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Cut

Posted in poetry, tagged , , , , , , on July 22, 2025| Leave a Comment »

Let your hopes, not your hurts, shape your future. (Robert H. Schuller)

CUT—

The little girl stands

on her imaginary stage

made of ordinary maroon carpet on an everyday Thursday afternoon

sometime in mid-1950. A popular song

drifts into the living room

from the kitchen where Mommy cooks,

scrubs the floor, and complains about how quickly

three kids get it dirty again.

She thinks she may be pregnant with her fourth child. 











The girl mimics the trills, the rises and falls,





and emotions in the melody,





her gentle vibrato promising a





clear soprano voice one day.










Mama appears, wielding her wooden spoon.





So-who-do-you-think-you-are?





Mommy turns away without striking.





Yet, the girl hears the warning





and retreats into the dark, silent spaces





between the lace curtains and window.





The song will not disappear.





She hears it inside her head





and saves the sound for a safer moment.











					
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An Argument With Me

					

					Posted in poetry, tagged , , , , , , , ,  on July 11, 2025|
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An Argument with Me At 2AM





Overactive Subconscious mind, stop.





This is not a suggestion.





Me, I am talking to you.





Eyes close. Now.















Memory and imagination,





you can have the computer tomorrow.





Lay off the coffee and fears,





and I will do what you say.





It is time to sleep.





Know-it-all voice,





it is too late for abstinence.





Ask a storm to disassemble.





I cannot hear you.





You hear me fine.





Think about moments of joy.





Live them again.





Then breathe in and out,





out and in.















Smile. We’ll play again tomorrow.






					
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Lower Case i

					

					Posted in poetry, tagged , , , , , ,  on March 30, 2025|
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Creativity is as important as literacy.
Ken Robinson















Lower case i










Somewhere in the middle of a word, i speak,
a diminutive letter, the only one with the tiniest circle






above it, a miniature darkened sun.
In the previous three lines, i appeared twelve times.






i can’t stand alone without criticism.
Both arrogant and learned folk






declare i am too lower-case to support verbs
that indicate action. Run, magnify, fly,






create, destroy, interrogate, pierce.
All i ask in this poem is one moment’s notice.






Because—possible does not exist without me.










public domain image




















					
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Everyone Knows

					

					Posted in poetry, tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,  on February 25, 2025|
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Indifference is the essence of inhumanity.
George Bernard Shaw





Everyone Knows





Everyone knows my name, face, and products.
I appear on screens across the world.
Wealth and I speak a coded language,
encrypted inside green and silver.
Luxury touches every corner of my existence.
I touch no one. Distance keeps profits safe.





Then, for fun, I bet my associate, “If I walk
through one of my factories in a central state
and someone recognizes me, another layoff is possible.
The workers are not watching what they are doing.”





I did. One of the older men on the line
almost ran into me.





“Geesh, do you know who that is?”
another man whispered. He was loud as thunder.
“Quiet, Jake, his son was laid off last time around.
He couldn’t feed eight kids
no more. His baby died last week.”





I finished my check without adequate
detail. I will send someone from my staff
for the next inspection. Workers need to watch
where they are going.










originally published in For a Better World




















public domain illustration






					
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Challenged, a poem

					

					Posted in poetry, tagged , , , , , , , , ,  on January 14, 2025|
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“In every walk with nature, one receives far more than he seeks.” 





 John Muir





Challenged





My stanzas seem
to lie on the page
as tired, fractured syllables, rootless.





And then I read nature poems by
Oliver, Dickinson, or Thoreau,
for inspiration and imagine being





inside the bark of an oak,
the heart of a bobcat,
or a fish at the end of a hook.





I travel from my familiar home
to mysterious lands continents away
in a crude handmade boat, jump





from its side and swim in uncharted water,
my purpose, to touch, absorb, and respect experience
words can touch yet never capture.






					
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Calendar

					

					Posted in poetry, tagged , , , , , , , , , ,  on January 7, 2025|
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Seize the day. Then let it go. Marty Rubin





CALENDAR





An unopened calendar
Three-hundred-sixty-five blocks of freedom
expressed in flat, pristine landscapes.
Utopian, untested.





Found, the same unopened calendar
stuffed into a cardboard box
forgotten in a dusty closet
pages sealed, without risk, discovery, or fulfillment.






					
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Nature’s Creations 101

					

					Posted in poetry, tagged , , , , , , , , , ,  on December 1, 2024|
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In their innocence, very young children know themselves to be light and love. If we will allow them they can teach us to see ourselves the same way. Michael Jackson 


Nature’s Creations 101

A young boy clasps a crayon with his fist
and draws an oblong, orange sun
with long uneven spokes.
He scribbles a
blue-clouded sky.
His big brother points out
the real sky
with patterns his kindergarten
colors can’t imitate.
The boy wads his drawing and his art into a ball
and throws it at his sibling.
Their mother grabs the crumpled paper.
She tells her sons
Nature creates superb designs.
But the sun is too hot
and too far away
to fit on the refrigerator.
Could the child please try again.
And, would Big Brother
please tend to 
another art work Nature has provided.
The lawn needs to be cut.

					
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Earth Dwellers

					

					Posted in poetry, tagged , , , , , , ,  on November 24, 2024|
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The greatness of a community is most accurately measured 
by the compassionate actions of its members.  Coretta Scott King




Earth Dwellers

We walk together,
as if our feet were bare,
our lives open to one another.
My life and yours, shared.
The rocks between our toes,
the small grains of sand,
the sun, the rain,
the everyday, the sublime.
We are a part of it all.
And I am grateful.


					
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We Call It Vision

					

					Posted in poetry, tagged , , , , , , , , ,  on November 10, 2024|
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I was ashamed of myself when I realized life was a costume party and I attended with my real face. (Franz Kafka)


WE CALL IT VISION

Sometimes poetry speaks truth better than lines of fact. The first haiku carries 5, 7, 5 syllables. The next five lines, a tanka, delivers truth in 5, 7, 5, 7, 5 syllables. 




SCENE OF THE HANGING OF BLACK MEN 

” I don’t see color,”
says a white man to lynchings
as he leaves the room.



COMMUNITY

The flower sees bees
coming and opens petals.
Possibilities.
Plant and insect share alike.
Even as the stem stands still.















					
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Cut–

					

					Posted in poetry, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,  on October 5, 2024|
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Let your hopes, not your hurts, shape your future. (Robert H. Schuller)

CUT—

The little girl stands
on her imaginary stage
made of ordinary maroon carpet
on an everyday Thursday afternoon.

A popular song drifts 
into the living room
from the kitchen where Mommy cooks,
and scrubs the floor.

She complains about how quickly
three kids get it dirty again.
The girl listens to the music and
mimics the trills, the rises and falls,

and emotions in the melody,
her gentle vibrato promising a
clear soprano voice one day.
She would have added gestures

for her make-believe audience,
but Mommy appears at the doorway
wielding her wooden spoon.
So-who-do-you-think-you-are?

Mommy turns away without striking.
Yet, the girl hears the warning
and retreats into the dark, silent spaces
between the lace curtains and window.

The song will not disappear.
She hears it inside her head
and saves the sound
for a safer moment

when she will lead her 
children to follow dreams,
write, discover subtleties,
laugh, cry, or simply be.	



					
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