Connection

Connection

There is a hunger for connection

Deep down in one’s soul

Under all the layers

That moment when you cut 

Through all the bullshit that

Surrounds every relationship

And connect

There are no ex wives, old boyfriends, or needy children

The stress from work is immaterial

The unsold house, the bills, the mistrust

It’s not separating us in this instant

There is only the two of us

And the ping rate is minuscule

It’s there and then it’s gone

Back to daily life

One suffers the hum drum of routine in memory of that moment

As the power of two dance before them, drawing them in

And usually spitting them out

But for the rare moment

When defenses drop and we’re given another glimpse

Of what’s behind the great wall of ego and thought

This poem contributed to
dVersePoets Open Link Night #13

Childhood Memory

Chaos reigns as it often does when he’s around

Yet flight is rejected

Only with complete presence can you detect the landmines before they explode

He crafts them carefully so you almost believe you put them there yourself

Complaints of a hard day of work and coming home to no dinner on the table

He bats the covered plate off the table and it crashes against the wall

The white of the eggs stick guiltily to the window

While the yoke breaks and makes a dramatic descent down the glass

Landing with silent thunder on top of the pink ham and scattered home fries

As my brothers and I run laughing hysterically from the room

Knowing our own peril, we can’t help but point out,

He is of course, right

                        Dinner is not on the table.

This poem contributed to dVersePoets Open Link Night Week 12

dVerse dSires

I was headed to my pottery wheel when I remembered it was dVerse poetry night

Oh no!  What am I to do? 

Poetry or Pottery?

I guess I could write an ode to my pottery

If I knew what an ode consisted of

A haiku perhaps

But I was already well beyond all syllabic limitation

I gaze at the glaze

The evil red chun creates

Havoc wherever it goes

Clay desires my hands

Oozing mud through my fingers

What shall I become

Pulling it upwards

Sensuous shaping into

A tulip vase p’haps? 

The best I can do in a pinch. 

Off to play with mud. 

Will check out some poetry postings in a bit. 

Love to all.

This poem written
for and contributed to
dVersePoets Open Link Night  Week 11

I love flowers

They greeted her with smiling faces

With all their prickly thorns and petals of love

She went about her evening chores

While the flowers sang their music



short and sweet
This poem contributed to
dVersePoets Open Link Week #10

April Camp

Another gray day breaks over the April marsh

if you weren’t vigilant, you might think the morning held only bleakness

but for brief moments the sky roils in pinks and blues

above an army of gliding eiders

A magnificent bald eagle is perched sentinel

hoping to discover what Mother has lain before him this day

Then, as suddenly as it came, the marsh has turned bleak once again

the dead branches protruding from the water’s dusky surface

reflect black on black in perfect symmetry

The drab sky blends with bare branches of birches and alders

still bereft of any semblance to July’s verdant greens

or October’s vibrant reds and yellows

Even the drab colors of the osprey that has taken over the eagle’s hunting ground

meld into the muted landscape  

proclaiming their rightful place

in this somber spectacle of slate colored scenery

Posted for dVerse poets open link night.