The Worst Recipe
4/21/23

My heart is simmering shame
On the back burner,
And it's stinking up the house.
But I cannot lift it,
It is too heavy for me alone.
All the things I haven't done
And should do,
Wishes left so long unattended
They are rankling unfulfilled,
Chopped like vegetables
In a stew.
The smell makes me ill,
I cannot pull myself together.
Please take me away from here.

---

Head in the Clouds
4/21/23

Rainbow paint is the stickiest sort,
As the Centipede learned on the flying peach.
Don't step between artists and their art
Or soon you'll be frozen on your feet.
Tread among cloud-palaces with care,
My friend, while the folk with their muses
Are all in a flurry,
And if you think to linger,
Just remember,
That wonders won't let you leave in a hurry.

Where Dryads meet the Hope of Glory
4/22/23

Brother River, Sister Tree
Star Cousins singing silver in the sky;
Guardians and little spirits, let it be
We seek our Parent, finding why
We play our part in season's song and dance.
Made for love and wonder, we will roam
Through the strangest fractal tapestry,
Embracing interlinked particularity
Until a new world opens, as if by chance
And every Springtime finds its way back home.

Long-distance
4/23/23

A thousand gentle feelers of connection
Branch out through mechanical minds.
My heartstrings splay out in extension
Along aetherial ties that bind
Me to my knowledge of all of you.
I glow golden with joy,
Though my face is lit in monitor blue.
Such power we've found, for good or ill!
We weave cyber networks of community.
From far away, I can care for you still
In many small ways minus proximity.
My words, my art, my listening ears
Still matter in spite of a world so large.
We can shelter and comfort from fears
And the swirl of circumstance's barrage.

[Skipping my bonus one from yesterday because I think it dealt topically with some less g-rated issues.]

The Long Goodbye
4/24/23

I going to build a life without you,
Though I wouldn't choose to lose you.
You were interwoven into almost every part of me.
The way you spiraled and cut ties with loved ones was a tragedy.
But somehow I will take these threads,
The jewel tones from both our heads -
All I learned from your aspirations
And your failures;
Precious citizens of dreaming nations,
Fears and pleasures -
And I'll weave them into something new.
I will use the memories,
And build ruins into something true.

Bonsai Apples
[4/24/23]

I used to feel proud on behalf

Of a bonsai apple tree.

If it could bear fruit I could too,

No matter how small I might be.

But sometimes it may be no sin,

To rest and take the easy path. 

My branch is small and frail within,

Roots still reaching for what's true.

Apples are heavy when you're trying to be.

Perhaps I cannot fruit till I am free.

Susan's Second Adolescence
4/25/23

Of course we don't react the same
When our throne's a broken memory,
And the golden dream vanishes
In the cold grey English morning.
My kind and practical girl,
You wore your shining flowers
With gentleness and grace,
And tried to lead the best you could
While kingdoms sought your hand.
You've been a woman grown before,
And you want to be one among the cobblestones
Just as you were in the forests.
It's just the rules are different here.
Is it abandonment to move forward
Once the door has closed behind you?
Do you paint yourself into a fantasy,
Or make up with battle armor?

I Found Rest in You
4/27/23

This city might not be my home, but you are,
I thought as I lay beside you on your bed.
My nerves constrained me from exploring far,
But I found peace and joy in a narrow room
While your soft dark eyes could gaze into my head.
You bought my path to freedom while I brooded in the gloom.

In your love I found the joy in a place where I'll never live.
Springtime sang to me although the flowers were strange.
Bookstores and birdsongs and four-footed friends could give
More than a touch of wonder,
As we wandered while the seasons changed,
And fog lifted and left me free to ponder.

Editing
4/27/23

I always pare down my edges for acceptability.
Who I'm talking to only determines how severely.
Everyone has their limits, even in therapy.
I'd like it better if you'd just tell me openly.
How much of me is too big for you?
What's overshare, what are your boundaries?
When am I likely to leave the path of safety?
Don't pretend your love is so true
I could tell you anything.
I've been burned that way before, when I took them literally.

May the Good Times Last
4/27/23

Please don't leave me,
Please don't go away.
Please don't be the next one
On the list of broken dreams.
I'm so ashamed to beg,
But I'd love for you to stay.
We have adopted you so thoroughly.
Even my folks believe you're family.
Reminders of you flash joyfully
On many facets of my life.
I see your work in my library,
Your joy in shared myths and dreams.
I see you in the yarn aisle at the craft shop.
You're smiling at my side in every gleam of amethyst.
I want you in my birthdays, in my weekdays, in the moments I can still praise
A Lord we both love though we see him differently.
I fear fracture lines I've met in other folk before.
I hope I am always at home at your door,
And if you want, someday you could live with me.

A Love-poem from The Strays and Rescues
[4/30/23]

Sometimes love walks up to your door
On four feet.
Sometimes you find that it only needed
A kind hand to meet,
A bowl of food to fill its belly,
A place to play with joy
And sleep in peace.
We walk among brief wonders,
Shining sparks of lives
Clad in their whiskers.
The lifespan of a love
Is often so much shorter than our own.
But it still lived.
It prowled and capered,
Listened to what you had to say
Even lacking a common language,
Mirrored your happy moments
And faithfully watched your door.
Love matters, even if it cannot last.
Love matters, even while you know it's temporary.

----

Letter to the Field
[4/30/23]

This is a poem for the seeds,
Scattered and flying and falling.
I'm not sure I believe in fated meetings.
The hand that threw you high
Might be divine or it might be my own;
But oh, my pleasure at the roots you've grown.
I cannot see into the heart of things,
And I know as the old tale goes
(Although in rather different context):
Sometimes the soil may be too shallow
For a friendship to take deep root.
It must shoot up and flair with flowers,
And quickly wither once we pass each other's spheres.
Some seeds though they may long to bond with soil
Are still found by the birds of cruel chance,
Or strangled out by thorns when they have once begun to grow.
But sometimes -
Glad and hopeful times -
They last the years, and we can spring up
Together, watch each other change and bloom,
And reap one another's harvest of extraordinary dreams.
Dear ones, whether in my old walled garden
Or growing somewhere free and wild:
May we be fierce and sturdy together
As dandelions against the dark.