transition

early morning
the air is crisp, cold on
the lungs
the world is lit by

a mixture of oranges
across the prairie horizon
clouds stretching here
and there to make it interesting

leaves crunch under my feet
a tinge of frost icing on
the yellow, browns and greens
that couldn't hold on one more day

winter coats in the morning
windbreakers by afternoon
it's the season of adaptation
preparing, gathering muster

how can the dying be so
beautiful?
trees shedding so casually
unafraid, knowing that this is

temporary

necessary, even

my eyes tear up in the cold
nose running
a cat runs across the yard
and down the drain for shelter

autumn is comforting with
its bright colors
shining just before
dying, letting go

as if to tell us that it's ok
this changing, moving forward
letting go of things that no longer
serve us and give life

trusting that when it all
comes around again
new life will emerge
blossom and shine

making us forget
the cold, the darkness
the shedding of what we love
season of barrenness

if only we hold on

just my imagination

(the writing prompt for today was your favorite toy of childhood)

there were teddy bears and dolls

spirograph and lincoln logs 

charlie the giant stuffed dog that 

was too big to sleep with (though i tried)

what my mother couldn't give in presence

she gave in things to ignite my imagination 

i had a dollhouse made of wood and wallpaper samples

tiny rug samples and homemade furniture

my barbie dolls had a luxurious life 

with a fancy camper and sports car 

their own airliner for their private use 

and a couple of horses  

with all of that at their fingertips 

their lives were most often tragic 

once i learned from beth how babies were made

barbie and ken worked hard at making them 

but then that wasn't interesting enough 

all that moaning and rolling on plastic beds 

so  ken took on different personalities 

of villains and criminals lurking in shadows 

the women never had a chance in the wooden house

but were raped and beaten, left for dead 

covered, at times, with vampire blood in a tube 

until ken resumed his identity and saved them 

sometimes they were run over, fell off horses 

crashed their  sports car or fell from the roof 

i have no proper explanation for the horror suffered 

by my innocent, but very sturdy toys  

there was yelling down in the kitchen 

slammed doors by adolescent boys lost 

in a maze about which i knew nothing  

drinking and wreckless driving, high school abandoned 

i only knew the quiet of the kitchen when i 

came in, no one about, nothing disturbed 

smiles and laughter as my mother made supper 

a fist-sized hole in the bathroom door 

boys, all boys, me the only girl trying to grow 

and learn about the world and when it got confusing 

i played with my dolls in the backyard, the horses 

carrying them far across the vast backyard 

running away 

free 

until they were caught again 

in the spiral of violence, secrets, and horror 

their faces always smiling, even under the blood 

everything was ok everything was fine 

the other bedrooms locked upstairs 

loud music blaring from beyond ancient doors 

mysteries occuring on the other side 

sparking my young imagination 

barbie and ken went at it again 

never making that baby but 

having a lot of fun 

dinah got raped again out on the prairie 

but everything was ok 

everything was fine 

their painted faces 

just kept smiling  

what i know

(the writing prompt was overwhelmed, in the poetry from of Ballad.

this is my attempt)

as a child I loved to play
in the powerful mysterious waves
and pretend i was a might sailor
with stranded passengers to save

i teased the water crashing down
daring it to show its power
back and forth, back and forth
i played my scenes for hours

but the water was too much for me
and grabbed me off my feet
the undertow pulled me down
i knew that i'd been beat

i flailed my arms and sucked in water
suddenly frightened for my life
nothing to hold or grab onto
as the sand cut me like a knife

i sucked in water as i tried to find
a way to stand up straight
i fumbled back to my feet
still unbalanced by my weight

when those days come to me
and it all fades into black
when nothing's really prompted it
but the demons come on back

no one can know just how it feels
to have no sense of control
when the darkness gathers 'round again
and i cannot redeem my soul

it feels like when i was a little girl
 tumbled by the tide
with nothing to grab onto
but all hope in me has died

i say my mantras, i say my prayers
nothing seems to be
as powerful as the curse that haunts
 relentlessly pursuing  me

but so i live and hope and love
followed always by a shadow
learning how to ride the waves
and hope in what i know

what we have

(the writing prompt was what would you do if there were no limits?)

what would I do if 
i could do anything?

i'd get on a plane 
and fly here and there 
i'd visit the oldest places 
to remember who we are 

i'd go to art museums and 
tour cathedrals 
i may stop in that place my 
father never talked about  

shove my way through the crowds
look into the eyes of the children begging 
on the street 
visit the wise ones who lost their teeth 

but whose eyes shine with a peace
unknown to westerners so tied to 
technology and speed and success
through wealth  

i'd take off my shoes 
and visit the taj mahal 
go to the river where sinners repent 
and wash themselves clean 

i want to touch stone that used 
to be houses thousands of years ago 
where people lived and 
loved and did their best to make sense 

out of their existence 

just like me  

i'd go to the henge of stone
sit among ancient rocks
listen to the silence 
wonder at mystery 

i'd do all of it with you 

and then i'd come home 
with you 
write my poetry
listen to my music 

i'd go back to work 
come home and cook supper 
sit by the fire with you 
read our books 

because if i could do 
absolutely anything 
have everything i wanted 
except for a few trips across the world 

i would want 
what 

we already have 

finding my way home

i thought it was normal
it had to be because if it wasn't
then who was i? what was i?
who would deliver me from madness?

