Waiting for it

standing up
to write a poem
at 2 in the
morning
waiting for it to
knock me off my feet
back into bed

Being Open to Being Filled

I have started to practice enough listening
to sense when the words are about to appear
it's become another sense
a natural knowing
like when you need to use the bathroom
or get sick
but nicer and different
more hopeful
anticipating a filling of space
a gush of words
birthing a poem out of the ether

june 11/15

~~~~~~~~

all the people
in one bed
the cats
in a basket

trying to make an
empty house
feel
full

Courting the Familiar - Writing Down the Bones

it has happened again. smoothly. gracefully this time.
it's not like i was prepared - no paper no pencil as the view inspired the voice that brings the words to the surface that make my poems breathe.
but this time was different.
i spoke up. i asked for help. and i received from a child a piece of paper and a found pen - literally found on the still frozen playground.
and so it began again.
like knowing your gas tank just needs gas in it to work.
i'm working again.

________________

recorded while on duty:

sun shines over/on the icy horizon
trees puffed up like fur on
a dog
left outside to find its own
breakfast

trees huddled around the frozen field
kids skipping beside snowbanks
sad remains in the background - abandoned snowmen
their carcasses melted into the ground
returning to landscape

my fingers are turning into
icicles as I record these images
before they melt into memory

soccer ball chipping
across the frozen field
stoic pilons frozen in space

hoodies barely able to
contain body heat
long enough to
release the ball

March 25, 2015
S. V.


inspired by reading Natalie Goldberg's "Writing Down the Bones"
and feeling the ripple effect of SARK's wordplay:
Practice
Love
And
Yielding
and by my husband who has started to archive/record all lyrics with music to keep them alive and breathing.


my next bold move to continue the courting is to put a notebook and pen into a pocket of each of my coats!
:)

Making Fossils

Making Fossils

I’m getting old(er)
I choose to leave the corny words in the couch
With the lost change
Hoping they will bring childish delight
To someone else
When they are rediscovered



{Feb 2009}

Late Night Treat

Late night treat

If it doesn’t gush out
It’s not blood
Or true

Is it bloody false?

If it doesn’t kill you
It’s not horrible
Or painful

Is it horribly beautiful?

Can we mince words like meat
And get something no one will eat?

Do words get all sweet and sour in your mind
But taste funny on your tongue?

Is figurative dance an aphrodisiac?
Or an act of defiance
By those who don’t dance, thank you very much.

What does it make me if I’d rather make up words
Than my face?
Rather play with words than drugstore dreams?

Can we sleep on it or
Do you get in your bed while I seem to float above mine
Testing deeper shores of metaphor and rhyme

Reason always seems to arrive
Before turning on my coffee pot in the morning

But then again I can be terribly polite
In my
Caffeinated state

Feed me words for breakfast
And watch me soar

Housework

Housework

The wind is unrelenting in its
Request
Blowing into each open window
Like it belongs among the
Dust and debris
Of my half packed house

It feels urgent that i
Stand firm
Bending like a tree
Stay on the path
But accept the resistance
That I keep facing

To be present
Experience the swirling chaos
And the calm centre

To start moving forward
Aware of what’s holding me
Together

Not regretting change
Or chance
Feeling momentum building
But keeping daily tasks going
At a steady pace

Load the washer
Clean the dishes
Dust the mirror

Reflect only on what I can
See in front of me
Here
In me

It’s hard to see forever
With your eyes shut

I'm Not Stuck in a Poem

I’m not stuck in a poem

I’m stuck in a life
That tried to
Build a house with
A fence
Leaving the poems
Outside

When I opened the
Windows
And the dust
Cleared
It was the poetry
That came beaming
In with the sun

He Asked Her On a Date

He asked her on a date

Even the question
Came out foreign
A phrase he rarely spoke

Like a wonderful exotic
Magical expedition
Had been proposed

She had not gone out
In years
Before children had slept in her bed

More surprised that
