New Earth Portfolio

even as the bluejay warns, spine tingles
a beast barks, exhausted senses mingle
heavy in the magnetic force down dog
solar plexus aimed at earth clears fog

the poisons writhe thick upon sweet air i’m
the canary in the mine, see what’s there: crime
against our moral ground been here before
a spiritual war my sovereign core

perceives the matrix glitch this déjà vu
rises ancestral trauma ringing through
manipulated stories stupefy
i do not pay attention and–surprise

reclaim my energy. My focus buys
love, give and receive the wealth in the skies
on sacred ground, through fire and water, mint
intentional, creative investment.

Inspired by: Magnet, Stupefy, Plexus and Déjà vu.

Featured image: Lilypods succumbing to a poison warned me to flee, not before I got a lungful.

Attention’s Coin

Clank your chains and count your change. Try to walk the line. Did you say your name was Ramblin’ Rose?~Noel Sherman

I tend to enclose flow when I’m hangry
confusing juice for food, gut-stuff angry
so useful for fuel, but it makes me sick
I worry so, intuitive and thick

each electrical connection insists
I pay and though my new training resists
the old ways persist. My suffering, clear,
is ancient. So queer its reach and grip here

in the present I gift myself with tears
allowing the ramble roses and thorns
cut quick in the midst blaring my own horn
in my gentle way. Just look in my eyes

the hurt of your judgmental critique–how you despise–

so here I breathe and tune. Healing demands
a spiral revisit of ships unmanned
abandoned at the harbor. No one hears.
The ghosts alone inhabit these old piers.

Inspired by: Hangry, Ramble, Enclosed and Tend.

Featured image: Peace rose blooming today.

True Colors

You with the sad eyes, I see your true colors, show me a smile.~Cyndi Lauper

The mist on the lake rushes west past lawns
like dancers caught by unexpected dawn.
Bedraggled, trailing, naughty defiant
compliance, they must be juicy giants

though my filters deem them wraiths, vaporous,
pared down to brumous suppliants. Porous
unheeding and quick to reach conclusions.
At the shore they stick matter confusion.

I see my errors, clinging to a script
of what’s unquestioned. Entrainment equipped
mind means I’m blind and deaf to what is here.
Painstakingly I sort beliefs and clear.

Inspired by: Naughty, Filter, Juicy and Pare.

Featured image: As the sun rose, the mists fled faster. When I went out to photograph it, mother duck and her brood sped past, as well.

American Way of Death

Many cultures around the world believe that a white moth is a visitation by the soul of a deceased loved one.

My mother’s dying wishes couldn’t fit
into the shibboleth of death’s toolkit
doctors wielded. Shielded by CYA
they poked and prodded, toxified to buy

stint in drug-filled haze, so thorough the dose
the ruction didn’t seem to faze. Who knows?
She couldn’t speak before her final breath
incandescent, luminous into death.

Now here beside the lake, taking a break
from packing, following the lists she’d make
each morning while I’d compose morning praise,
her songbirds sip and flutter, greet new days.

Inspired by: Thorough, Shibboleth, Incandescent and Ruction and this moth who came for the morning poem creation.

Like Ghosts Upon The Water

Just at dawn, currents of symbolic air
disunite the water’s borders. Beware
misty apparitions rise and float pale
and eery. A river of souls sets sail.

Inspired by: Symbolic and Disunite.

My apologies. This morning I was a bit frazzled, and since I’m unable to update Safari, WordPress won’t allow me to make any edits or use more than half a screen. So the first part of my poem today didn’t make it. And my links were all screwed up as well.

The Plight of Pain

“He tilts their tired faces gently to the spoon….The wires in the walls are humming some song, some mysterious song, bars in her head beating frantic”~Joni Mitchell

My mother grows translucent as dawn’s sky
she misses every morning. Sleepless nights

wracked with pain and only breath mastery
can bring control. There’s no relief in sight.

And even so she hobbles through this one
clear moment to the view seeking the sun

and blooms she’s planted, the window braving.
The ferns’ furcate venation, forks waving

soft sighs, romantic promises of life
eternal, lovely gentle green unseen

and all the angels’ wafture through the screen
could lighten and delight, could ease her plight

but energy is gone, the morphine calls
and tiredly she slips out of pain’s thrall.

Inspired by: the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt “igh”, Symbolic, Venation, Frantic and Disunite.

It’s Nature’s Way

Under the dull metal sky, I mist-walk
skin delights in warm drops. We sizzle. Talk
erogenous zones. Sensuality
rises to treasure life. Reality

comes furnished with story, yet nature’s glory
pregnant with bodacious charm, twists my arm.
Here I find myself breathing even while
struggling death is heaving, I can smile.

Inspired by: Pregnant, Erogenous, Furnish and Bodacious.

Nature’s Song

Early barefoot walk, scaring up geese, great
blue heron, half a moon, and sun’s east gate
to song. It’s a new day. Fluttering white
moth. I pray to be impervious light

as everything moves away, across, through
skies with ease I long for. Songbirds’ trills true
and simple; the conglomerate no hate
can touch, for fear is a construct, man-made,

and I am woman, strong. Concinnity
laud-glory poems praise sanguinity.
Peace even as her old bones crepitate
the crackle of death song they medicate.

Inspired by: Impervious, Conglomerate, Concinnity and Crepitate.

Bring It

In the morning, I’ve already evolved
from last night’s poem, a springboard. How love
propels us through unthinkable challenge.
How we waken in subsequent balance.

I walk like a dancer, shaking my ass.
And it’s so wet, bare feet leave trails on grass.
Shedding the controversy, reconcile.
This open heart summons the nuanced smile.

Bolstered by coffee, so the headache’s gone
I’m ready for the journey. Bring death on
its precipitous rushes and slow falls.
I’m here alert, lucky to feel it all.

Inspired by: Subsequent, Nuance, Controversy and Precipitous.

Featured image: the snowball hydrangeas are blooming.

Every Silver Lining

Making the shift before dawn, terrible
news confirmed. White coats ring a doomsday bell
and everyone breaks down and cries. The fight,
the lake, even the clouds gleam silver light.

Pragmatic, slow-cooking big slabs of meat,
the dying and the living still must eat.
Placing ferns out to catch this misty rain
before they come to cheer the house again.

I consult the death doulas, that special few
who graciously share their unique juju.
We’re reaching the transition when each breath
slow and calm may release her to sweet death.

Inspired by: Terrible, Pragmatic and Juju.