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Tag Archives: soul

I Will Write You A Poem

Come to me tonight,
And I will write you a poem
To carry with you
In your body,
On your skin.

My fingers will write it
On the palm of your hand,
My lips shall speak to your lips
in silent verse,
My eyes
Will show you the seat of love
From which all poetry comes
And in my voice
You will hear the sound of my soul
Singing your name
In words that come to you
As starlight,
Sweet wind through the trees,
The brush of grass,
The sound of your feet.

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Posted by on December 6, 2011 in Poetry

 

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Book

There was that very special book
of poetry
left to me by my mother.

One hundred and twelve years old
and a quilted cover,
Fields and Poe,
Tennyson, Shelly
and an inscription on the inside cover leaf
by a woman no-one I know
had ever met.

She had given it to her love
on the occasion of his birthday.
Twenty one he was
and, if I am to believe what is written within,
quite the handsome lad.

She draws his attention to page forty-one,
and a poem by Tennyson about a flower
plucked and examined
during a walk,
ephemeral beauty destroyed by too close a love,
too vulgar a desire
too mean a possession.

 
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Posted by on November 27, 2011 in Family, Poetry, Uncategorized

 

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When Did You Enter Me?

Look at you up in the sky
Shining, pulling oceans
Back and forth,
The flow of blood
Through my heart,
Thoughts in my head.

When was it you
Entered my genes,
Became part of me,
Wrapped around my soul,
Filled my veins with liquid
Moonlight?

When did my
Comings and goings,
Ebb and flow
Fall under your gravity?
When did I discover
I saw better by
Moonlight?

Look at you up in the sky
Shining, so bright
Mars hides
In your light,
Blushes at your beauty,
Paralyzed.

 
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Posted by on November 14, 2011 in Nature, Poetry

 

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Nearly Dying of Exposure

For Lee. Be well my dear one. You were the font of all that is good and right in this world, the genesis of all that is beautiful and the wellspring of all that in creation is joy. I will see you later. I will.

On our way
home from the beach
We stop beside the car
For you to change,
Backside to the passenger door,
I hold a blanket in front of you
As you slip off your top
And drop a loose
Dress over your shoulders
Over your belly,
Mid-calf,

Neglecting to button the bodice
So you dry in the air.
And below the blanket
Your bathing suit
Bottom hits the ground.

As I drive the highway home

Still wet,
You place your feet on the dashboard,

Pull open your top just a bit more
Pull up the hem of your dress over your hips
and fan yourself dry

On the car seat

Spread out in the sun.

I almost hit a wall.
I almost hit a tree.

Bless you.

 
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Posted by on September 9, 2011 in Family, Poetry

 

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I Believe in You

(A poem for Lee)

I believe in you.

You.
Like I believe
The Sun rises each morning and
The moon shades from light to dark then
To light again.

I believe in you
Like I believe in
The laws of Nature.
I am as sure of you as
Water runs downhill,
Cold contracts,
Gasses expand,
An object in motion stays in motion…

I am as sure of you as I am
Spring will come again and again.

I believe in you like light.

 
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Posted by on September 2, 2011 in Family, Poetry

 

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But the Son of Man or Respite

I wrote this a long time ago. I won an award for it. I picked it for contests because I don’t like it. never did. But other people seem to. That’s fine. A mystery to me, but I’m ok with that.

But, it occurred to me, today, now… now I get this. How odd is that? To write something but not get it for nearly thirty years?

I want to lay my head

in the curve of someone’s lap.

Down

on someone who isn’t going anywhere.

I want to rest

and close my eyes

and be blest

by the stroking of my hair.

I want to feel the skin

against my cheek and lips

of someone who will let me in,

someone who won’t throw me off.

I don’t care

who or what they are

or how it appears in others’ sight.

I’m not asking for a year

or even a night,

I just want to lay my head

in the curve of a lap

of someone who isn’t going anywhere.

(Published in The Phoenix and the Dragon as well as several anthologies.)

 
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Posted by on July 19, 2011 in Poetry

 

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Gabriel Erector

At a garage sale last Sunday
I purchased an erector set.
Not an ordinary erector set
but one in a sky blue box
and in it everything I need
to build angels.

It’s an angel building kit.
Not the kind of angels
made of plastic and wire and
glue makes your head hurt
and the world dizzy spin.
Not like a model set.
Not like the kind of angels
who blow a horn
and my living room walls
come tumbling down
or talk in my brain and I go off
to fight the English,
but the kind of angels
who open rain clouds,
tug at grass blades until they’re long,
lift up the corners of a baby’s mouth.
The kind of angels who pull open irises
and make it so you can see
the chest of your loved one
sleeping next to you
rise and fall with each inspiration
even though it’s completely dark,
but you know you see it.

It’s my angel building kit.
So far,
since I took my kit home
and opened it,
It has rained,
my grass grew,
my irises bloomed
and I can see my loved one’s chest
rise and fall in the night
even though I have the shades drawn,
and it’s completely dark.

 
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Posted by on May 21, 2011 in Family, Poetry, Religion

 

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