Sunday, May 24, 2015

Phoenix Rising Guild Memorial poem

Daddy’s Chair

Daddy had a big overstuffed chair. It was his throne.
One of us sisters, at times, would sit in his chair,
but when we’d see him coming we’d move fast.
He never asked us to get out of his chair.
He’d go to another one, as if he’d sit there.
But we’d insist that he’d take his place.

He had a big place in our hearts.
He slaved at the steel mill,
worked hard in the yard and garden,
hunted and fished to feed five daughters.
He had a sense of humor and teased us,
We teased him about being bald and grumpy.

We may not have verbalized it at the time,
but we knew he deserved his own chair. 

Saturday, May 23, 2015

From a photo of Santa Barbara

At the Beach

Beige sand stretched out
shimmering in the sun.
Palm trees poked up
like abused paint brushes.
Pastel purplish mountains
lie in the background
like a giant slumbering seal.
Adobe houses with red roofs
assumed an identity of nature

Friday, May 22, 2015

from morning pages

Let There Be Light

I am a quivering utility line
waiting for the power surge.
Flip the switch, Lord. Between
us let’s light up someone’s life.

Thursday, May 21, 2015

morning pages

End Tables

One cluttered with books,
pot holders, clock, plate,
cup, notepad and pen
a mini office, kitchen,
and library combined.
The other held nothing
but the phone,
all important,
the next call
might change a life
forever.

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Poetic Asides childhood

Bare Feet

Pounding grass
Tiptoeing over stones
Sticking to tarred road
Delighting in thick moss
Numbing in cold creek water
Stung by honeybees hidden in clover

Phoenix Guild That's My Line

“Goodbye, I did not get to say, that is my regret” from Julieann’s No Regret-Except


Goodbye

My friend was of the positive faith persuasion.
Convinced he’d live beyond the prognosis
of prostate cancer, he prayed, confessed and died.
Goodbye, I did not get to say, that is my regret. 

Monday, May 18, 2015

From the news

Grandma’s Lap

“One more lap,” Grandma said.
Fast, she ran round the yard.
Ran at school. Ran to win.
It should not be this hard.

“One more lap,” Grandma said.
It was all about a lie.
Round she went lots of times.
It felt like she would die.

“One more lap,” Grandma said.
She’ll never lie again.
Grandma’s anguish, too late.
Grandma pays for her sin.