FINALLY! I DID IT!
to my dear reader
(the 2 or 3 of you)
May's poems are now over
(there are more poems to do)
udnib says goodbye
(the backward bindu)
Let me tell you, this was no picnic. It was hard, harder than the first 30. But it was good. A poem needs more time to be created if it wants to be good. And I found myself giving less and less time to this project. But each rough piece was a drop of bindu, and I am happy with the outcome. Thanks for reading! Sat Nam.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Monday, May 30, 2011
Day 30: (Memorial Day) : Falling From Heaven
He told us keep praying or they'll fall back into life.
It's how Heaven works.
The forgotten are released - dropped like a Pepsi out of the machine.
They land hard and shiny into a new life and spend it searching for those friends and family who dropped the ball.
We know our parents, our grandparents, and sometimes our great grandparents.
Then who?
Your cousin's kid is Uncle Willie, a hero in the Civil War.
Memorial Day was created for those who fell then.
I walked to my car with my head bowed in prayer.
I drove home thinking of my ancestry.
I opened the front door and hugged the dog.
It's how Heaven works.
The forgotten are released - dropped like a Pepsi out of the machine.
They land hard and shiny into a new life and spend it searching for those friends and family who dropped the ball.
We know our parents, our grandparents, and sometimes our great grandparents.
Then who?
Your cousin's kid is Uncle Willie, a hero in the Civil War.
Memorial Day was created for those who fell then.
I walked to my car with my head bowed in prayer.
I drove home thinking of my ancestry.
I opened the front door and hugged the dog.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Day 29 (NoNo's Birthday): Weather
The sky is grey with rambunctious potential.
I like it this way.
Except our world has seen enough unforgiving weather.
This morning I feel as though I'm looking
up into the next disaster.
What happened to the mornings when rain made me smile
and run to the nearest book, paper, and pen?
Pink bouganvilea flutter happily as wind lifts their dresses.
Tangerine leaves cheer.
Everyone in the yard is clapping now.
Bring it on, they seem to say.
Wind, rain, storm.
This is California!
And you know what they say about us:
We're fruits and nuts, raw and wild and passionate.
Stand outside and let God toss you around.
Thank you, I say, but He does that fine from in here.
And you're right.
I'm a fruit and a nut and a flower
standing in life with my dress fluttering and my hands clapping.
Thanks for reminding me.
I like it this way.
Except our world has seen enough unforgiving weather.
This morning I feel as though I'm looking
up into the next disaster.
What happened to the mornings when rain made me smile
and run to the nearest book, paper, and pen?
Pink bouganvilea flutter happily as wind lifts their dresses.
Tangerine leaves cheer.
Everyone in the yard is clapping now.
Bring it on, they seem to say.
Wind, rain, storm.
This is California!
And you know what they say about us:
We're fruits and nuts, raw and wild and passionate.
Stand outside and let God toss you around.
Thank you, I say, but He does that fine from in here.
And you're right.
I'm a fruit and a nut and a flower
standing in life with my dress fluttering and my hands clapping.
Thanks for reminding me.
Day 29 (NoNo's Birthday) : Today's Weather
The sky is grey with rambunctious potential
I like it this way
except our world has seen enough unforgiving heavens.
This morning I feel as though I'm looking up into the next disaster.
What happened to the mornings when the rain made me smile
and run to the nearest book, paper, and pen?
Pink bougainvilea flutter happily as wind lifts their dresses.
Tangerine leaves cheer.
They're all clapping now.
Bring it on, they seem to say.
Wind. Rain. Storm.
This is California!
And you know what they say about us;
We're fruits and nuts, raw and wild and passionate.
Stand outside and let God toss you around.
Thank you, I say, but He does that fine from in here.
But you're right.
I'm a fruit, a nut, and a flower
standing in life with my dress fluttering and my hands clapping.
Thanks for reminding me.
I like it this way
except our world has seen enough unforgiving heavens.
This morning I feel as though I'm looking up into the next disaster.
