Preserved In Amber

Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.~Kurt Vonnegut

In dreamtime we meet with delight, nightly
adventures though the bridges between us
we burned in our hubris, deemed unsightly,
so now in real life, we’re Mars and Venus.

No man can hold a candle to you. Climb
in the realms where we seize now with whole hearts.
Forgiving is easy outside of time.
Ring my doorbell, and let’s refine our arts.

Inspired by: Candle, Amber, Hubris, Seize and my stubborn, slowly melting heart.

Kaleidoscopes in Love

Photonic light frequencies amplify everything, lifting the self-imposed veils so you may examine, release and clear what does not serve. Zero focus on what you don’t desire. Amplify the Light and it will blast the distortions into a faded memory.~Sandra Walter

I sleep easily in the banshee cries
my mighty intangible ancestry
a river running through me the polished 
stones in my banks hidden treasure revealed 

a cinch though I can’t see, moving in the 
current yesterday’s anguish escapes my 
grip, I’m flow as each distortion rises
to my calling, I am falling in love 

now, this power rising as I receive 
what I project, ah, true love, once so mis-
construed as rainbow-lit sanctuary,
backs turned, the family’s pause just before

entering the box called home.  Illusion
disappearing, darling, it’s time to move 
on, creativity aware passion 
ignites imagination in full flight.

Soundcloud recording here.

Inspired by: Intangible, Cinch, Mighty!, Banshee and the OctPoWriMo Day 16 prompt: turning things inside up and upside down.

Elementary Lifesaving

There are people in this servile world who will endure any trampling, and at the first beck rush delightedly to proffer their assistance.~Richard Jefferies

We meet each successful escapee
with an enquiry to ascertain
their saving idiosyncrasy
once we learned individual gain

is the key.  Rich possibility
a fractal brings lightbeams or a note
flung over the waters, a ring free
for the catching.  You save yourself, float

til a ladder’s unoccupied rung
responsive to the life you’ve sung appears.
Inviting, never command.  Among
the damned, the laughter of the free clears

confused lost seekers seeking outward
rule to bid them hither and yon, fools
scurrying to build an unjust world
poisoned, collapsing, still they fuel…

And how did you finally wake, my dear?
A chance encounter? Every single
tale takes sail in our creation, here
and now in the blooming we tingle.

Inspired by: Idiosyncrasy, Encounter, Laughter and Unoccupied. And the amazing new world unfolding in my work in progress!

Any opening

Here I am, to save the day!
Does my radiant smile sway?
Did I interrupt your terror
engine? You defend error
hands off when I get precise

and stand in question. Advice:
dig in the dirt to expose the roots
and the house of cards lets loose
shifting precarious
appearing nefarious.

My metaphors are bouncing
in your dissonance, trouncing
the diffidence. I aim
for any opening. No game.
Stress kills. Our coping

mechanisms with a daily onslaught
induce injury in ways that ought
not happen when we
embrace collectively.
Come on outside, let’s play.

The nightmare recedes in the day
light of our awakening.
The eggshells of our former lives
are breaking. All around
there is the new sound.


Inspired by: Bounce, Precise, Engine, Hands and Radiant.

And this article by Sol Luckman (don’t miss the eye-opening video by Dr. Andrew Kaufman.)

A Thousand Miles Begins

Only when I walk forever, I have time for now and for you.~Thomas Huebl.

Like a curious time traveller
I arrive into the tribal
village, shaking my rain-
laden hair, blurring the ink
on these cryptic pages.

What is precise is
beyond words. Still, we
chant by campfire. Now
is true love peering
a surprised town crier.

Swimming an electric river
every atom buzzing, aquiver.
Forget the clock claiming
it’s time to scream, 3 a.m.
and nothing to do, only

to be aware of the false lonely.
Attempts to demarcate are made
afraid. This journey, a cascade,
is our masterpiece, ringing,
each essential voice singing

in our own key, a symphony
with all that should be
swirling through the fear
sometimes welcome here.
Allowing what is essential

to burn in this ancestral
fire’s focused laser weaving
lessons of millennia believing
us like chained sleepwalking bells
pulling sounds of now into our cells.

