Haiku–Hallowette

Understanding wet
doesn’t make me feel drier;
embracing what is.

halloween stormy

halloween rain

(top: http://www.examiner.com; bottom: nreporter.info)

Posted in Haiku, Holiday, Poem | Tagged , | Leave a comment

That Sparkling Crecendo

Nod and smile:
no commitment,
metaphorical hands in cerebral pockets,
a performance artfully rendered
in a vacuum of open connections
and blithe attentiveness.
Nothing is there
disguised as a vague

thought—the actor acts—
sometimes convincing himself.
How different when passion uncoils
to wrap limb and trunk, squeezing
an idea, a sparkling crescendo
of synapses flashing blue
in the murk of every day.
Imagination: entanglement made simple.

Synapses-Provide-2

synapse

(top: news.softpedia.com; bottom: oneclimbs.com)

Posted in Consciousness, Humans, Poem, Quantum flash | Tagged , , | 3 Comments

Beneficent Predation

(Note: John Muir walked through North American wilderness without a weapon. His agenda was simply to be where he was. But he was also made of steel and knew how to fight. jrs)

Mean-spirited people flourish when
good hearts look the other way.
Ignorance is only bliss for the ignorant.
The rest of us have to stay light on our feet,
trying to understand the laws of Nature.
To avoid being prey, some pray,
some embrace predation in a beneficent way,
some surrender all pretense and leave kindness
in shallow graves scattered across a bleak plain.

polarbear

john-muir

(admirable, yet implacable, predator: video.nationalgeographic.com; gentle John Muir: philosophyforlife.org)

Posted in anger, Humans, Poem, prayer | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

Clock’s Break

clock watcher
present tedium
energy spent
unwise seating

making tea
not exercise
doors close
walls advance

frontal lobes
echo echo
limbic flash
danger calls

rain silvers
locks break
lungs pump
clock stops

tediumVid.m4v

yosemite

(top: moddb.com; Yosemite: sardonycs.net)

Posted in Consciousness, Poem, Slice of Life, Time, Work | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

Oregon Membrane

(Note: I first heard “snort fort” in Leo Kottke’s “Jack Gets Up” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ghHhRklLQzE). I’d love to take credit for it, but can’t.–jrs)

An oddly unfamiliar sound seeps
to me in my snort fort of sheets and pillows.
The dog yawns and my belly
makes a noise like an evening bullfrog
as I stretch and groan to the grey light.
It’s official:
the long dry summer has given way.
Fall puts a membrane of rain
over everything in this Oregon pocket.

rain umbrella

rainy rainbow

 

(top: oregonlive.com; rainy rainbow: greghughes.net)

Posted in Dog, Morning, Music, Oregon, Uncategorized | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

A Sequence Spoken

A poet is a person who makes snapshots,
moments in a sequence spoken
like the tree falling in the forest:
kinetic images for who would listen.

Judgment has little to do with truth;
merit is wholly subjective.
We align if the music compels
an Aurora Borealis in our heads.

The point: connection to Something Else,
a journey however short or long
from ourselves, through
the Universe, and back.

northern-lights-stacked

 

(image: michiganisamazing.com)

Posted in Consciousness, Music, Poem, Uncategorized, Writing | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

Road and Synapse

The gravel on this road long unused
crackles with unfamiliar noise
under my well-worn tires.
My elbow thrusts into hot air,
bared to sun and desert.

Synapses not used in years
fire in solidarity with the road,
transporting me to memory long-buried.
The emotion of it rises and throws
its own gravel against my well-worn heart.

DesertOldPickup

desertroad

 

(top: techsupportalert.com; bottom: landroverclub.net)

Posted in Aging, memory, Poem, Slice of Life, Time | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Unruly Rodeo

Oh, to be a careful writer,
dotting eyes and crossing tees,
always sure of being ruly
as my thoughts tumble to the page
in ordered eloquence, perfectly coiffed
and savored by readers as fine wine.

Reality, though, finds this notion
hilarious in the extreme.
My writing is unruly rodeo:
dense with dust, sweat, and sometimes
bleeds when my lip splits from
a flying horn or kissing the ground.

Pepper 5th District

kiss the ground

 

(top: alittlenewsphoto.com; bottom: mediagallery.usatoday.com)

Posted in Poem, Rodeo, Work, Writing | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

The Prince of Rankle

Rankled.
Can’t sugar-coat it,
just annoyed at everything,
mostly myself.

It’s chemistry.
I should be upbeat.
I should feel free:
the monkey is gone.

I allow the city
to choke my peace.
I have an idea and
pretend it is true.

It may or may not be true.
I’m not sure it matters.
I may not be who I want to be.
I may only be who I am.

rankled

Posted in anger, Consciousness, Poem, Slice of Life | Tagged , | 4 Comments

10 Great Quotations about Poetry for National Poetry Day

I’m happy to reblog this from Interesting Literature:

10 Great Quotations about Poetry for National Poetry Day.

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment