My week in poems

Penned this morning: 10/17

It’s safe to fashion poems
about birds in flight
or on perched parade.
It’s safe to cover such topics
as accentuate the earth,
the sky and the uprising of varied landscapes
in their wild glory.
And don’t get me wrong,
I write script about all of these
marvels with great pleasure and frequency.

But I am pressing now in another direction
alongside the birds and sky,
one much less safe and cozy.

One that pushes the envelope,
urging an important inquiry
to form on my lips,
and on the tip of my writing pen
amid the candle flame flickering
in the early morning darkness:
where is the middle ground
between angrily amping up
and letting go in heart heavy defeat?

________

Penned on 10/16:

Things are changing
and I am no longer interested
in sparing others hard truths
at the expense of my own.

There is a price to pay for silence
when words are what need
to be ushered forward.

There is a toll the body
accrues when niceness
overrides honesty.

Hang on, dear ones.
This is going to be a bumpy ride.

_________

Penned on 10/15:

Sometimes…
like a hatchling,
I don’t realize I have wings;
like a cloud,
I know not where I’ve come from
or where I’m going;
like a flower,
I am in bloom,
with little understanding
of how close I am
to withering and dying.

_________

Penned on 10/14:

If the moon whispers in stars,
the sun,
I reckon,
shouts in birds.

Both fill the sky with laughter.
But not at the same time.

And it’s for the best that they see fit to take turns.

They each require a different constellation of light
to fill the sky with merriment.

 

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