Oplatek

This is a new holiday poem about a Polish tradition that my family practiced on Christmas Eve.

Oplatek

A wafer
not blessed
but made
by the nuns.
Embossed with
the nativity.
Distributed among
those gathered
on Christmas Eve.
Greetings are exchanged,
accented by the crack
as pieces of wafer
are traded.
To the child,
the tradition is
a competition.
The challenge-
collect as many
pieces as possible.
But the adults know
the true gift
of the ritual
is time spent
with loved ones,
even if it is only
a few seconds.

Eclipsed

 Eclipsed

At first, the moon

was a dazzling white.

Then earth began

to cast its shadow.

Blackness edged

over the top.
It obscured just a piece

and then it stopped.

What remained visible

had a golden glow.

Changed by the darkness

but still beautiful.

The Reluctant Baker

This is the one time of year that I bake. I make only a couple of the many cookies my mother used to make at Christmas. Even after many years, this is not in my comfort zone, but I don't want to give them up. Maybe I need to make sure the memories are well done.

The Reluctant Baker

I am the reluctant baker.
I carry on by making your
Christmas cookies each year.
I should never have been
more than your assistant.
As a young child,
I only kept you company
while you did all the work.
Later, I helped with the easy parts,
like prep work or filling and folding.
I never made the dough.
No, that was your domain.
I will always remember the year
I came home and realized
there would be no cookies
unless I was the one who
mixed all the ingredients.
I did all the work as you watched,
able only to keep me company.
Now, I have friends who count on me
to make the cookies each Christmas.
They have become mine.
For me, they will always be yours,
but not quite.

John "Buck" O'Neil

Today is the 100th anniversary of the birth of Buck O'Neil. There is an exhibit about his life in the changing gallery at the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum that will be up through February 5, 2012. The exhibit uses the work of visual artists and poets to help tell the story of Buck's life and his impact on others. Below are just a few things I believe he taught us.

Buck Up

Make the most
of the opportunities
you are given
and work to
give more
to others.
Honor your history, but
always move forward.
Accept that life
will hand you
disappointments,
but avoid actions
that will cause
disappointment
in yourself.
Never hesitate 
to share a smile.
Most of all, love.
Oh yeah, love.

Movin' On

One day, I was riding in a car going south on I-35. I saw a group of dogs walking by the railroad tracks. The thing that struck me was they weren't barking or chasing each other. They were just walking single file.

Movin' On

Six dogs walkin' by the track.
Looked like they were travelin' in a pack.
I wondered if they had gotten lost,
or if out of their homes they'd been tossed.
Lazily, they made their way.
Meandering on a sunny day.
Didn't seem to have a worry in the world.
Weren't bothered by any sounds they heard.
Six dogs walkin' by the track.
I noticed that they never looked back.

Reflections

Today is the 97th anniversary of the birth of Lillian Pond. Know as Lil, not Lily, she was kind, loving, never met a stranger and had a great sense of humor. She loved to tell stories, especially about her eight brothers and sisters. My sister and I called them "Fractured Fairy Tales", after a segment on Rocky and Bullwinkle. So, Mom, here's a piece of "fan mail from some flounder."

Reflections

You watched my reflection
in a shiny metal bread box.
Kept an eye on me
from another room
when I thought
you weren't watching.
Spoke to me
when I couldn't see you,
but you could see me.
You still do the same
when I look into my heart
and see your reflection.

Stormy Day

 It is literally a stormy day today so I thought I would post this poem about a figurative one.

Stormy Day

The front
moves in,
bringing
not a chill
but a
bleakness.
The clouds
gather
and darken.
Anguish
thunders
and the
downpour
begins.
Reality
sets in.
You are
gone.

Something in Their Eyes

Something in Their Eyes

There was something
in the eyes
of those who were
trying to rescue them.
They had already seen:
fire and smoke
ignited by heated rhetoric
and hatred;
loss,
although they had no idea
how much there would be;
debris
that would be
searched and searched
to try to provide certainty
to so many families;
the skyline,
forever changed by absence
but eventually to be renewed.
By the time they emerged
from the building,
there was something in
the world's eyes.

Blowout

With storms past, present and future in the news lately, I am posting a poem I wrote about Kartina. It is also one of the few poems in which I have drawn on my knowledge of sports.

