Category Archives: Sunday Night Sonnet

I’ve been writing poetry since I was near about ten. Every Sunday evening I will post a poem, either current or from the vault. I hope you enjoy and can relate in your own way.

December Fall

The hollow acorns spill like fat hail onto the clay
I wonder if the squirrels had their party
When night time comes and silent calmness still
we hear the gunshot pop of the mighty oak seeds
fall onto rooftops and roll to their woody graves

Aye the hibiscus still flitting about
although her petals dry and withered
Sweet smells of night-blooming jasmine
permeate the nostrils instead
as we waft by their perfumed doorway

Dawn’s cloudy turns to sunset’s muted glow
and all between is mix of haze and bright
cool and warm and wishing for snow
but only in dreams does the icy world flow
for here we have wind and sun and fallen acorn hull.

shumard-oak-tree-acorns

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Marie

A photograph of you welcomes
anyone entering my door
It was taken years ago

The scent of tobacco leaves fill my
olfactory memory
Chats by the kitchen table
Home-grown tomatoes and buttermilk
biscuits
Scribbled artwork on the fridge
Crumpled tissue next to the snuff cup

We have the same middle name

Decades of holidays and summer visits
tree climbing
autumn leaf pile jumping
Tag in the backyard
Old toys smelling of age
Walks in the cemetery

You always bought me pajamas and
kitchen towels for Christmas
Now shredded and worn thin

Your birthday card consistently the first
in my mailbox
But this year it never arrived

You always stood at your front door
to watch me drive away

And this is how I will remember you
Furiously waving as if never wanting to say
good-bye.

IMG_7661

Rest in Peace, Emma Marie. Granny. You will be greatly missed.

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A Dance in the Garden

This morning I sat on my lanai
and there I watched a butterfly
it flitted from leaf to bulb to twig
then soared along the crest
of October wind

The bees
they were present too
preparing loquats born
below winter’s moon

And beyond the shrill hull
of locust call
a songbird chirped her
pleasant psalm

And all these things
before the hour of ten
Would if I could have
this morning again

To sit in solitude
with nature
at my shoulders
To notice perhaps
what do not others

butterfly

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To Create

Creators and inventors
before our time
Could they have had an inkling
of what’s to come?

To understand our future
is to know our history
That’s what I tell the children
when they sigh in boredom

All the Haikus in the world
The undiscovered
scribbled poetry
Every painting made famous
long after the painter
left this realm

Can one word
one stroke
one snapshot
one chord
change the world?

The question as ridiculous
as toy glass

But we must continue to ask it

Don’t put away the pen
The world’s heart cannot survive without
it.

leonid_pasternak

Image courtesy of waldenwritingcenter.blogspot.com

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For Today

When we clothe ourselves in the past
we are suffocating our future
like a wool scarf wrapped around the neck
during a long, stifling summer

These photographs on the wall
a reminder of all we have worked for
all we have accomplished
the adventures and the love

I could cry like I did yesterday
and long for the good times
the beginning of a journey
that would indefinitely change its course

I could enshroud myself in regret
and guilt and longing
like I have many times
looking through the cracked mirror

But then I am not breathing
am not truly living
So I must inhale the air of the present
nod to those smiling photographs

Know I have done good in this life
and there is much more to do
unravel the woolen suppression
unbound by the virtue of today’s truth.

 

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When the Sea was Calm

When the sea was calm
I was restless
awaiting the flip
of a mermaid’s tail

And when it did not
come into view
I closed my eyes and
floated for a few

Then the swish of the
shimmering propeller came
and I welcomed it joyfully
and she the same

The sea swirled around us
and we became a team
swimming underneath
the stars and sun
Our movements synchronized
our thoughts one

And the swirls continued
and the restlessness passed
nagging loneliness
lifted at last

Her gleaming essence
my solace in waters of blue-green
her songs always calling to me
Her fondness growing as well
as she inhaled breaths
of my starry air

Then swirls became waves
and waves became storms
we held tight to each other
never washing upon the shore

But there was nowhere to dock
nowhere to keep moored

Our cadence continues
on the high seas
her fins never tire
my feet never sleep

We sometimes dream
when all was composed
when restlessness
was all we owned

But the truth among
the swish and the stars
is that our sea
was never really calm.

blonde-mermaid

Photo courtesy of http://sapphiresirendreams.com/mermaid-lore/

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Not Just Grey Matter

We’re sun-kissed and
exposed
not just grey matter
Hopeless romantics and dreamers
Keepers of secrets
collectors of quartz and jasper

We listen to guitar and synth
and violin

Take out the garbage
bring some in

On this plane we have evolved
no more screaming in the driveway
all is calm

No we are not just grey matter
We are of the same blood
forever connected
unremittingly.

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Time, exxasperated

To the brink of tears over this devilish concept time
yet it is as concrete as mathematical equations
(perhaps a parallel universe where time actually does stand still exists)

Live in the moment we say to our ADD brains
and sometimes we do
These days it does not compute

The clock is spinning and there is a lump in my throat,
heaviness in my heart
from all these sunrises and sunsets seemingly happening within seconds of each other

And I am not getting younger
and neither are you

I don’t like it like this

I need space and freedom and time
time to just sit with you
and watch the tops of the trees
time to breathe
to just be.

clocks

image courtesy of pretzellogic.org

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In the Quiet of the Evening

In the quiet
the quiet of the solitary evening
my ears are laid to rest

I do not have the usual music playing
to remind me
to excite
to awaken
to inspire me

Instead there is stillness
a slight hum from the motherboard
a distant helicopter buzzing east

I cup my left ear to hear the sounds in the proposed silence
and they are magnified
almost sound as if a hundred crickets are singing me to sleep

This absence of noise is welcome
my ears need a break
my mind needs space
my heart needs to feel, ache, mend, hope.

 

 

 

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Quiet Symphony of Spring

The loquat buds are ready to greet their buzzing partners
and the crows have taken over the birdsong symphony

A sheath of grey pink cloud hovers over the bright white sunrise
Remnants from last night’s rush of spring rain fall from the branches like tears down a round cheek

A scattering of soaked leaves plastered to the ground

The lounge chair moved to view a sunset days ago

For a moment time holds still
No work to bind
no nagging unfolded
frustration at bay

A bud of hope in this heart
that I may again relish the sunset with you
and awake in your embrace
on the crest of a slow-moving sunrise.

 

I wrote this a month ago. But it seems silly to leave it in my drafts section. I hope you enjoy and take/feel something from it. How do you feel this spring?

 

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