Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 8, 2022

Dormant

(originally published January 19, 2008)

Green and lush, with fragrance sweet
And variegated colors,
The flower thrives on warm summer days
With sun and soil and water.

As days grow short and seasons change,

The blossom dies, the color fades,

Withdrawing into its stable roots

Vitality that held the bloom.


Clouds roll in, and snows descend,

Covering life with a blanket.

Sounds are hushed. Life is still,

But growth goes on beneath it.


What growth occurs, the eye can't see,

The blanket quietly hides,

While covered up with frost and earth

The root grows strong inside.


Gently loosening it's hold,

The frost begets the waters' flow.

Days grow longer. Life awakes.

The dormant root, its quiet breaks.


Shoots reach up with perfect faith,

The cold a forgotten friend,

Through the earth 'til surface breaks

Where life begins again.


Harsh, though, that blanket seems

Of cold and snow and frozen earth,

Life demands those quiet times

Whereafter comes rebirth.


-CLP


Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Dots

She's always called it
a constellation. 
A mural of her indifference.

Connect-the-dots,
a picture
of the deeper places.

Her weakness revealed
on this map
of her self-inflicted turmoil.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Ode to Dinner

O Dinner! Why doth thou torment me so?
Thou art full of guile and unused pasta,
Mocking mine consciousness, so barren of ideas.

The loathing in mine heart knoweth no end, for thee, O Dinner.
Thy sneering countenance doth make my blood boil.
I perceive thy callous taunting,
Thy ridicule, in regard to mine own poor planning.

But I shall prevail!
Bested by thee, O Dinner?
It shall not be so!

'Tis not the chopping, the cutting,
The basting, nor the broiling that plagues the five o'clock hour...
But the PLANNING!
O, to be a planner!

I shall groweth in mine capacities.
I shall strive and stretch and amplify mine talents.
And then, O Dinner, Bane of Mine Existence,
It shall be YOU who laments!!!

Thursday, May 7, 2009

Edge of a Knife

It's a hard line to walk.
And all you can do is walk it and wait.

Ring-Around-The-Rosie in whispers and giggles.
Duck-Duck-Goose in tears and anguish.

The longing coupled with complete aversion
Gnaws at every moment,
Both exhilarating and nauseating.
The unseen, unknown and unfathomable flood
Of unfounded fear and potential joy
Swirling in an incessant current,
Drowning it's succumbing victims.

Looming day whispers a promise of the Whole World,
Or one drop in the Ocean of Time,
But there's only the waiting.
For now.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Safe Places

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This particular post had a soundtrack while I wrote it. If you'd like to hear, push play here.

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There are times where life brings you a sanctuary. A haven. And sometimes it's not a place in the literal sense of the word, but a home for your heart all the same.

Life moves, a river. A current carrying forward the past into the future, bringing the Now to every moment.

Like driftwood, you can let the current take you. You can drift. And in drifting, laying on your back mesmerized by the clouds, your sanctuary might recede into your mind's horizon, losing definition, engulfed by haze until it becomes unrecognizable.

At times like that, Panic can grip your heart. Where is your safety? Who are you? Why are you here, floating on this river? Was it always so wide? What is unseen below you? Did the river change, or did you change?

And then comes the choice. Drift again, ignoring questions, and see what the river will bring? Or swim hard for a safe place, be it the same place or a new and undiscovered haven, a resting spot on the journey?

There's always the choice.


Thursday, February 19, 2009

Sleep Deprived

An all access pass to raw feelings, walls down, she's checked in when depleted completely.
But, Dead of Night married to Passing Years eventually fall out of love and drive head-on toward Divorce...

A problem for another day.

For now, a stinging film rests on her eyes like contacts that she doesn't wear.
Her shoulders clench like acrophobic arms wrapping themselves around substantiality.
Fingers continue to fly and she wonders at this, her mind's backstage pass accessed through lidless doors.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

From The Jar... #23

So I didn't do a jar pull last week. Well, I started this one, but didn't finish it. It's late, but it's here.

Do you like rainstorms? Why or why not?



Is there a person on this earth who DOESN'T like rainstorms? The answer to the jar is a resounding 'yes'. I love them. Why? The warm, snug, take-a-bath-by-candlelight type of feelings they evoke...


