My Favorite Poems
Selecting these is a little like asking someone which is their favorite child. Some days you can't choose between them, and some days you can't pick one at all. A long-lost page from a photo album reminds you of an old moment, a chance encounter in the back of a filing cabinet restores your memory of the mood when a poem demanded to be written down. For now, today, these are some of my favorites!
A POEM
A poem is an unexpected house guest,
Who arrives with a suitcase.
Immediately, he unpacks
And settles down.
A poem is an unexpected house guest,
Who recalls old experiences
Suddenly giving them new light.
Yes, a poem is a house guest,
For after he has gone,
It seems as though he is still there.
Apr. 9, 1961
DOCTOR, PLEASE!
Doctor, please do not tell me anything
else that would be good for me.
I’m terribly exhausted doing it all
and need to just rest
and not strain to do well.
Just need to absorb
and calibrate
and do nothing new.
Hope you can understand.
I am seriously on overload
and cannot take on anything new.
08/28/18
DOWNSIZING
A poem or a song
should be written about downsizing.
When I was a teenager, the buzzword was junior prom.
Then it was talk about getting married
then having babies.
Now I’m in my 70’s
and have many friends there too.
What do we talk about now?
DOWNSIZING!
Downsizing has created
a new look for my apartment.
Parts of it look new
like a minimalist would have.
Giving away treasures
to younger family or friends
insures they have a longer life.
Like at Easter time
now with me hunting
for places to put treasures.
Downsizing has its own beat
First music of act is slow
then it gets going and picks up speed.
Downsizing a song or a poem
should be written about DOWNSIZING.
3/17/13
I WISH I WAS A SPIDER
l wish I was a spider
able to spin a web
out of my being--
my inner being.
I'd step back
ond watch my insides
glisten
in the sunlight!
A Navajo weaving a rug,
an artist making a mosaic,
balanced pattern.
How wish I could make
a balanced art piece
out of my insides.
I AM A WORD PAINTER
I am a word painter.
I carve sentences
out of soapstone
and run my hand over them
until they are smooth.
I am a balloon woman.
Many colorful balloons
follow me -
I can choose which idea
which plan
or which person to see
at whim.
Easily I can let one balloon float away,
and I can let the air out.
I would like to be a squirrel
easily running up and down tree trunks.
I am a gold panner.
Finding gold nuggets of poetry
in people who thought
there weren't any.
I am a poet -
words are my craft.
Like a blacksmith,
I hammer and hammer away
until the lines fit.
Into the furnace of my mind
they go,
and out into the cool
onto the metal working space.
Sometimes I'm a glass blower,
the fire of my feelings
forging shapes and forms.
Sometimes I'm a smiling,
toothless, six year-old
with pigtails, saucer eyes and a big smile.
Sometimes I'm an adolescent
moody
wondering.
Who am I?
Who am I?
I am the question
not the answer.
MADE A PEANUT BUTTER AND JELLY SANDWICH
Made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich
but forgot the jelly
wore out my phone
so all the people can hear
is a garbled-y voice.
So eager for communication
dropped phone in sink water
Now I’m holding onto a sick phone
for carrying my conversations.
What happens if phone dies
like the world is dying around me
and in me?
5/23/20
NON-INVOLVEMENT
She goes to the zoo
looks at the animals
but does not feed them.
She goes to the art museum
sees the statues
but doesn’t feel them.
She went to the beach
but never allowed
the salt to sting her.
She shook his hand
but never held it.
06/11/2016
A ROSE PETAL
I'd like to slide down a rose petal
On my back
And crouch on the bottom
And then look up.
I'd like to wrap the petal
All around me
Until I am asleep.
REMEMBERING HOW THE CHICKENS
Remembering how the chickens
just pecked away
on barnyard ground
looking for morsels of food.
Mostly passed over grains
and stones
and nondescript stuff.
So now I am like a hen
pecking away
in my shelter in place apartment
looking for grains of tasks can do
While mostly passing over ground
Just pecking away
not going anywhere.
At the most just chuckling
nonsensical sounds.
Instead, wish I was a hawk
with wide wings
and a destination
to let me zoom into.
4/26/20
I FEEL A POEM COMING ON
I feel a poem coming on
like the ocean curling into itself
preparing to lunge
and splash
Covering all rocks nearby
I feel a poem coming on
My back arched up like a cat
ready to hiss and spray
I feel a poem coming on
soon there will be angry cloudburst
of rain words drenching words
plenty of rain words.
I feel a poem coming on
soon--very soon.
9/21/14