Blowout

The presence of the Saints
was scattered throughout New Orleans.
Black and gold T-shirts, caps and jerseys
were a common sight.
Suddenly, the shirts were soaked with flood waters,
the caps were used to wave down rescuers
and the jerseys engulfed loved ones
and absorbed their tears.
This touchdown was not cheered but feared.
Numerous fumbles ensued
and the recovery is still a work in progress.

Windows

Poetry is about expressing the traditional in a new way. Here is my twist on an old adage.

Windows

Look into my windows.
What do you see?
Sometimes the windows
are bright and shiny,
allowing a clear view.
Sometimes they are tinted,
keeping you from looking in
while I look out.
Sometimes they are closed,
blocking the view completely.
Look into my windows.
Maybe one day,
I will let you
see my soul.

Camera Shy

I planted a garden in memory of my sister that is supposed to attract butterflies. I have had a couple of beautiful visitors in my yard. I seem to be very attentive to their appearance whenever I am outside.

Camera Shy

Shy butterfly,
won't you
sit for me?
Stop zigging
and zagging,
dipping but
not lighting.
No, your
air show
continues.
You refuse
capture, even
by a lens.

Slam Drunk

I wrote this a little more than a year ago. Unfortunately, I don't think the climate has changed.

Slam Drunk

Our society has become slam drunk.
We no longer disgree, we destroy.
We cannot merely take exception,
we must totally tear down.
We have an all or nothing
attitude on every issue.
Nothing will progress
unless we all begin
to focus on our best interests
instead of our best insults.

Heat Lightning

Summer has hit the midwest full blast. The following is based on a true story.

Heat Lightning

Out in the city
in July
when a flash
lit up the sky.
"Just heat lightning,"
said one guy.
Heat turned liquid
in the blink
of an eye.

Family Quartet

This poem is a snapshot of my siblings and I.

Family Quartet

Two boys
Two girls
Two brown eyed
Two blue eyed
Two dark haired
Two light haired
Two right-handed
Two left-handed
Now, just two

The Resting Place

My poem "The Resting Place" is included in a group of Memorial Day poems published in The Rusty Truck ezine.

http://rustytruck.wordpress.com

The Next Step

This is another poem that came from a news story. This one was about someone young who made a serious mistake.

The Next Step

One slip into disaster
It couldn't happen faster
One choice can start
to tear a life apart
Soon the time will come
to face what has been done
Another choice comes into play
The path to take the rest of the way
Summon the courage you will need
to go forward at your own speed
Don't let one wrong step you take
be the last mistake you make.

In His Garden

Today's posting is an ekphrastic poem, one inspired by another art form. The inspiration is the Water Lilies triptych by Claude Monet that includes panels owned by the Nelson Atkins Museum of Art in Kansas City, the Cleveland Museum of Art and the Saint Louis Art Museum. The three panels are being exhibited together for the first time in more than 30 years through the cooperation of the three museums. The inspiration for Monet's paintings of water lilies was the artist's own garden in Giverny, France.

In His Garden

In his garden,
the artist
created
in water.
In his garden,
the artist
discovered
a lifetime
of work,
transferring
impressions
from water
to oils.
In his garden,
the world
found an
iconic image
where oil
and water
mix perfectly.

Memories

I wrote this poem for a friend who was moving out of town, but I also shared it with the grief support group with which I volunteer. I think we always have to "start anew" after a loss and look to our memories to support us.

Sadly, I will miss a comment on this poem and all those going forward. My sister died suddenly at the end of March. She was a special part of my journey into writing poetry and I will carry her with me as I continue on.

Memories

Carry us with you

as you start anew

and we will always

be part of you.

When you need to laugh

or can't help but cry.

When the joy overwhelms

or the hurt undermines.

When you need support

or support others needs.

When the challenges grow

or the triumphs exceed.

Call on us often

no matter the mood

and we will always

be there for you.

No Closer

The moon was closer to the earth Saturday than it has been in 18 years. Unfortunately for me, the clouds were even closer.

No Closer

A closer moon
A brighter glow
What would
the nearness
help us know?
Would the view
of each crater
be greater?
Would a gust
kick up
moon dust?
What would
we see
due to
closer
proximity?
Our scrutiny
revealed
nothing new.
The crowd
of clouds
got the
better view.

Mix Up

Some friends of mine were going to perform poetry and music one evening. Unfortunately, the bar they were going to perform in got closed down that day. They didn't find out until they got there and the door was locked. Just had to write about it. The situation also gave me a rare chance to combine poetry and basketball.

