Random Poems: Unknown Source

All the long, nonpareil days of August, I waited

Walking beaches incessantly

Combing the tides for word from you

Only sea-glass emerged

Not a word formed on foam.

My hems are mud-clumped threads

My boots caked in salt

The flumes of my bonnet blown backward,

Catching the joyriding wind.

Not a whole shell is extant,

Only bits & flakes, a bubble on a wave…

Still I walk.

My sisters look to horizons

Expect me to raise my eyes

But I am stuck in a story of you

Where a single, cool, green cylinder

Rolls to my feet.

I bend & slick off the water

I tremble, using my teeth on the cork

[A faint ‘pop!’]

The fainter smell of your ink

The mystery of your yes or no

Curled like a hermit crab in wine-bottle shelter.

There is only one today;

Always only one me

So fraught with self & simpering love words

They seek me out front & back

They drip from me like raindrops down oilcloth

Run to edges that curl the streams

I wear a Papa Salt hat, yellow in this sunlit Other Day.

I don’t expect a Prince a-riding

I’d prob’ly fall in love with his horse & dash him from saddle,

Leaving him standing bandyleg-beached

As Horse & I gallop, splashing, into the sea.


Time To Rain

Mercury gone retro brings monsoons

But since that last hailstorm in June

Things are quiet.

I feel like a chess piece out of play

Cornered by a pike-poxed pawn

A Queen at bay to the dwarf

But dwarves are Earth & know the caves

What better ally to be sent me?

I throw the ball again to

See if I can hit the sea

It’s all downhill from here…


Dancing On My Daddy’s Shoes

Tho something I’ve never done, seems somehow dug into my memory

Like finding a bone among the feathers

A made-up story about a little girl I never was

Nor can be this life.

And so loved anyway

Still dancing.


When No Belief Was Left

We turned back

The trackless waste devoid of all save Hunger

Beckoned no more

In full retreat, we fled, thankfully

Fragmented among ourselves,

We slept in the ruins

The mild nights belied our inner chill

From all the ice & snarl, we breathed relief.

Alive again to home & hearth. We were

The heathens left alive

As ghosts, alone & insubstantial

To live among the resting of our lives

So packed with promise just before the War.

The Blush of Being Still

My life has been sectioned off pretty securely. There was being a child, a ‘tween, a teen, etc. But when I thought the chrysalis sucked close to dry, I experienced a rebirth. Every time. The assuredness of God chucking me under the chin.

I focused in on a quote today. It’s been on my desk panel for months, now. I decided to read it at least once each day going forward. I believe it’s from the movie “Pacific Rim” which I’ve not seen.

Today, at the edge of our hope, of life at the end of our time, we have chosen not only to believe in ourselves, but in each other.

Today there’s not a man or a woman in here that shall stand alone. Not today.

Today we face the monsters that are at our door, and bring the fight to them.

Today we are cancelling the Apocalypse!

Somewhere, in the mind-altering moments, tiny switches are flipping. Or something like that is happening. Words that brought up powerful reactions are neutralizing. When I remember the story to tell about that word & that feeling, it is no longer of any stir in my life.

I can feel them switching in others too, as we share thoughts & ideas, discoveries & dreams. To even be speaking of dreams, the wishes culled from THIS rebirth…polar separations dissolve, my “personal poles” come together, in the form of a plug going into a wall. And I’m not afraid of the electricity bill anymore.

Everyone I speak to is more “themself”, more genuine, more interactive with me than before when I’d see them for a “Hi!” Now each encounter means a deepening of soul in order to respond to where that person is…especially if I feel like I’m watching a first grader. Until the next Teacher finds me so as well. Beginner’s Mind allows my interactions with the world to flourish.

So, there’s no smart ending to this one. It’s been in ‘drafts’ for days while I figured the rest would come through. But I think it really ends here.

Loveya,

Carol

“Officer Carol” comes out: Tut! You ‘re just getting that?”