He wanted to be seen in
Public with
Her again

Than that she saw
This small moment
To say yes
Greet her like a horizon
At the end of a long
Tunnel

Glances echoed off their
Faces
Hands and thumbs played
Lap games
Eager not to disappoint the other

The next morning
After some weak
Peppermint tea
She thinks she’s finally
Ready to
Say
yes

Home

Home

The rhythmic, pounding
Pulse
Pulls out of me

What years of
Pushing
Never could

I have become undone
In another world

Birthed into being

By sound

I See You Sleeping

I see you sleeping
and want more than anything
To colour your dreams happy
To remove the harsh looks and words from our morning
To wet your cheek one more time with my kisses
To touch your scalp naked against my palm
To remember how precious you are
Awake
When you swallow every gesture of mine with blind faith
And grow up
In spite of me

Eight Haiku: Steps to Freedom

Eight haiku: Steps to Freedom

Tight fit for my grief
Words spoken, eyes averted
I got canned today

Foible future fears
Relax, it’s all in right time
Perfect time for pie

Empty space fills quick
Rubble and regret fall down
To keep me human

Light lighter than air
Escapes from my lungs on fire
Words burn on the page

Enough is enough
Leave your umbrella at home
Let the sky fall down

Keep the words coming
Nothing left to lose at all
Gain some peace instead

Provoke poems out
You know you can taste them now
Dripping from your heart

See past the mountain
Follow the stars and the birds

the way is clear now

Ease at the Moment

Ease at the moment
Feels like
Creating a linoblock print

Precise
Narrow cuts
Angular and separate
Each surrounded by just enough space
To form a cohesive image

One slip
In any direction
Can distort the purpose
Destroy clarity
Blur the final product

Ease at the moment
Feels like thick ink
Waiting to be pressed into service
Heavy with anticipation
Anxious about when the fated act will happen
If it will hurt
If losing some of itself to a greater purpose
Makes the mess easier to clean up

Ease at the moment
Feels like the blank page
Radiant with longing
Beaming its intentions out into the studio
Knowing the artist can sense its presence
Aware that soon its purpose will be fulfilled
Grateful at the opportunity to serve
To display and uplift a vision greater than itself

Ease at the moment
Takes me to the bottom of the page
To the end of this poem
Past the moment of doubt and
insecurity
Into the fulfillment of creation
And back into the calm
Of knowing

I am at
Ease in
This

Moment

Ease Your Soul/Dusting Duties

Elevate
Alleviate
Elude the dark small talk

enter the light
entrance the one who waits
listening to the words still wet on your tongue

elongate your vision
ease your soul onto the sofa
drink tea and hold hands

envision more for yourself
than dirty dishes in the sink
and what to make for dinner

embrace the possibility that
they expect more from you
than clean clothes
and a full lunch box

you are being watched
for what you bring into the room
their lives
the smiles and tears

staying close to hear their fears
standing by when they want to be alone
keeping the lines open

Love leads
grace dances
life heals

Begin Again

Begin again
In the spiral of nothingness
To gravitate
To grieve
To gratify the immortals
To be guided towards greatness by the whisper of the wind
To wallow thoroughly in your humanness
To dig your knees deep into the ground


Begin again
At the altar or pew
In dark, the dusk, the candlelight will do


Begin again
To feel the ground beneath your feet
To smell the sea in the air
To see your breath through the tears
To remember that once again
To begin again
You must sense the timing and the meaning


We stumble onto our knees
Desperate to be released from our own stubbornness
Our pride – the last ditch effort to outdo the universe
Thinking only we can provide control and collide


The ground is hard and comforting
A railing – perhaps a tree or a bed – holds us up
Through the night we ache
To be nature – natural again
To feel with our senses the sensual pattern of nature
The ebb and flow of knowingness – willingness
To turn with the tide instead of against it


To breathe in the air instead of trying to keep it out of our lungs
To escape into the dark – to find meaning here in the silence and
Imagery of the soul



Earth longing for herself within the willing spirit of a mortal

Cosmic Relations

Cosmic Relations

The biggest blessing
The biggest burden
Pour out of his mouth
Simultaneously

Every path leads out of town
Homes float on their foundations
The sky has been liquid turmoil
For days

The weirdest taste of
Relief
I’ve ever had
Fills every cell in my body

The world smells like
Lilacs
Potential unfurling
Each breath caught
In my chest
Releases a longing
Not yet met

Sadness is washed away
In the storm
Of a life lived
Inside a heavy cloud

When Venus kisses
The sun tonight
I can watch
in sync with the
Signs no one can confirm

Two
once in a lifetime events
In a week
Must be something to this thing called
Destiny

Cheating Time

cheating time and circumstance
she finds some old poems


still containing Real
Truth


words spilled from her heart
to the page
distilling essence to be shared

she decides in her own favour
makes a request - a veto
and dissolves the pressure
of a deadline

the party starts
everyone knows the right song to sing

the way to feel in this moment

she extends herself
stretches the window open
to let the butterflies escape

birds cheer at her discoveries
light fills the room

she puts on another pot of coffee
and races back to the attic

there must be more where

that came from 

Before Eating Lunch

before eating lunch

as the end draws near
she feels relief
that finally what she thought
was true, buried beneath
waves and piles of ‘woe is me’

there is a girl

who still has her feet in the ocean
looking up at hidden stars
in broad daylight
arms outstretched
embracing her immortality
amid strangers on a coastline
before eating lunch
one day in late July

she held onto that
connection
the knowing
through years of storms
and currents that pushed and
pulled on the milky threads
trying to untangle her from
all the greatness and guidance
flowing through her spirit

she opens her eyes and sees once again
the great ships waiting in the horizon
the colorful pebbles beneath her feet
birds circling with wisdom
light surrounding her
lifting the sand from her eyes

revealing her Delighted Essence

just in time


{June 2012}

Cleaning House

Cleaning House

I feel like
If I keep starting at the front of the house
Over and over
Seeking out cobwebs and weeds
Clearing clutter
Reorganizing found objects
I will never be done
Never see the backyard and all the
Junk
That’s piled up
While I was making my face

Look pretty

Caffeinated States

Caffeinated states
Arouse strange suspicions
Paranoia at 10 am is a perfectly insane example
The coffee perks up possibilities of sabotage and missing keys
Of sudden jerky displays of bodily mismanagement

Caffeinated states
Push through the dull ache of lectures and afternoon naptime
Rushing our senses through the mushy fog of dehydration and the need for a chunk of fruit

We flock to the headquarters on each corner
Bruising bumpers and cracking cars open on occasion
It’s all a blur in our
Caffeinated states
The urgency to refill, remove the void of clarity and conscious choice from our grey matter

We joke about it at the water cooler
With mugs and takeout cups substituting for the real thing
Anxious to fit in, say the right things, get the right combination of cream and sugar for the boss

Caffeinated states start young
Take our agile minds and warp them into a laboratory rat’s learned response
We filter nothing
Buy the cheapest grinds
Use any water we can find
Take it all for granted
Are offended by the time it takes to brew another cup
To keep our
Caffeinated states
Brewing through another busy day.

Yearn for Yourself

A mind struggling to find logic
The SPIRIT saying
Let It Be
The body caught between
Emoting thought and wholeness
Beneath the appearance of separate

All reflect and are each other
No thought is alone

We are not alone with our thoughts
They come to One from the Many
It is our desire to stand out
Above
Beyond the crowd that
separates us
From ourselves
Denies our true nature
As one uni
verse

a song of ONE for ONE
one song is all there is
is all we are
need
be

you and I are not different
we belong

Yearn for yourself
Sing to the moon
Be warmed by the sun
Ease into the chorus
Embrace the melody

We are one




{May 2012}