What happened to the mornings when the rain made me smile
and run to the nearest book, paper, and pen?
Pink bougainvilea flutter happily as wind lifts their dresses.
Tangerine leaves cheer.
They're all clapping now.
Bring it on, they seem to say.
Wind. Rain. Storm.
This is California!
And you know what they say about us;
We're fruits and nuts, raw and wild and passionate.
Stand outside and let God toss you around.
Thank you, I say, but He does that fine from in here.
But you're right.
I'm a fruit, a nut, and a flower
standing in life with my dress fluttering and my hands clapping.
Thanks for reminding me.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Day 28: Untitled
"Pain is caused by our separation from now." Guru Singh
Which is where I was last night.
Which is where I have so often been.
I was grieving then -
when I go to the place I visit-
he was dead and we were barely holding on.
I was present then
only I never knew it
present was such a raw and fighening place to be.
You broke the spell when you walked in the door.
I was present then.
Don't let me go.
All my mistakes were made for you.
Which is where I was last night.
Which is where I have so often been.
I was grieving then -
when I go to the place I visit-
he was dead and we were barely holding on.
I was present then
only I never knew it
present was such a raw and fighening place to be.
You broke the spell when you walked in the door.
I was present then.
Don't let me go.
All my mistakes were made for you.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Day 27: Joplin
Joplin
her hometown
her high school
demolished
her friends' homes
demonly wrecked
her friends
alive
Joplin
she spoke the name with love and casual pride
the homemade prom dress
the teenage boyfriends
the restaurant where she counted her tips at night
Joplin
the name now sacrosanct
the country bows her head
one more temple site on the map of our holy land
Joplin
all over the t.v.
a man mourns the death of his two sons
while standing on a pile of wood which used to be
the place where they ate and slept and did homework
where they threw baseballs in the yard and rode bikes in the driveway
Joplin
the high school is gone
her hometown
her high school
demolished
her friends' homes
demonly wrecked
her friends
alive
Joplin
she spoke the name with love and casual pride
the homemade prom dress
the teenage boyfriends
the restaurant where she counted her tips at night
Joplin
the name now sacrosanct
the country bows her head
one more temple site on the map of our holy land
Joplin
all over the t.v.
a man mourns the death of his two sons
while standing on a pile of wood which used to be
the place where they ate and slept and did homework
where they threw baseballs in the yard and rode bikes in the driveway
Joplin
the high school is gone
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Day 26: Wednesdays With Sylvia
Our first session:
Sylvia is 92, born in Genoa.
I walked in and she said, "LOOOK, I can touch my toes." She raised her arms and folded forward, fingers to her black tennies.
Sylvia drives, paints, has a dog, a cat, and a parrot. Her chihuahua died last night at 15.
I put my keys down on a carved wood table. "Someone offered me $18,000 for that. I took my keys off the carved wood table. She had three Tiffany lamps. They're Seconds," she said.
We spent thirty minutes practicing yoga together. Her ujjayi was as robust as my husband's. She was standing straighter when we were through.
Afterward she told me about her childhood in Genoa, and how she would walk to the mountaintop to gather mushrooms her mother would fry and serve alongside dinner. She told me this story twice. As I left, I thought I wouldn't mind hearing it a few more times.
Sylvia is 92, born in Genoa.
I walked in and she said, "LOOOK, I can touch my toes." She raised her arms and folded forward, fingers to her black tennies.
Sylvia drives, paints, has a dog, a cat, and a parrot. Her chihuahua died last night at 15.
I put my keys down on a carved wood table. "Someone offered me $18,000 for that. I took my keys off the carved wood table. She had three Tiffany lamps. They're Seconds," she said.
We spent thirty minutes practicing yoga together. Her ujjayi was as robust as my husband's. She was standing straighter when we were through.
Afterward she told me about her childhood in Genoa, and how she would walk to the mountaintop to gather mushrooms her mother would fry and serve alongside dinner. She told me this story twice. As I left, I thought I wouldn't mind hearing it a few more times.
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