Eight Poems of Love: #7 ( Poem translated from Spanish by knowledge and guesswork)

1 May

th[1]

Inclined in the afternoon, I throw my sadness to your eyes that hold the oceans.
There my ardor stirs in the greatest solitude, where my arms fly like a falcon’s.
I make red signals over your absent eyes that flow like the waves of the ocean
Alone you guard the darkness, deep and distant and mine, from your vision at times emerges a great expanse.
Inclined in the afternoon, I throw my sadness to your eyes that hold the oceans.
The night birds peck the first stars that glow like my soul when I love you.
The night gallops in a dark shadow, draping blue visages across the earth.
Pablo Neruda
(Questionalby translated by Carol McMillan) 

Old Bits and Thoughts (A poem of remembering)

29 Apr

thQ1RWR51Z

I remember Billy Searles jumping up to kiss me on the cheek

Because I was so much taller than he was.

It was out on the playground.

It was my first kiss; full of embarrassed pleasure.

 

I remember hating family drives every Sunday in Connecticut.

 

I remember visiting Disneyland right after it opened;

It was Christmas. There was a magical swan carriage

Full of Dickensian-dressed carolers.

 

I remember swimming in Waikiki with a smashed finger

That I had to hold

Up over my head

Out of the turquoise water.

 

I remember Harriet Hohmeyer and I

In the woods between our houses

Taking turns jumping off the weathered teeter-totter to

Send the other one crashing down.

 

I remember that my sister bit her nails down to the quick;

Everyone said she was nervous.

 

I remember dragging unbelievably prehistoric-looking horseshoe crabs

Out of the water on Jones Beach, then letting them go back.

I remember Pooty hiding under my parent’s bed and

My dad using the curved handle of his umbrella to

Drag him out by his collar.

I remember wishing that Roy Rogers and Dale Evans were my parents.

 

I remember pedal-pushers and poodle skirts and white bucks

And pin curls and saddle shoes and black flats.

I remember holding hands with Steve “Lyle-style”.

I remember happy, prickly butterflies inside me.

I remember the smell of Steve’s white shirt when we

Slow-danced to Johnny Mathis downstairs in the rec room after

Everyone else was asleep.

 

I remember my mother yelling at Jean when

She scorched her expensive green and white wool

Miramonte High School pep skirt,

And I remember that, even though I was the young one

Who was in trouble way more often, I said,

“Mommy, she didn’t mean to do it.”

 

I remember licking red candied apples till the crust was

Thin enough that I could crunch through it

For a cinnamon-sweet bite of apple.

My sister ate cotton candy, which I thought

Was yucky.

 

I remember watching my sister disappear into the fog, walking

Down Tacoma Avenue on her way to

Thousand Oaks Elementary School.

I remember asking my mother how soon I could go to school.

“When you are five.”

I remember thinking I was three and so

It would be infinity

Before I got to go with her.

April 29, 2016

Christmas (A poem written backwards)

28 Apr

He fell.
Only one precise shot.
Aim had been taken.
The wife had asked for goose.

th5T3217QM

Our Mother Nature (A poem of Haiku lines)

27 Apr

thVZ68PO44

Winsome as the night, crawling through my berry patch tasting deepest black.
Lithe as water falls pouring over smooth-worn rocks, caressing my face.
Impeccable as pebbles rolling on the beach. chattering softly.
Subtle with power, Mother Nature offers me a feast of senses.

Just a Nod (A call and response poem)

26 Apr

th[1]

In front of the group, she assumed I’d read Kant;
I knowingly nodded my head.
He mentioned Ronsard, that poet of France;
I knowingly nodded my head.
Our group spoke of Gaddy, a master of blues;
I knowingly nodded my head.
Trotsky and Lenin, Guevara and Marx;
I knowingly nodded my head.
Kierkegaard, Voltaire, Heliodorus, and Barth;
I knowingly nodded my head.
There’re places and times, I’m embarrassed to say;
I’ve knowingly nodded my head.
It’s not quite a lie…well, maybe it is,
When I’ve knowingly nodded my head.
But sometimes it’s easiest just to agree,
So I’ve knowingly nodded my head.
Please admit to this n0w, and all do it with me:
We’re all knowingly nodding our heads.

What Light! (begun with a stolen line)

25 Apr

th[10]

What light through yonder window breaks?
This window now lies broken!
I do not know which road to take
Now that my window’s open.

I’m free to flee, explore the world,
This jail no longer holds me.
A million thoughts now dance and swirl;
No jailer can control me!

I could go left; I could go right;
I could fly up or down,
Or maybe I should just sit tight…
My visage holds a frown.

I’ve never had to face a choice
So open or so varied.
The world has never heard my voice;
I’ve been so safely married.

Perhaps this all is just too much;
I shall not take the chance.
I think I’ll nail the window shut;
I will not choose to dance.

The Universe is far too vast;
I fear to be adrift.
I’ll crawl back to my comfy past,
Recline my chair and sit.

I beg you not to chastise me
Or judge my choice unkindly.
Forgive a coward’s fear to flee,
I have not chosen blindly.

Domestic Stewardship (A poetic union of the sublime and the mundane)

24 Apr

thEHB0QODI

Crepuscular orange sunlight
Streams through my
Dirty windows,
Exposing ubiquitous dust mites.
Ephemeral as used dental floss,
Incandescent as track lighting,
They circumnavigate my
Smelly sneakers,
Passing dirty socks
On their anitpenultimate journey,
An evangelical mission
Reminding me to vacuum my
Disheveled tenement and thus
Eradicate uncleanliness.
I must foreswear unproductive
Anaerobic exertion to
Embrace perpetual housework.
Epiphany!
A vision of domestic stewardship!

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.