Thursday, November 30, 2017

Poetry Series, deep blue river poetry

Bedtime Stories / 2017 deep blue river poetry
Here I go, at the crack of midnight, coming down  barefoot on walnut hardwood floors
I'm Santa tip-toeing past sliding doors
Locking up tight turn out the lights
Sleeping children

Bedtime stories sung by a choir of fatherly voices on high
It's a tradition to put out
The cookies and milk
And hang all the stockings with tender care
Filled with chocolate candy and fluffy stuffed
Bears

And turn down the lights and lock it up tight
And damp out the fires
Untangle the wires
Sleeping children
Sleeping children

Glory hallelujah it's cinnamon toast
And marshmallows to roast
And the holy holy
Ghost and
The sweetest of smiles crocodile smiles
On the cheeks of sleeping children

It's good that the dogs and kids
Always liked me
Cause I liked to make all the rounds round the tree
Handing out presents
Of preparation
on Christmas Eve

And eating tamales in Texas
That's a tradition !
With beans and cheese

And bedtime stories sung by a choir of motherly voices on high
It's a tradition to put out
The cookies and milk
And hang all the stockings with tender care
Filled with chocolate candy and fluffy stuffed
Bears

And turn down the lights and lock it up tight
And damp out the fires
Untangle the wires
Sleeping children
Sleeping children

So Here I am at the crack of midnight coming down barefeet on walnut hardwood floors
I'm Santa tip-toeing past sliding doors
Locking up tight turn out the lights
Sleeping children
Sshhh

Sleeping children
It's a tradition.

Tradition // deep blue river 2017
Bells are chiming the 3 notes
And I picture the hunchback of Notes Dame
over love birds singing the chorus of waking
Up ( again )
( and I remember her long gown in the kitchen)  ( like a child there was an innocence)
Over the bright blue voice of the clouds walking across the pillowed sky
And it's that day
( again )
Groundhogs day is everyday
When you are caught in the vortex
Of your river rock memories so worn with the water of life and with time's candle

I give up now
( allowing the release of )
White hand-painted cabinet fronts where the sun streaming In on bustling pots and pans
Caught love making potato pancakes and egg and cheese tacos lots of onion
Before mowing lawns
And trimming trees
And weeding flower beds
My life was full
And I didn't know it
Someone said I would always be searching
For something more
Down sunflower lined roads where the
Heart is always wide open

I wouldn't stand around arranging flowers in a vase very long when the open road was calling

And who would ever pin me down to these manicured lawns and TV movies
And Macy's one day sales
I just wanted to know God
Cause God wasn't in
The expensive dinners and the alcohol
That came with the love
That made some mighty good pancakes
And breakfast tacos
And that laughed like a bowl full of jello
Ate gummy bears
Smoked like a chain
Was full of contradictions
Don't you think that I didn't love you
Why do you think I kept coming back
To all the things
That ended up holding me for years
And that soft gown
Angelic hair
Blonde and long in tresses
Always at the salon
Or achieving the world's best manicure
You know
None of those things fit me
But I loved you
Ever so much
And new Christmas sweaters was a
Tradition.

I just wanted to know God.

Bells are chiming the 3 notes
And I picture the hunchback of Notes Dame
over love birds singing the chorus of waking
Up ( again )
( and I remember her long gown in the kitchen)  ( like a child there was an innocence)
Over the bright blue voice of the clouds walking across the pillowed sky
And it's that day
( again )
Groundhogs day is everyday
When you are caught in the vortex
Of your river rock memories so worn with the water of life and with time's candle

I give up now
( allowing the release of )
White hand-painted cabinet fronts where the sun streaming In on bustling pots and pans
Caught love making potato pancakes and egg and cheese tacos lots of onion
Before mowing lawns
And trimming trees
And weeding flower beds
My life was full
And I didn't know it
Someone said I would always be searching
For something more
Down sunflower lined roads where the
Heart is always wide open

( it's gone ) now

You would see me running.
Chasing down God.
All the while I was only trying
To know myself.
For I have always been
The heart
Of all my searching.

