How do we change our culture
From one to next, each generation
It is as much with giant leaps
As incremental machinations
— a.r.
Zen by Richard Roberts
Fits and Starts
•January 23, 2014 • Leave a CommentThat’s Life
•January 22, 2014 • Leave a CommentOur schedule’s not our own these days
In truth I know it never was
But the illusion of control felt nice
A make-believe warm blanket blinding us
— A.R.
Photograph by Rodney Smith
Ebbing
•January 21, 2014 • 5 CommentsI miss the sea
Her brine in my sinuses
Clearing, cleaning, leading me
Towards her lace, chasing
The weightlessness that lingers
Deep in my brain and bones
After floating free in her belly
The taste of her tears on my tongue
Disguising the salt of my own
Crystals glinting, coating my flesh
For hours after I have left her side
The tiny sands she leaves behind, twining
My hair reminding me to let her stay
Thick, unwashed, and wild
The ache from who I was, unburdened
When I was with her
I miss the sea
— A.R.
Married to the Sea by Clare Elsaesser
Outside My Window (repost)
•January 21, 2014 • Leave a CommentSnowflakes and crows
My thoughts with the trees
Chase after each other
On the wintrey breeze
Black feathers crisp
Against hills covered white
Sun blotted out by the grey
Tops of trees swaying slight
Bare branches like arms
They are reaching for me
Embraced by chilly dark dancing
Of snow, crows, and trees
All at once wrapped in a silence
Bundled up by the drift
Minuet moves to stillness
Like those mountains, I sit
— A.R.
Photo taken by me in Keystone, Colorado
(Reposted in honor of the snow coming our way today.)
My Bug
•January 20, 2014 • Leave a CommentMy daughter is sick
Soon I will be too
Cuddle and hug
Nothing else I can do
A back rub here
And a lullaby there
Books, broth, and banter
And her softest bear
— a.r.
Photoshop image found on mayhemandmuse.com
Gray Day Revisted
•January 20, 2014 • Leave a CommentNothing
But rain dripping deep and hollow
On the roof a heartbeat
Irregular
Nothing
But cold coffee in my mug
Reheated and forgotten and reheated
Forgotten
Nothing
But churning in my stomach
Growling at me to be filled
Knotted
Nothing
But the smallest of blood flow reaching my toes
Unnoticed until I stand
Collapsing
Nothing
Published, but drafts of poems
Edited and waiting
Delaying
Nothing
To do today but file away
The moments as they dribble past
Drab and gray
Nothing
–A.R.
Trees, Clouds, Gray Day by Tom Brown
Meditation Separation
•January 19, 2014 • 2 CommentsHave you ever meditated with a wedgie
It leaves you feeling separated and quite edgy
Your panties in a bunch
I’ve more than just a hunch
It brings you back to when you were a fledgling
— a.r.
Oil painting by Tikva Adler
Say Something (again)
•January 19, 2014 • 2 CommentsSay something nice to me,
Not because I am good,
Or even slightly worthy.
Say something nice to me,
Just because I am,
Trying, living, making an effort.
Say something sweet to me,
While my own bitter tongue,
Lashes me so.
Say something sweet to me,
To tide me over,
Until I believe and am satiated.
Say something kind to me,
Because your voice soothes,
When self-doubt scorches my soul.
Say something kind to me,
As if yours were the last,
I would hear on this earth.
Say something, anything, to me,
To remind me that I even exist,
At all.
— A.R.
A False God (repost)
•January 18, 2014 • 10 CommentsI find salvation each morning
In that first cup of coffee
No matter my sins from the night before
There is a promise rising
From that warm mug
That pulls me close, gathers me
Plays with me and offers
More time, more energy, more
But then I have consumed it
Nothing remains
But the porcelain at the bottom
Barely coated and cold
By the time I pour that second serving
The potential has faded
And only my habit remains
–A.R.
Photograph by Nick Knight
Damn
•January 17, 2014 • 2 CommentsA dam has been breached
A boundary broken
Gears knocked loose
There is a flood of me
Pouring onto pages
I’ve no choice
But to ride with it
Rushing
Swim in it
Let it carry me
Wherever we are going
If I fight it I will drown
Too soon
For death waits anyway
At the end of rapids
Jagged rocks or dried bed
Best to be swept by water
Drenched
I will feel its flow around me
Now while I am in it
I will not regret
The rupture
— A.R.
Bible Dam by Jacek Yerka
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