Inspired by Matchbox Twenty since my poem emerged when the clock showed 3. And Lao Tzu’s, “the journey of a thousand miles begins beneath one’s feet.”

Wake Up To What’s Happening

Honey, you’re the reason I can’t sleep at night.~John Fogerty

In the darkness I untangle
the threads of distress

a call from my three-year-old
son, he’s cold, barely dressed

locked out of the house again,
he crossed the busy street

to find shelter with the kind
lady with blankets and heat.

Cue my furious tirade to his father
who’s learned false penitence

repeating won’t ever happen
again–to hush my defense

of the child the state has
deemed safe with no rhyme

or reason besides a sperm
donation. Did I mention that I’m

dreaming? And I am the child,
the unmindful man, the mother

frustrated, the road, the phone,
the imperious state and the other

choices I made to create
this sticky web, the buzzing, frantic

fly more and more enmeshed
in myself, hovering near panic

as the spider I am
approaches til waking slow,

delicately spun, I dissolve
with all the pieces of myself

in tow, arrive into this quiet
astonishment, anticipating light.

Inspired by: Dream, Allegory, Rhyme, and Astonishment.


Dream Job

At night I am a messenger
of love, fleetfooted, waking
the wistful who wander tender
dreams far from their fate, afraid
to wait, immersed in creations
they call burdens. Breaking
under the weight of all they’ve
made. I say, it’s not I can’t,
it is I won’t. My mother may
have swatted me for singing
and so I retracted, distant from
the ever ringing earth
resonates below my soles
and stars pull strings
of celebration far beyond
the otiose satellites. Blinking
in wonder, we feel into
bridges between the worlds
we learned in grief to name
without ever knowing why
it feels like something’s missing.

Inspired by: Wait, Wander, Otiose and Wistful. and the thought that almost stopped me, hmm, this one’s a little weird.


Beyond Our Ken

What do we toss aside as interesting but largely meaningless incongruities? ~ David McGowan

How do we stay awake, moments
and days choked by the woven

pattern which tempts us
to dream? We ignore strong

clues–coincidental anomalies–
for that comfortable snooze.

When I told my doctor that
I healed my fatal illness,

he never asked me how.
He called me noncompliant,

told me never to return.
I bounced past the ashen

patients in his waiting room.
Magic pills destroying them

(I tossed mine away and my
data left the mainstream so busy

counting cadavers.) Yesterday
my grandson stopped midplay,

running to cling to my legs.
Ghosts had claimed the room,

he needed me to sort it out
with my eclectic skills. I praise

the ancestors, investigate the
shadows. Openings at every step

if only we dare to be
present in this uncanny world.

Inspired by: Tempt, Dream and Eclectic.

Shifting Is

I keep catching my speculation
just an hour out of sumptuous

sleep–flying like Icarus,
surely another lucid dreamer.

Waking into this startling plane
with the ability to name, turn on

light switches and grounded
by gravity.  I’m looking through all

the I’s
I inhabit.

These common love-bugs copulating
in mid-air.  Staccato drumming as

a pileated woodpecker
penetrates this precise live oak.

Creative juices flowing
in the sultry air, and love

dominates today,
slipping through my filters

like structured water
cascading down a canyon

to pool lavishly
in every sinuous cell.

Inspired by: Common, Sumptuous, Dominate and Lucid.

Dedicated, dedicated

To Irving, aged 93

In a four-syllable, one-word refrain,
you are the bass that grounds

my sound.  I go soaring
–dedicated–way up high

and come back to you
–dedicated–growly and low.

If I change key on a whim,
curious, you are there.

In my dreams, we sing
a duet, a marvelous weaving

like the landscape of verdant greens
winking from the window

of this plane.  I believed
in you, with the mistaken

notion I should search
–as if a shore would fret

at low tide, left dry and gasping
for that distant pounding surf, just

a low hum.  And with my child
eyes, I know that clouds

escape the vault of heaven
and this fog is the only

remains when mountains go
walkabout.  The pure irony of longing

satisfied by a shift-splash
in perception, hearing the never-

ending song and ah,
I’m so dedicated to you.

Inspired by my cousin’s pure grief at the death of his wife of 67 years, a dream after the funeral, and these prompts:  Curious, Verdant, Irony, Splash and Vault.