And if I only could find
Someone as kind
As patient
Who gave me all their heart
The best they could
( in flannel gowns with vodka cranberry)
Who went outside to smoke
When it bothered my eyes
Who stayed up all night with me talking my nonsense about
Becoming some star
In a distant land
On some other shore
Where the voice
Of God
Had called me

( I digress I release all my running to the dogs who do it better than me off leash In some open field I have run like the dogs in the heat of the summer eating table
Scraps ) just to see God

Find her out. She. Was always me.
But running was a tradition

Away from passing cars
And thrusting my pathetic
Pen to the page
In all the 50 ( states ) not really just a few.
Enough. Already.

I'd like to settle down to someone in a long gown who makes great tacos and
Puts the rock and roll on
At 8 in the morning
Sings
Me the Eagles
"You can't hide your lying eyes" on car drives to the desert to take pictures of
Birds on wires and cave paintings

I give up now
( allowing the release of )
White hand-painted cabinet fronts where the sun streaming In on bustling pots and pans
Caught love making potato pancakes and egg and cheese tacos lots of onion
Before mowing lawns
And trimming trees
And weeding flower beds
My life was full
And I didn't know it.

It wasn't perfect. It wasn't the perfect
Song that I thought I wanted to sing
But sometimes good is good enough
And you don't know it till it's gone
Maybe I was always meant to move on
But I haven't found it ( again)
Anyone who gets me
Wants me so bad
Like the first slice
Of coconut pie always tastes like heaven
No one seems to want
My bullshit

I only wanted to feel God.
Cause I thought
God ( was something separate)
And it was a tradition to
Run after
The light.

I digress ( how
I love traditions) ( how I miss traditions )
Like trying to play these broken strings
For the first time
I feel mostly whole
Inside
I know
I am not alone.
I can be by myself and not want to run
I accept the strong and the weak parts of me
Maybe I found what I came out here to find

God.

Is always with me.
You can count on it ( it's a tradition )
But the smell of November Rain
Presses in on me to let it slide
Let it go
Release the past
Stop thinking about my laundry tumbling In with yours
You are no longer with us
And I am older

I'll take a lover ( again)
When the divine timing is right
And l'll
Shine
What I can into the place
Of love.
I will bring all of me to the party
Roads are just long
( I need a new tradition ).

Small batch // 2017 deep blue river poetry
A kettle can be dark and iron is tough
Made for cooking small batches
Like popcorn and meats
Soups and things savory
Which come with a sweet smell
To the senses
Eyes dart
Hearts leap
The smell comes in through the nostrils
And straight on for the heart
In the stomach
The salivation
Begins
To become
Salvation.

A small batch
A right time
A right place
All the things that are needed have gone into the pot and are simmering
Carrots potatoes greens spices
Spiced right
In a small batch
Turned gently with the spoon of love
And thanksgiving

She held me like spice
Drawn deep in her embrace
She held
Me like love
Made in small batches
The kind you tenderly care for
The kind you keep tasting
The kind your nose can't get enough of
Like the scent of her hair
And Whisp of Morning
Smells like dew
Grown blessed
You can't hold it
It's going to wander
Like the steam rising up
From the kettle

I danced with the idea
Of making her my small batch
The one I would always come home to
With expectation
I tried to find the right voice
To speak her into my heart
I suppose I was disappointed
When she wanted to escape
But I know all
Things transcend
And find their end
Even beauty
Which you can't possess

We are drawn like dragonflies
Darting in the summer heat
Surrounding flora by the water's
Edge
Resting a moment
Before
Soldiering on to a souls call

How sweet the green in the pot
Full of life
The mix is a delicious blend
Of flavors

I am a fan of small batches
Made with love
Small attempts at making a perfectly blended soup
Stirring gently with a spoon
Turning it in

How grateful for the seasons
That fill us with grace and remembering
That see us through
In small batches
Give us honey for the tongue
And balm for the journey's
Wounds
Bandage us with rum and wine
And tasty desserts

May spice find
The hollow spots
And fill
Them all
With flowers.

Dropping seeds.

1 comments:

  1. beautiful. the 1 reminds me of 1 of my favorites by rosalie sorrels, flying--

    ReplyDelete