POETRY
by Claire
A poem about my friends . . . .
Friends come in different colors
They come to me at different hours
Just like flowers
And sports cars
Sometimes in more than one color
Like minerals under black light
And rainbows
sparkling in the sunshine
Glistening in the new moonlight
Or fresh and glowing with the starless end of night
My red friend met me wearing pink
red gets tired then
grows softer and quieter, I think
more restful--not so red
My green friend makes everything grow
She's flighty though
And when she's depressed
My blue friend has left town
I wish I had a yellow friend
I wonder what color I am
Here is a poem about the place of women in the universe.
RECOMPENSE
A woman child -- a child of woman born
Here is a song that my son Tom wrote with his mom when he was three and forever asking questions
Plants and animals
Love and hope
And me
Goes with the sun
Gets yellow spots
With orange centers
Everything fades
They sicken and die
They need the sun
Flown away into the sky
All her life awry
Gone and I am glad
The blue was too blue
Gay and light
Bright and golden
Old gold is very beautiful
I wish I had an old -gold friend
Black and white is not friendly
Too judgmental
Too right
Or too wrong
Certainly not black
and white
More like the rainbow
I wonder if the rainbow wants a friend
her budding came to bloom a gracious dower
her perfumed petals strews a fragrant bower
and faded used, fragmented, crumbled, torn
But be not downcast and be not forlorn
for see that he has given you a seed
and do you plant it, tend its every need
recant your own
The soul it may adorn will prosper well
grow tall and straight and fair.
Your lot to nourish fortune not dispair
Now make obesance, reap your fate with joy
regard the swelling of the bud to flower
it nods to you,
the dwelling place of power
just clasp your hands
and pray that it’s a BOY
Why is the grass so green, growin' in the ground?
How do the worms all walk, what do they use for legs?
Why does the ocean float, why does it splash so high?
Why do the trees stand still, why don't they walk around?
Why is the moon up there, like a little light?
Why is the sun so bright, where does it go at night?
Why does a chicken like to sit on all those eggs?
Why does a kitty always turn into a cat?
And why do mommies get so mad, oh won't you tell me that?
Why are the fishes there, and do they ever cry?
Why can't I grow down again until I'm very small?
Tell me, tell me everything, I want to know it all.
WE all have different definitions for love. Here are a few of mine.
a poem about Bo, an oversize golden retiever and my grandsons best friend.
THE SHAPE OF LOVE
Who knows the shape of love?
finding shadows in it’s shade
analyzing how it’s made
can quell the power of
it’s manifest to will and to deny.
They say his name is “love”
all accord him great and small
steepled edifices call
his presence from above
“My country right or wrong”
Sons in blackened puddles lay
putrifying with decay
sing with me the song
of banners waving bravely in the sky
Young women bearing young
feteses with careless greed
conscious only of their need
to love someone among
the crowd of faceless strangers passing bye
We know the shape of love
Passion breaks upon the shore,
swells and billows
breaks once more
moans softly as a dove
and tender as a murmered lullaby.
Love is always undefined
like madness,
it’s a state of mind.
Bo--A Super-hero Dog
Bo is scared of thunder
It’s his only flaw
Cause Bo’s the bestest hero
That you could ever saw.
He wears a hero’s costume
All silver, red and blue
A cape of misty raindrops
A helmut made of dew
He stands up tall beside me
Nothing can come near
When he is there to guide me
The only thing to fear
Is thunder loud and crashing
Banging in the night
Monsters raise their heads and roar
Flashing swords of light
Bo can’t cover up his ears
Like you and I might do
He seeks the nearest closet
Tremblng til it’s through
Sometimes I like to scare myself
When I have gone to bed
I lie there thinking scarey thoughts
With monsters in my head
Bo cuddles up, takes half the bed
But I just let him stay
He snores and groans and whistles
And scares them all away.
Yes, Bo is scared of thunder
Perhaps it's just as well
Sometimes he makes me wonder
Why folks are scared of HELL.
Conceit
Here is a "conceit". You are supposed to figure out what it is about before you find out at the end. Now don't cheat.
I am agitated, this way and that
my skin dissolves, drifts toward the bottom
up, down, back and forth
I am cast into the healing flow
abrasives leave my tissues
my skin is renewed, refreshed,
but not yet ready, or right
Ultimately, I lie alone at the bottom,
heaped, creased,
exhausted,
limp and waiting
resting until it is time
time for me to become as I should be
Lifted, I am tossed about in slow motion.
encarcerated, captive I fly ,
lightly, eternally around, about
around and about
Am I now perfect? made right?
no, not perfect . . . not yet, soon?
I shrink from the heat
pulled, extended, I stretch painfully
I hang
Finally, finally I am done
but, I am not perfect, never perfect
my color is uneven,
faded, dark along the seams
Better, oh yes, much better.
more as I should be
but still, too new
too new blue jeans
you can see just how old this is. Now jeans come pre-washed and pre-shrunk.
NOTICING SPRING
I just noticed
I don't have to wear the top of my sweat suit
I love it
that top
so sweet and soft
cuddly protection
a security blanket
I just noticed
the leaves on the pomogranet tree
are tiny and gold
pointed and small
so stingy
but promising
greeness and fruit
soon
I just noticed
all my writer friends
are writing
mostly poetry
an ode to love
another to the wind
and getting old
without aging
Here I am
doing it too
I just noticed
it's here at last
SPRING.
sequel
I wish winter were hereIt's not even fall
hot dry days
nights promising coolness
but not yet
I wish the dry heat
from high pressure inland
would draw in cool breezes
waiting over the seacoast
I wish I had watered the plants more often
everything is getting brown . . . and crisp
everything looks dead.
I wish it would rain.
And here is the love of my life. . . . click to meet Mr. Wonderful
