Holding death,
I said, without logic,
“I hate
That she is out there
Cold, dark, alone,
Under all that dirt.”
You replied, without reason,
“She loved
Sleeping in small, dark,
Quiet spaces,
She’ll be okay.”
You simply joined me,
Sincerely,
Without hesitation,
I knew then,
That some part of us
Had survived.
–a.r.
Drawing by EVEV on deviantART.com
Today I did not hate you, little one. I found you dying and held you in my arms until it was over. Today I hated suffering and death. Rest in peace little Annabelle, you were a sweet girl. I am grateful that you did not die alone.
As many times
It made me
Sing
My God
Impermanence
Still sires a sting
– A.R.
My little cat Annabelle passed away today suddenly. It is going to be a hard day for this family.
I have been playing with the #tweetkuchallenge on Twitter. Here are some of my haikus, inspired by their daily prompt, idea or word. They are not perfect form, but I had fun. Happy Poetry Month.
Brotherly love
An empty motto without
My hand extended
You brag
To friends while I gather
Shattered pieces
It is time to play
With fortune and my future
Bet it all on odd
My optimism
Is only me holding my
Pessimism lightly
No organizing
Us, only observations
Of ghosts floating by
You gave a flower
Made from yellow pipe cleaner
Formed not fixed, thank you
-a.r.
A spring breeze
Gathering
Bites and bumps
Goosing my skin
Battling the sun
For ownership
Of this flesh I’m in
Stirring my psyche
Swirling my self
Around its fingers
Wickedly twisting
The towering trees
Bending beside me
Just enough to release
Their creaking
Sing-song screaming
Like joint and bone
From sitting too long
Still I stay, still
Changing with the wind
Breathing together
Until I am gathered
Made whole
Once again
-a.r.
Ill Omen by Frances MacNair
I wrote this two years ago near the beginning of the public sharing of my poetry. It still speaks to me. Happy Poetry Month.
Look at me
Read my words
Fold me up
Place me
In your back pocket
Or your shirt
Closer
To your vital organs
Or crumple me
Throw me
In the trash bin
Either way
I will still be here
Giving you words
Of (dis)comfort, strength
Waiting for you
To notice
Something valuable
To you
From me
There are captains and pilots imperfect
There are creations and vessels unsound
There is not a God choosing this one or that
Or which horse to unhinge on what round
There is chaos and change all around us
There is a timepiece inside ticking fast
There are no honest methods to hold to it all
Only handfuls of now slipping past
There are spectacles sliding down noses
There are fittings quite fashioned too small
There are always malfunctions inside mechanisms
Our essential ambitions can barely forestall
–A.R.
Steampunk Carousel Sideshow by Taneshi on deviantART.com
I cuddle closely when I nap
A thing I cannot do at night
Daylight provides me cover
When in darkness I find flight
–a.r.
Bats by Leah Solnier
Inspired by an Easter crash and cuddle.
Happy Easter, Happy Spring, Happy Poetry Month! This was my first posted poem two years ago…she is making an appearance again for Easter.
Quiet, soft, unassuming
Barely a noticeable twitch
Give her long enough
She will harbor sickness
Take a bite out of your best laid plans
She sits frozen as you approach
Empty eyes of endless inky night
Not even she is aware of when she will bolt
Her space, the stuff of legends and fairy tales
Buried unseen under your feet
Waiting to break an ankle
Or turn your world on its head
–April Resnick
Not So White Rabbit by Grace Slick
I will not censor part of me,
Which begs to be expressed,
Because it shatters the illusion,
And reveals the human mess.
There is no way around it,
Only the wading through,
Up to my neck in all of it,
Is all I know to do.
Perhaps I’ll sit a moment,
Just be with the stink and then,
Investigate bacteria,
‘Till I get up and move again.
I see all of you around me,
Also trying to make sense,
I can’t look away and decorate,
Or try to cover up the stench.
I do not mind the stopping still,
To have a look around,
Being with the shit that bubbles up,
Is the only way I’ve found.
To engage this life and all of it,
As it presents itself to me,
I’ll just use it as fertilizer,
Composting crap creatively.
–A.R.
Woman at Mud Volcano 2 by Natasha Prosenc
Because sometimes people wonder why I write about “certain things” that perhaps they think should stay private. My answer, because it happened, because it comes up, because it is part of life, because staying silent about any of it simply causes isolation. Isolation for myself and for others who have a similar experience. I have been silent at the wrong times, about the wrong things, for too long. Silence for me will stay “on the cushion” and that is it.
sometimesihatemycat 