Day of Terror

Last night I dreamed about a plane tumbling out of the sky. In my dream it turned out to be an elaborate hot air balloon (one of two by the way), but the feelings of seeing this 747 dropping out of the sky in my dream caused a profound disturbance in my day today. I did a quick Google search on plane crashes and of course 9-11 topped the lists. During my Saturday meditation this poem came so strongly to me I stopped my meditation to write it down.


Day of Terror

some died screaming
not understanding
what was happening
until they heard
the Arabic proclamation
Allah is the greatest

some died instantly
coffee in hand
sneaking a peek
at one last personal email
before the boss arrived

some died blinded
choking on smoke
trying desperately
to reach more fresh air

some died later
weeks, months, years
succumbing to diseases
caused by hazards
never meant to be inhaled

some didn't die
their bodies continued
something less than whole
without a sole understanding
how they persevere

ltv

"Getaway" and "kids in an empty city lot (1938)"

A couple of new poems from this week. Comments, suggestions, and edits are always appreciated (as is praise, of course).


Getaway

in the evening
the crickets
keep me up
with their incessant
inconsistent chirping
I long for the monotonous drone
of the commuter line
that whooshed past my place
at twenty after every hour
not like here where random creatures
voice their opinions
about the sparsity
of food and love
at all hours of the night
where the darkness
permeates the room
so that I have to schlep outside
to see stars twinkling
above the tree line
I miss the glow of neon
in my living room
and the steady stream
of headlights traversing
the bedroom wall before disappearing
beneath the horizon of my window
this place isn't home
I need to move back
to the city to get away
from all these noisy neighbors
and inconveniences

ltv


kids in an empty city lot (1938)

back then they didn't know
as much as we do now
but something tells me
from their knowing smiles
in the black and white photo
and the arms draped
around each others' necks
that they knew enough
of the things that mattered
and learned the rest
when they needed to

ltv

Lovers Quarrel

In honor of tonight's lunar eclipse.

Lovers Quarrel

brilliant Luna
is gone
not hiding
as she coyly does
throughout her
month-long journey
when sometimes
invisibly she tugs
at the heart-strings
of tides and lovers
pulling them apart
then closer again
no, this is out of her control
though proudly full of herself
she succumbs to the shadow
of the lover she cannot leave
it creeps over her
quelling the beamish
expression of herself
leaving blushes of orange-reds
across her pitted face
it lessens her -- but
tomorrow all will be forgiven
content in her cycle
she never believes
there will be a next time

ltv

Happy Valentine's Day

In honor of the day...

Anti-Valentine

Roses are dead
Violets are too
Sugar is bad
And so are you!


I wrote this one a while ago, but it's one of my favorites:

Forlorn Haiku

water flows uphill
the Sun spins around the Earth
you love me again


This one I wrote yesterday for my sister:

Sometimes Pudding Gropples on Me

Sisters share a rivalry,
a language and camaraderie
that gloating face when reprimanded
looked away when Mom and Dad did
stolen treasures, secret crimes
knocks in closets when doing time
for all the trouble we intended
strange how close we were befriended
even now, lifetimes apart
you are intrinsic to my heart
and though my words model economy
sometimes, pudding gropples on me
but since you've been where I have been
you alway know just what I mean

ltv

And lastly, at tonight's meeting Tommy Twilite read a poem about a little girl at the Haymarket picking out a dessert of her very own. It was a lovely poem. Here was my response to it.

Sweet Dreams

proudly showcased
with one small slice
of pear beside the kiwi
(because the different greens
felt pretty together
astride the twin
split strawberries)

the lights under the counter
make the sugar coating
sweat a little
hoping to be chosen
by someone who
truly wants
the fruity concoction
with firm sweet cream
perfectly set into
a pressed cookie crust

ltv