Landai for [name redacted]

When I think of you, this beating heart
Swells, like an ocean wave flowing toward the shoreline,

Without you I feel a bit adrift,
A little sail-boat unmoored, alone on the ocean

I love you like the waves love the sand,
Even if I know I'm made for depths and great journeys --

You will be there with me in each gale,
Yet staying means I'll never get to where I'm going.
Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

 

 

A rather melancholy group of landai, inspired by FOWC: Swell.

I hesitated, but…

A reverse cherita, written while hiding in the restroom of a bookstore, so that the person involved would not see me cry (yet). 


 

There are multiple reasons, but there's one
That makes me seem altruistic: I'll tell you 
That you shouldn't need to deal with me. 

I love you, but this has gone on for long
Enough now, I'm collecting my thoughts, writing goodbye

Gotta get back out there, pretend I wasn't crying. 
Photo by Tomer Dahari on Pexels.com

Deep Emotions

I love the quotation and really relate to it. However, the fact that Sylvia Plath said it concerns me… 😅 see this poem of mine

I am not feeling forlorn or despairing today but just wanted to share that. Here is a poem I wrote today on a similar theme:

Out of compassion,
My soul yearns for connection —
In my heart always

Even if you forget me
Memory will be precious

I want to be a part of it —
The biggest hug in the entire world.
I want to be engulfed, enveloped,
Held by Love itself, and feel
The biggest hug in the entire world.
But there are gunshots and I cry instead.

Enough for Today

My free-verse response to Brian’s prompt, “back to basics.” It also uses today’s Dictionary.com Word of the Day, tenebrific.


I'm afraid of the future. 
Every day seems more tenebrific,
Potentially terrifying, not terrific
Drought and shortages,
Heartbreak not far away

Later will this be sufficient?
I profoundly feel deficient,
How much of what there is can stay? 

But I have enough:
Food, water (coffee),
Physical and mental shelter 
And even Love and Hope
For today.

Side note: The word “tenebrific” reminded me of the Holy Week liturgy called Tenebrae, plus the word “terrific!” 😀

Bouquets of Roses

Woman
Clothed with the sun,
The moon under her feet,
And on her head a diadem:
Twelve stars

Mother
Of Christ’s body,
Praying for her children:
Let’s give her bouquets of roses
Today

Happy Mother’s Day!

Our Lady in Revelation 12:1 - "And a great sign appeared in heaven: a woman clothed in the sun ...

A Carl Sandburg Cento

This is a cento that I wrote (or, more like compiled) yesterday. A cento, which was our challenge for the last day of April, is a poem that is made up entirely of lines from other poems. I had a great time writing this yesterday, and it was awesome to mine the section of the Bartleby site that included Carl Sandburg’s poems. In addition, I perused my old copy of The Complete Poems of Carl Sandburg. 🙂

This was from yesterday because I used up all my brainpower and haven’t had much today. Again, I started 9 or so poems and barely finished a thing!


a vintage typewriter
Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels.com

PILE the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo.
Time runs with an ax and a hammer, time slides down the hallways with a pass-key and a master-key, and time gets by, time wins.

And yet—of all “and yets” this is the bronze strongest—
I will stand up and say yes till the finish is come and gone.
I will keep you and bring hands to hold you against a great hunger.

The time has gone by.
The river twists in a letter S.
How many times can death come and pay back what we saw?

Out of this prairie rise the faces of dead men.
I might ask: Who are these people?
The story is never told —
Long as the reach of time and space.

The poems from which I took the lines are, in order:
[“Grass”]
[“Let Love Go On”]
[“Flash Crimson”]
[“Fire Dreams”]
[“Mascots”]
[“Never Born”]
[“Letter S”]
[“Mist Forms”]
[“Haze”]
[“Just Before April Came”]
[“Woman with a Past”]
[“The Mist”]

My Mother Takes a Photo of Newborn Me

As a response to Fandango’s Flashback Friday and “inspired” by my previous post, I looked in my poetry notebook for April 29, 2019, and the surrounding days. I actually found several good poems, and not all were horrifyingly honest. However, some of them… *cue actual flashbacks*

Sharing this one, written 5/1/2019, with NaPoWriMo day 29 because it is tangentially related to today’s prompt about “blessings and a curse” given to you at birth. I will write one for that today or tomorrow, but it probably will not be shared here. 🙂 Nevertheless, I appreciate the prompt and think it will be a salutary exercise.


In the NICU, you looked so small,
Yet so perfect, so beautiful.
I have hopes for you, my little girl,
And I hope you love this life
You’ve already had to fight for.

I cannot hold you yet, can only
Touch you gently through this little window,
But I hope you know my love,
My love, I hope you know.

baby holding person s index finger
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The Smallest Glass of Love

“‘Oh.’ the priest said, ‘That’s another thing altogether — God is love. I don’t say the heart doesn’t feel a taste of it, but what a taste. The smallest glass of love mixed with a pint-pot of ditchwater. We wouldn’t recognize that love. It might even look like hate. It would be enough to scare us — God’s love. It set fire to a bush in the desert, didn’t it, and smashed open graves and set the dead walking in the dark. Oh, a man like me would run a mile to get away if he left that love around!


Another quotation from The Power and the Glory by Graham Greene, which I am still reading. For One-Liner Wednesday. I have read that one of the Church Fathers (I don’t remember who) said that the fire of God’s love is the same as the fire of hell. I don’t pretend to really understand that, but this quotation reminded me of that. Hell is eternal separation from God, and although it is terrible, I have read that those in hell do prefer it to being with God in heaven.

I’m not a theologian, though.