It continues…

OK, so in some ways I’m less like I used to be: more accepting of who I am, less eager to be who somebody else might want me to be, less eager to be who I might want me to be.  Not too long ago I wouldn’t have published the writing below, feeling it was “too” something-or-other, definitely not cool enough, definitely not in keeping with the self image I’d constructed and cherished.

Anyhow, Mike and Jenny, mentioned below, are my step son and his wife, uncle and aunt to our new grandsons, Christopher and Benjamin.  NuNu is a grandmother to the boys.

All my writing reflects all l’ve read, so please don’t be surprized at things sounding familiar.  The poem about my poetry echos Ryokan, a Japanese zen monk and my current favorite poet.

Softly these come to me

not as ideas or feelings

but more like the breeze that moves the leaves

this sunny morning after coffee

in Mike & Jenny’s yard.:

Butterflies never fly off course.

Happiness is an abstraction…

And (#2 being true) so is despair.

* * *

Harmony

disharmony-

all else

is imagination or labeling.

* * *

For this moment I understand

my poetry doesn’t have to be good

or original

or even poetry.

What a relief!

* * *

Sitting alone

In NuNu’s backyard

Just where shadow meets sunlight

Surrounded by movement

Fragrance and sound

Wind thru the trees and

The love of family.

* * *

How can you not be angry at that which angers you?

Try this: Imagine twin boys at age 2

bright as a brilliant summer morning

running helter-skelter through a big green back yard

Yelling to unseen crows

and being understood.

* * *

A fly lands on my right leg.

My left foot brushes it away.

My face smiles.

No fly-no smile.

Thanks, God.

* * *

That part of me

that thinks I’m special,

that part of me is itself specialbecause that part of me knowsdeep down beyond any bit of doubt:

I am not special.

Sitting, reading, walking

feeling, thinking, wishing

fearing…

When you cut me, I bleed.

No more than that.

* * *

Like the ocean to a fish

Like the wind to a bird

So God is to us

and so, too, is love.

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Published in: on July 14, 2007 at 2:28 pm  Leave a Comment  
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