You have gone
into the dreams of night.
On Halloween I read
your message of goodbye.
Last time you left
no message.
My silly heart broke.
This time, scrupulous,
you kept your promise:
no more unexplained
vanishing tricks.
You told me my fault
and only then
cut all contact.
This time it hurts less.
Although I forgave
I never went so deep again.
What you had done once….
[Poem #61]
This began as a game some bloggers played in 2008, to write about people who'd made an impact, in the same number of words as one's age, every day for a year. I did them less often and went on longer, adding one word each birthday. I stopped in 2016 and incorporated them into my main poetry blog. In 2019 I resumed the project and gave it its own blog again, with a new name, where it may unfold at its own (slow, intermittent) pace. I've labelled these verse portraits, but they're more like quick sketches: mere glimpses, impressions....
Friday 31 October 2008
Sunday 26 October 2008
Arrival
Her face in trance
gravely serene, eyes closed,
caught in this photo
is the same I saw in vision –
the woman my friend would meet
within the year. Spiritual,
I told him, also dynamic.
A year to the day he writes,
'We fell in love quickly.'
Black hair, I said; brown skin.
And here she is
kneeling in ritual –
scientist and shaman, I learn;
mischievous, compassionate ...
prophecy fulfilled.
[Poem #60]
gravely serene, eyes closed,
caught in this photo
is the same I saw in vision –
the woman my friend would meet
within the year. Spiritual,
I told him, also dynamic.
A year to the day he writes,
'We fell in love quickly.'
Black hair, I said; brown skin.
And here she is
kneeling in ritual –
scientist and shaman, I learn;
mischievous, compassionate ...
prophecy fulfilled.
[Poem #60]
Brief Encounter
In the waiting-room
a baby wailed,
held to his mother’s shoulder
as she stood at the counter
her back to the rest of us.
He was bald and pale,
swathed in white.
The huge sound of his distress
shattered the air.
I sent him a beam of love
across the space.
Immediately his cry stopped.
He raised his head,
looked straight at me,
held my gaze and smiled.
Shared with Writers' Pantry #40 at Poets and Storytellers United, 4 Oct. 2020.
[Poem #59]
a baby wailed,
held to his mother’s shoulder
as she stood at the counter
her back to the rest of us.
He was bald and pale,
swathed in white.
The huge sound of his distress
shattered the air.
I sent him a beam of love
across the space.
Immediately his cry stopped.
He raised his head,
looked straight at me,
held my gaze and smiled.
Shared with Writers' Pantry #40 at Poets and Storytellers United, 4 Oct. 2020.
[Poem #59]
Sunday 19 October 2008
My Extra-Terrestrial Friend
Did you find a physicist?
Not many scientists here
do telepathy!
Our meditation group
reached out,
found you orbiting;
couldn’t begin to grasp
what you had to impart.
No ‘little green man’,
your projected image
was long, columnar,
non-humanoid …
and yes, green: bright
as if lit from within.
I guess you went home
when your two years were up.
You were friendly and fun.
I liked you.
[Poem #58]
Not many scientists here
do telepathy!
Our meditation group
reached out,
found you orbiting;
couldn’t begin to grasp
what you had to impart.
No ‘little green man’,
your projected image
was long, columnar,
non-humanoid …
and yes, green: bright
as if lit from within.
I guess you went home
when your two years were up.
You were friendly and fun.
I liked you.
[Poem #58]
Ursula Le Guin
A Wizard of Earthsea
was my first fantasy novel
(Alice more classic than genre;
and, not raised on Narnia,
that still unread).
Ursula, it was you
who gave me this way
of entering dream and dimensions:
writing with grace and wit,
imparting the ways of magick,
moral dilemmas, growth.
I was very young,
though not so young as your hero.
He — you — taught me
how to develop character.
[Poem #57]
was my first fantasy novel
(Alice more classic than genre;
and, not raised on Narnia,
that still unread).
Ursula, it was you
who gave me this way
of entering dream and dimensions:
writing with grace and wit,
imparting the ways of magick,
moral dilemmas, growth.
I was very young,
though not so young as your hero.
He — you — taught me
how to develop character.
[Poem #57]
Friday 10 October 2008
Karuna Mayi
At Healers’ Day
I cleared your past life:
Hermann, tortured for witchcraft;
healer then too (herbs, alchemy)
I your acolyte.
This life, your Reiki Master.
******
Millennium meditation
you stood: angel,
arms outspread
holding the energy.
******
The last time I ever saw you
I wanted to say, ‘Love you forever.’
The words rose in me
but seemed too final, so I said,
‘I’ll see you again.’
I expect so.
[Poem #56]
I cleared your past life:
Hermann, tortured for witchcraft;
healer then too (herbs, alchemy)
I your acolyte.
This life, your Reiki Master.
******
Millennium meditation
you stood: angel,
arms outspread
holding the energy.
******
The last time I ever saw you
I wanted to say, ‘Love you forever.’
The words rose in me
but seemed too final, so I said,
‘I’ll see you again.’
I expect so.
[Poem #56]
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)