sopping summer dress
drying her tears
~
there out the window
on a branch
harbinger of spring
~
you calling to me
screechingly
scraping my heart raw
~
in the whispered wind
I hear you
calling softly 'Come'
~
she sat in the rain
sopping summer dress
drying her tears
~
NaPoWriMo- Day 2. - "Family Portrait" - family portrait
Family Portrait*
In miniature now
that count - an we
not related by blood
except for the warfare
of the heart that ripped
all asunder and left us
to bleed and bandage
heal and love again
together.
*not quite autobiographical
NaPoWriMO - Day 11 - "Oliver" - object and ending
Oliver
cat
persons say he chose us
at
five weeks – puff of coal
at
the doorstep in the rain
pouring
– we were German
Shepherd
people – and all
the
shepherds had gone to
their
elysian fields –leaving
us
free to Kerouac it any-
time
we chose – cat persons
say
he chose us five years
ago
– slid into our lives as an-
other
person an interesting
roomie
– with no ostensible
bad
habits – no dropped fur
scratching,
meowing, lap-
sitting
or drooling – aware
of
anything out of place –
an
errant fleck of paper
a
drop of water fallen to
the
floor – a chair turned
slightly
more left or right –
all
such caused that stare
my
father’s eyes returned to me.
NaPoWriMo 2016 - Day 12 - "Index - Free Association - Abyssinian Love " Index Poem
Free
Association – Abyssinian Love
Abyssinian
– the kind of cat I imagined would recline on my chest purring.
Argument
began as an offhanded remark about
feline similarities
Bonded intertwined this sudden sense of
connection
Blended as
smooth cream
Capucian
on the screen a small screech of an
infant primate
Cappuccino
foolishly connecting a vision of cinammoned foam
Desperate reaching for the kindred connection
Deliberate arch of the spine and opening of the eye
Edifying gleaning that the glint that was – no
longer beckons
Egregious this long lasted now comrade union of two
Frankly fed up with the one who is more me than
myself
Fantastic that decades have piled onto one another a
Golem shadow of the two who clutched at each
other
Gorgeous in lush, lusty, loving
Hilarity rolling from lips and hips
Horrific the thought that ever it would different
Idiosyncratic
this love we agreed
Inane and
innocent this certainty of endless delight
Justifiy
that all eventually come to this
point
Juxtapose
an overlay of two slim nudes over two
bundled
Kite that sweet red silk flying in a blue
sky out the window
Kettle that
copper whistle blowing ready
Lithe the sinuous stretch of the cat
Lucid suddenly clear
Manic need
for the past vanished
Mechanism of love clicking solidly and sheerly lovely
Negligee
of our dance
Nightmare away from the terror of isolation
Odious the thought of the other gone
Oxymoron smile at this contradiction of love the one
you wish gone
Pearlescent patina shimmers in natural light
Perilous that now passed desire to examine
Quixotic our converged coupledom
Queenly my image reflected in those eyes
Riesling sparkling in the crystal glass
Risen those for a moment flagging spirit
Succubus
within receding, melting in the warmth
Succulent the decades piled one upon the other
Treacherous
pulling apart the years, to minutes of now
Truculent
never in the fading light
Undulating that cat within and across the room
Universal slinking, sashaying, jump
Vacuous no longer in the appreciation of the
absence of
Vitriol never part of the conversation or
connection
Winsome laying there on the couch
Wisp of aquamarine tropical shores
floating nude
Xanthous daisies dotting deep green field
Xylophone chimes in the clear crisp air
Yesterday a song, a dance, a love
Yucca succulent
Zen serene
Zodiac
impossible, magic, mystic, as the
eye of an Abyssian – us
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