None of us are ready

None of us are ready
Tonight. We float in a
Sea of Tranquility
As the tide washes us
In, inexorably.

None of us are ready
And yet it is time. We
Travel after midnight
One hand upon the stars
As a new voice sings bright.

None of us are ready,
Our arms still tangled in
Each other’s hair, we lift
This wet thing to our chest
And say, “This is a gift

None of us are ready
To receive.” And it’s true.
Our swift humanity
Is chastened before such
Responsibility.

None of us are ready,
We are all newborn here.
But there is grace, and soon
Joy as we stumble home
Kissed by the mother moon.


The grammar involved in "none is" vs. "none are" makes my head spin.  I ended up sticking with "none are" though "none is" might work better in some people's eyes.  Hope you can get past this issue to appreciate the sentiment of the poem!  For friends at the marvelous dVerse Poets Pub.

Astronaut

My father was a famous astronaut,
A hero from the bright comics I bought
On Saturdays. Sometimes I heard the key
Turn gently in the lock long after we
Had gone to bed. And then my parents fought

Like lovers in my mother’s sheets, but not
Out loud as they might wake the baby. Caught
Between embarrassment and lust to see
     My father was

Still real, I clutched my rocket ship and fought
Back tears. His only letter is what got
Me through those years – to know God and country
Might come first, but he always cared for me
No matter what our friends and neighbors thought
     My father was.

Don't ask me

Don’t ask me where it is I am going
Tonight. Some things go best without knowing
Every detail. I am a small shell
Whispering the waves, wishing I could tell
You who I am. The surf song is calling

Me inexorably, its tide writing
My name on some distant shore. This gnawing
Sense of being “not-from-here” I know so well.
     Don’t ask me

How, but it has always been there, lying
Nautilus-curled within my stumbling
Soul. I want to love this red land as well
As you do, but I cannot fall under its spell.
Someday I’ll say, but for now I’m begging,
     Don’t ask me.

Rules

A honeymoon poem, to share with friends over at the marvelous dVerse community.

This house is smaller than the brochure made
It look. There is barely room for our bags
In the front hall as we sign the guestbook.

Breakfast is between eight and eight thirty
We are informed, and would we prefer
A fry-up or just the continental?

Our hostess has a typewriter. The walls
Are filled with neat signs telling us things like
When we may use the bathroom (no long baths)

And that the lounge is open after six
For us to watch the TV or peruse
The two shelves of Mills and Boone romances.

But this is our first night, and thus we have
A romance of our own to consummate.
Pinned above our bed is a note that reads:

Guests are requested not to talk after
Ten p.m. We obey, shyly, taking
Our time, trying not to break any rules.

Walking

I

Love

Walking

On the sand

Watching the water

Extend to the blue horizon,

The awesome sense of infinite possibility

That descends when I am barefoot

Tracing a fresh path

As the waves

Wash my

Steps
New

Late afternoon in my room

Why is it so sensual
To wash a lover’s hair?

Is it the scent of blossoms
Borne away on fingertips,
Or the gentle lapping of
Small waves at the water’s edge?

Is it the deep stillness that
Descends slowly on the heart,
Or the final yielding
Of control, the gift of trust?

Perhaps it is all of these
But this much I remember:

She bowed her head at the sink,
Letting the warm water run
And when she looked back at me
I knew I could not refuse.


Posted for the weekly Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub.

You took a risk

(a monchielle)

You took a risk last night
Standing up there alone
Where you slowly allowed
Your pure voice to strip bare
Defenseless to the crowd.

You took a risk last night
Wearing that shining dress
That caught each colored glint.
You could not help but shine
In that dim firmament.

You took a risk last night
Turning your face to us
As your soul fell apart.
You became translucent
Singing your broken heart.

You took a risk last night
And we loved you the more
For letting us hold you
Even for a moment
As a lover would do.

Beautiful women make me nervous

It was a great pickup line, if I say so myself:

     What a fabulous feeling!
     You’re too lovely for my eyesight.
     But tonight, I’d say my love is big enough to handle it.

Unfortunately, I got flustered:

     My, my, I say! What a lovely sight.
     Your fabulous feeling butt is big enough for two.
     I’d love to handle it tonight.

Damn.

Laundry day

A simple laundry-day sonnet, to share with friends over at the wonderful dVerse community.  Welcome, and enjoy!

A line of laundry baskets snakes around
The living room, as if about to shed
Its skin of cotton blends, in sleek casts found
By herpetologists beneath the bed.
Some days this house is full of mystery,
The mundane rendered beautiful, each small
Activity transformed for eyes that see
But do not judge too rapidly. I call
This attitude a discipline of grace,
Embracing imperfection with a smile
That lets me love the serpents I must face
In every daily task. For all the while
I long for past success, I must confess
There’s much to learn in cleaning up a mess.

Thank you for calling

What pain I endure every time that I say,
“We apologize unreservedly:
Thank you so much for calling; have a nice day.”

Your son cut his hand when he started to play
With the chainsaw you bought? Well, duh! You see
What pain I endure every time that I say

We’re sorry to losers like you, sharks who prey
On flesh like lawyers? When I gush brightly,
“Thank you so much for calling; have a nice day,”

What I mean is, “Get lost, you leech-head, and stay
Out of my way or I’ll show you clearly
What pain I endure!” Every time that I say

How I feel to my boss, he turns me away
With, “The customer’s right, just make them happy.
Thank you so much for calling; have a nice day!”

Well, he’s wrong – there’s no way we should have to pay
For your stupidity. It’s killing me
What pain I endure every time that I say,
“Thank you so much for calling; have a nice day.”