Storm

An exhalation of earth, her breath weaves angry lashes of impatience over the effusion of renewal. Eyes drawing closed, she darkens the sky. Searing and tempestuous agonies lash across her vast cerebrum, coruscations of burning illumination.
Internal laceration gives way to tumbling expletives, and, unable to sustain her fortitude, she weeps with unabashed vulnerability as her children stand, oblivious to her torment, marveling at the mystical shroud her pain has wrapped around them.



.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Grace Kelly

They don't mean to do it, do they? I read, and my life feels lackluster. I read, and I feel poor. I read, and I wish I could pull off their grace and joy, their class and wit. I read and feel damaged and damaging. I read and feel my heart break as I am so fully and acutely aware of my fissures that threaten to give way and expose everything. Do they have those too? Do they always live in a world of vintage class, doting motherhood and unadulterated bliss? Do they ever cry and relentlessly hurl angry darts of pain and self-deprecation into their hearts and wonder if they are all alone?

Writing is aloe-vera to my sunburned, blistered heart. I already feel better. Who am I to cry over their fresh brushed, dentist-cleaned, plaque removed, with extra whitener smile? Why compare that to my own that might, just now, have morning breath, freshly eaten Oreos, or shag carpet because I ate too many sweets? I go to the dentist. I brush my teeth. Just because I have cilantro in my smile now and then doesn't mean that my smile is not pretty. We all have our morning breath moments, including them.

Let it go. I have loved my words. And I will love them still.

Monday, August 4, 2008

Manic Monday: Big


Inscribed


Pulse racing at the memory of words that
Tug my heart across a space as
big as my mind.

~CLP

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Compassion Speaks

I am compassion. I only know love. It wells up from my toes and gurgles out of the top of my head as a mountain spring unending.

I light upon her and she radiates with my glow. She glimpses dark eyes on people who close their door to me and it wounds her... makes her protect me, caress me, shield me. She thinks she knows. She doesn't realize that I envelope them too. I hold their dark eyes, even when contempt seeps out of them, spreading like a slow leak. It doesn't matter. Compassion rocks anyone who hurts in the cradle of her arms.

Thursday, July 3, 2008

Manic Monday: Pride

I know it's not Monday, but I got home from my trip on Monday at about 11:00 pm and I'd been driving the whole day. I just didn't feel like posting right then. Then other things came up and I never got around to it. Thursday sounded like a good day for Manic Monday! Enjoy...



Pride

One of the pride, swarthy in color, commands prey to run when her stomach rumbles.




-

Monday, June 9, 2008

Manic Monday: Under

For Kristin


Stepping Stones to Now

No matter how long you have to prepare, nothing can prepare you.
The vacant space left behind leaves a hollow place in your heart.
Hollow, but not void of pain.
The pain tears at your chest while you smile, and cope, and continue living your life.
Life goes on, but often that wound tries to pull you under.

Time heals all wounds, yet time is an illusion.
All there is is Now.
Now is sorrow.
Now is loss.
Now is joy in her memory.
Now is sunshine through Noah's eyes.
Now is feeling and acknowledging your pain.
Now is feeling everything that this process brings you.
Anger, fear, guilt, joy, love... these are all stepping stones to the Now that brings peace.

Love this process. Love her life. Love the Now and each gift it brings you.

Saturday, May 17, 2008

Cruise Control

Life is one big car ride. The trip starts with riding away your youth in your parents' car. Then, one day you learn to drive, but in mom and dad's vehicle. After a while you buy your first car and you're finally driving yourself. You are the one behind the wheel. You are making the decisions. You feel a sense of freedom previously unknown.

In time, you pick up a passenger. Someone who wants to sit permanently in the bucket seat next to you. The two of you drive around everyday, best friends. Sometimes you drive calm and relaxed. Other times you might experience a little road rage. Sometimes you and your passenger do silly things as you zoom around. Other times, even though your bucket seat is filled, you feel like you're driving alone. You are both looking out opposite windows... one seeing mountains, the other a desert. And yet another day finds you holding hands looking at the same beautiful scenery and enjoying the fact that you are together.

You come to a point where you pick up a few more riders for your car. They are young and sweet, pliable and soft, molding to the ways they watch you drive. They yell at cars like they've seen you do, or they tell you to pull over and change a strangers tire like the example you shown. Everything you do, they do as well. They ask innumerable questions all along the drive, and the driving becomes a little more stressful and joyous all at the same time. The noise level increases with giggles and screams. But, your bucket seat passenger is with you, and you take turns driving and quieting the screams or smiling at the giggles.