you strutted like a king the wisest of all
people reached for you needed you
put you up on a platform that no one
could reach if they were mere humans

the higher you rose the lower i sank
i was nothing i was nobody i was
invisible
in the negative numbers

when i tried to speak truth they
accused me of being crazy ungrateful
a woman born of eve, perhaps
banished from the garden of perfection

i  choked on my own darkness yet you
kept shining your own light in my eyes
confusing, disorienting
twisting any sense of reality i had

into mayhem

i was not alone
people came people heard me people listened
some believed me some lifted me some
sheltered me and even saved me

all unlikely characters emerged in my
dramatic play wearing funny hats but
loving me, redeeming me
inviting me to the horizon the sunrise

you dismantled all my tools deflated any
confidence damning my core
but somehow
somehow

there was just enough breath
left in some hidden corner some obscure
light that would not go out
and suddenly i could walk

i could run

i could go far away

right into the sunrise
the garden that welcomed me home
arms that would love me empower
me strengthen my legs heal

my center

and roll away the stone
that blocked any possibilities
of life
and I

was

free

scary sky games

(writing prompt is the elements; fire, rain, storms..)

"I've seen fire and I've seen rain, I've seen sunny days

that I thought would never end..." 

--james taylor

out on the prairie

the world seems so much

bigger 

the little irritations 

so much smaller

standing on a gravel road 

i can see forever this way

and that 

the sky comes down to kiss

the land

i am sheltered, covered by

the dome of the sky 

sometimes blue with white 

decor 

sometimes overpowering

i can smell the rain before 

it comes

freshness on the wind

dampness, quenching 

a slight breeze can speed 

up into a gale, powerful enough

to knock me over

the trees wave to me to take cover

the air gets darker and heavy

instead of running people come out

on their porches to watch 

the sky do its dance 

there is power, unsolicited anger 

threatening, filling the whole canvas

above 

and i feel the solidity of the earth 

under my feet 

the ground vibrates

as thunder surrounds 

water drenching the earth in 

sudden release 

colors darken and lighten 

sirens scream across the roar 

go back inside you fools

we huddle in the bathroom

listening for the fatal train 

coming to shred our dwellings 

that are no match to the 

power 

so much noise, beating 

like god dumped all of his baseballs

on the roof 

just for fun 

then 

silence 

outside rivers run through 

the streets, people crawl out of

their homes to inspect 

see how lucky they were 

when other's didn't fare so well 

cars drive past surveying 

seeing what chaos the skies left 

roofs and houses shell-shocked 

time to call State Farm 

clouds disperse, giggling 

i imagine 

revealing the blue behind the black

the air silent, still fresh, still heavy 

with damp 

the sky demons go off 

to play their scary games 

somewhere else  

it's all beautiful

(The writing prompt for today was to write about a color and 

the memories attached to it)    

"I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field 

and don't notice it."  

--Alice Walker, "The Color Purple"

you lived your life 

like a paintbrush on the world 

bringing vibrant color to the day

enveloping us all in joy 

i was always relieved to see you

knowing everything would be alright

now that you were here 

to bring calm and humor in equal measure

your dream house exuded the colors 

of the rainbow, a daring expression 

of your spirit that to all of us was 

so 'out there' 

you invited a gathering, people drawn

by your easy grace, feeling safe 

sharing in the sparkle of 

the hues that surrounded you 

every setting of your life was a 

medium for art and creativity 

always shining, the art itself 

your smile into the world  

toward the Last Days your audience

dwindled at your request to just 

me and your beloved as we sat 

vigil with you 

you insisted i have a cup of tea 

and a cookie as if this were a social 

call and not your grand bow as you

prepared to leave the stage

taking your paints and brushes with you

as the sun set upon the lake you

laid in your bed by the window 

watching the ducks, the water, the 

leaves softly dropping, unable to hold on

against november 

you'd had things planned big things 

everything with you was big even the 

little things but you- and therefore all of us-

were interrupted  

through occasional tears you looked out 

onto the soft, chilled air outside 

the many colors of the sky and earth 

as they faded for the season 

and in the midst of all our sorrows 

you said 

"it's all beautiful"  

all of it 

the geese leaving town for warmer climates

the leaves falling in death to winter-cold water

the squirrels clamoring for nuts to stash 

to get ready for what was coming  

"it's all beautiful" 

the vibrancy of autumn 

the harsh cold and snows of Nebraska winters

the beauty of spring
 a time for planting  

all of it 

beautiful  

i think of all the colors 

purple was one of your favorites 

for it's beauty and yet sometimes darkness 

its lenten ambivalence of death and life 

and so the color purple reminds me 

of you, the soothing smell of lavender 

your giggles and joy and silliness 

your defiance of stifling boundaries 

something as inconsequential as death 

i wrap myself, adorn myself in purple 

making peace with the paradoxes 

the sorrow amidst the joy 

the light that dawns in the darkness 

there's so much color 

so much intense color

and it's all 

beautiful