Tag Archives: meditation

Morning at Keystone Harbor


Mast-high pilons root deep in the harbour sand

and slapped by bickering waves

abrupt and cold, as if salt-crusted sea cow’s tongues

washed the creosote, lapping the rough black skin

cringed in retreat at the horrid tar taste

and swelling again hunched their wet shoulders

A stadium wave pummels the shore

incessant and rough

stretched and rolled beyond limits

potential velocity breached and broken in foam

while terns and kittiwakes play on invisible currents

spearing the air with their descending cries

high wire acts on daredevil wings

flickering from kohl to silver

shimmering white then back to black

frontside to backside, fishschool patterns

flocking and swirling their silhouette like smoke

dissolving against the cyan blue sky

Two terns in the harbour mercilessly tease

a solitary grey-winged king of the pilon

the glaucous gull, the beggar bird

Detached and rooted he cries

tasting the aromas of

fresh baked bread and buttered crab legs

Across from the harbor

a broad windowed café gazes at the sea

surrounded by flowering weeds and dancing climber roses

red against white beside weathered ash benches

There, a writer sits in her windproof jacket,

intense and frowning

lost in the force and dimension of imagine

her broken stories mended by a smooth wooden pen

while, gathering the morning sun,

the oil of rose wafts subconsciously

into her work

Beyond her a mocking ghost fence

groans in the breeze and rattles in the wind

and traverses the meadow grass beside the coast road

a wooden signboard, wearing time-peeled paint,

hangs upon rust-bleeding screws

Chipped and blistered

it tells its own half-dead

but still kicking story

in black on white with three simple words

Private, it says.

No Trespassing

gulls painting may be purchased from:  http://www.carolthompson.com/seabirds/harbor-gulls/index.htm

Entered in: http://promisingpoetsparkinglot.blogspot.com/

http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/

http://promisingpoetsparkinglot.blogspot.com/2012/04/thursday-poets-rally-week-65-april-5.html

Advertisements

23 Comments

April 1, 2012 · 5:03 pm

Matin


In the presence of Self

in a place of Alone

where words dismantle and disperse

just as dreams that disappear upon rising

I sit and drink sweet Columbian brew

from a china cup

Cherokee sighs, her tawny gold fur

resigned to carpet while paws twitch,

ears lay flat and deaf

nose clocked-off and eyes

dimmed beneath soft-lidded mounds

My g-o-D spelled backwards

snores in her sleep

The coffee-maker base

clicks on… and off

as it heats and cools

on… and off

an electric lung

breathing the silence

of kitchen and space

No radio, tv or iPod tunes

unravel the morning

in this place of Alone

no racing to work

or seeking solutions

to revolutions and chaos

and all the troubles

that humans burden

and chase

while amassing wealth

discarding waste

their cycles of activity

dizzying and pointless

In this place of Alone

where worlds dismantle

and disperse like dreams

I sit and drink

from a china cup

with only the movement

of breath flowing in

…and out

in…

and out

Blood pulses

like highway traffic

while I surrender

to the awareness

of d-o-G spelled backwards

Submitted to Jingle’s Poetry Potluck and One Shot Wednesday

35 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Uncategorized

Sacrifice and Silence


He was in London earning their keep,

making what he could, stashing it away

for the things they needed

while she waited, frustrated

wishing she were there, or better yet,

that he’d come home

Together was so much better

even if it did mean less

Together was more to her

It was everything

She pondered so long in the silence

that the sun slipped unnoticed

behind the hill

that space where she could sit

with enough view to be still

think and sink deep

away from the loneliness

the solitude of dreaming

and wishing his return

Heart spilled so willing into those hills

she never saw the creature’s approach

she, quiet as a stone, except for breathing

until something moved in the dusk

and walked across her feet

heavy against her toes, light and quick on his;

Two black bands, flag of his species

marked the intense white face

and thick fur, the char-grey body

brushed past in an instant

unaware of the human he trod on

knowing only himself

bull badger

Responsibility on his mind

tread out and forage for food;

bring it back to the sett

be rejoined with mate and cubs

but the diggings are better

on the other side of the hill

a night’s walk away

Leaving them behind, he went hunting

All they need is food, she thought

unlike us

In the dim evening light, her only company 

an infant nursing at her breast

She stood and stretched

pushed blood and breath into her limbs

and walked down the hill

back to their empty house

wishing it took less to be human

glad at least of her one sweet cub

and of toes, trampled by a badger

Badger Image courtesy of: http://www.borderpics.co.uk/badgerpics/images/badger_emerging_4232.jpg

Posted for One Shot Wednesday

Posted to http://onesingleimpression.blogspot.com/ Prompt 172: Long For

60 Comments

Filed under Non-Fiction, Poetry, Uncategorized