There are times where you are just running errands all day. Going from one place to another and then, perhaps, back to the place you started from. Sometimes you don't plan your route well and frustration looms in your side view mirrors.

Other times you fly with intention to a destination, pushing the accelerator as much as your car will allow. Your heart races with the pursuit of purpose. You get lost in the wind licking your face. You see the scenery whipping by your periphery. In your haste, you forget to check the fuel gauge, and before you know it the car is sputtering and you are coasting to a dead stop. You smack the steering wheel and cry at the lost time. Then, someone with a kind heart will stop and help you get your tank filled again. You marvel at the generous hearts of strangers and loved ones alike. Hopefully, you learn your lesson, check that fuel gauge, slow down and pull off to fill up at your favorite fueling station when you're low on fuel.

There are also those times that you just put it on cruise control. No accelerating, no passing, no feeling. Just cruising with your foot off the gas. You just zone out and steer.

Sometimes when you have to get your oil changed, fix a flat tire, or replace the alternator. But you know the magic of preventative maintenance and you try your best to keep your car running smooth and free of the need for major repairs.

And then there are times that you crash. You hope for just the minor ones... a few dings or scratches, but you drive away. No harm done. You hear about the major ones. Crashes where people get hurt. Maybe even die. You pray that they never happen to you or anyone you love.

Despite all this, the road and the scenery change and everyday you can find spots of color that make your heart sing. Yet, in the end, the greatest joys of the drive are the ones riding with you. You and your bucket-seat-best-friend holding hands as you smile at the picture in your rear view mirror... those soft sweet faces of your little passengers and the joy of this moment.

Monday, March 24, 2008

Not Much To Say

Sitting here surrounded by myself.
Feeling alone and wondering why.
Screams and laughter of children trickle through the floor boards.

How to give them what they need when what I need eludes me.
Like putting together a puzzle without a finished picture to look at.
Where's the model?
What's the next step?

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Alone With You


Washed in white,
Your placid face,
Your warm smile,
Flash across my vision
As I stumble on toward a state of bliss
I know can only exist when I close my eyes.

Alone with you.


-CLP






This is a poem I wrote when I was in high school. Actually, this is the first poem that I wrote that was for me and not for some assignment in school. It's just been on my mind, so I thought I'd share.

Friday, February 1, 2008

Square Pegs, Round Holes

She said, I feel so unsettled.
It has nothing to do with our stuff.
Just a feeling.
It's just not a good fit.
Does that make sense?

Yeah, it makes sense...
It's like a shirt too short that you constantly tug.
Like thinking you cleaned but it's just under the rug.
It's like Jr. High - feeling like a lost soul,
Like tryin' to fit square pegs in round holes.
Just doesn't fit.

She said, It's more than just stuff
and boxes everywhere.
"You mean your house?"
No, I guess right now
life isn't a good fit.
Like I'm waiting for something.
Watching out the window
Every time a car passes.

Yeah, that makes sense....
It's like the rain falling down when the sun is smiling.
Like oil and water, you just keep on trying.
It's like you've got the right piece but working on the wrong puzzle.
Like a fish on the sand gettin' comfortable.
Just doesn't fit.

Square pegs and round holes...
Just don't fit.


-CLP

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Writing Frenzy

So... my last two posts have been poems. I realized that two poems hardly qualify as a frenzy, but my brain is in a frenzy. All I want to do is write something. Poems, stories, books, music, lyrics... I just, apparently, need to feed some creativity in myself. I sat for a long time tonight thinking I should blog about something, but, all I could think of is a poem that's been rattling around in my brain and anxiously waiting to come out since Saturday. So, that's what I did. I just thought a little explanation might be nice. Life is interesting. Always.

Beside Herself

She stands alone on cold concrete
Eyes locked on gray flecks of stasis.
Passion and purpose swirl around her like the whispers of a dying storm...
Only white noise. The kind you can fall asleep to.

Her back turned, she blindly cradles indifference with apathetic arms.

Time passes... moves with the dreaming child.






Flickers pull at her attention. Words tug at her stupor.
She grapples her Wraith, begging him to hold the foreground.

Flash. Distractions are Eclipsed.

Her eyes dart and indifference is jolted like a still heart under paddles.
One glimpse is enough to see her frostbitten eyes, her cement feet, her stone shoulders, her listless arms with back turned... standing beside herself.


-CLP