2024 first poem

2024 a poem Maybe the first in a decade As I google search me I see poems I no longer remember writing But the overall tone Remains the same Sort of a grimness of reality Which I sometimes tinge with humor Much like today Has it gotten better? Has it gotten worse? I think my naivety has buffered a lot Plus I try not to watch the news Or watch murder porn Garbage in Try not to let it in But we don’t always have That choice But my bedtime dreams Are so full of adventures I am everywhere In multiple time zones With dead relatives and Ex-boyfriends Lots of small children And snakes That I am not afraid of.

land

Land It’s not so much The infrastructure And buildings But the trees and Water if you are lucky The dirt under your feet And ground you scoop into your hands Not the stuff amazon delivers Though that can be kinda fun too But what really nourishes the soul The air sky Animals and birds The real stuff that Matters Family friends Life And being able to grief When death takes them To be able to go deep stir your innards and fill your dreams.

ancestors

Ancestors along the shores of ancient lakes our ancestors foraged birds and small game for food and clothing willows and tules for shelter and baskets as the water dried up farmers and ranchers depleted the resources and brought in invasive species until it threatened their livelihood too until the government decided to create sanctuaries and wildlife preservation areas to coexist through water rights and irrigation ditches today i can still pick willows for my baskets.

country music

Country music It’s on the radio in this small Nevada town Where it fits Though rock and hip hop are available The open road and whiskey blues Make more sense The alkaline soil and sagebrush Slowly nod To the twang of guitar broken hearts and pick up trucks from patsy cline willie nelson and now chris stapleton it’s all good as they question their sanity in a ¾ waltz.

hmmmm

apparently I have forgotten how to use this blog...my previous two posts are all smashed together like a run-on sentence/paragraph. arggghhhh.

I’m not that person

As I reread books poems from Years past I kind of feel sorry for that person She who always worried too much About her children Who allowed herself to get caught up In demeaning relationships Who seemed to thrive on crisis attempted to control life And wrote all about it Spilled every angry bean Every self deprecating bean And writing was the therapy But now I’m not that person Did I just mellow with age? Or find such a well-balanced relationship? Not really Cause I do like the go go go Of activity Things like burningman and steampunk Of art and lots of friends And the relationship? I’m a mistress to a fabulous guy And I’m happy with that Afraid if he actually moved in I’d find something to pick at But all this happiness Results in no poetry No longer needing the therapy The poems slip away

national poetry month

the challenge is to write a poem a day but as evidenced from my last post being in 2011 this is more challenging for me who hasn't written in over two years so i'll take a stab at it though they may not be any good though i never was any judge about my own stuff shocked at what editors accepted or rejected the blog takes it all.