Mix Up

Amid the hustle and bustle

of basketball games,

the bar would offer

music with a poetry chaser.

An homage to the Doors and

reflections on "The End."

Alas, the end came

before the beginning.

There was only

one door through

which to access

this collaboration

and, to eveyone's surprise,

it remained locked.

The bar was closed,

not because of

a personal foul,

but due to

a simple violation.

Baby's Blues

This was one of the first poems I wrote as I began this journey of writing poetry. Even though my mother had died several years earlier, her loss through Alzheimer's disease was one of the first topics that came out in my poetry. I am the youngest in my family and my mother often introduced me as the baby. When I got old enough to roll my eyes at that introduction, she would remind me I would remain the baby, no matter my age. By the time she died, she no longer had that memory.

Baby's Blues

You said I'd always be your baby.
Now, you ask if I'm your sister.
You say I'm not your daughter.
You no longer know me,
but I'll always be your baby.

Snow in Spring

Last year, we had snow on the first day of spring. Today, we are having a thunderstorm in February. Today's post is about last year's snow. The thunderstorm will probably pop-up later.

Snow in Spring

Like snow on the first day of spring,
the unexpected falls in our path.
It may be serendipity or tragedy.
The former reflects the light
and covers us like a warm blanket.
The latter clouds our vision
and sends us sliding
down the street.
It is easy to snuggle up
to the pleasant,
but the painful tests our skills.
These are the times we must
remember to steer into
the skid and hang on.

Valentine's Hangover

One of the regular readings/open mic's I attend at The Writer's Place is tonight. This month, the event has been named Valentine's Hangover. When I began to think about what I might read during the open mic segment, I decided I should write something new with the same name as the event. Here is my version of a

Valentine's Hangover

Hearts that

once held

center stage

sit in

shopping carts

marked with

50 percent

off signs.

Greeting cards

purchased in

anticipation of

reciprocation

lie in

the trash

without

a mate.

Leftovers

from a

romantic

dinner

sit in

the 'frig

likely to

go to waste.

The weight of

"might have been"

or

"used to be"

bears down now

but is carried

year round.

Resilience

This was inspired by a talk I heard at a luncheon. In my opinion, the speaker didn't just persevere. She experienced a loss of faith in her abilities and overcame that to refocus on, and eventually, attain her goals.

Resilience

Bounce
back from
disappointment
Stretch
to reach
a new goal
Adapt
to any
situation
Adjustments
become
second nature
Remember
who you
want to be
and
Recapture
the conviction

The Right Way

I wrote this poem about a year ago after watching some news commentary. I had fun playing with the word "right" to express the wish that we could find some middle ground.

The Right Way

Am I all right?
If I'm all right,
are you all wrong?
What if we're both
a little right and
a little wrong?
If we take my right
and your right,
maybe we can make
things all right.
That makes us better
when we work together.
Right?

Rhythms of Life

This is another poem about life's ups and downs with a touch of a music analogy thrown in.

Rhythms of Life

Bashful or boasting
Careful or crashing
Grateful or grieving
Joyful or jarring
Peaceful or pounding
Soulful or shocking
All you can do
is keep moving
to the beat.

Impressionism

I have mentioned before that I draw inspiration from the visual arts. Sometimes a specific work will give me an idea. Often, spending time at a museum or gallery seems to jumpstart the writing process for me. This poem is about a group of artists whose work I enjoy.

Impressionism

Artists suggest
the scene.
Patrons fill in
the details.
All take
ownership
for the part
of themselves
they leave behind
in each piece.

Lifetime Guarantee

I wrote this poem after seeing an exhibit at Kansas City's regional office of the National Archives. The exhibit was about the year 1968. As I was reading about and remembering the various events that took place that year, I could feel some of the emotion I attached to those events coming back, too.

Lifetime Guarantee

Repaint the scene.
Replay the words.
Recall the action
and the reaction.
As you do,
the feelings
creep up on you.
Time passed
is irrelevant.
Emotions have
no expiration date.

Resolutions

New Year's resolutions tend to be heavy on the declaration and light on the follow through.

Resolutions

In the new year,
I will make
the changes necessary
so that both
me and my world
will be perfect
in my eyes.
What's that?
I can never
make that happen?
I thought the question was
"Did I make any resolutions?"
not "Will I keep them?"