saint nicholas comes on the 6th
and brings with him treats
some are sweet for the mouth
some are warm for the soul
and some are surreal
for example one might get treated
with fairytales and pictures
of 300 year old gnomes
of spirits trapped within the bark
of grass trees
looking and longing to be
one and free
no matter what the memory
of dark nights may be
this is the time to turn on
and towards the light
Show me the way
we are supposed to open paths,
Rather than close doors
Light up fires
Rather than extinguish them,
Cheer and support our pioneers
Rather than push them to fall
Like the first line pawns
Nobody cares for;
Speaking of which, tell me
what is it that makes you care,
And move in the right direction
And how will you look out
For others today.
He was a named star
And he took every chance to shine
His face sparkled with smile,
his eyes with twinkles
And sometime with tears
But what was to be seen
were the traces he left with his hands
On the canvas he touched
His strokes were shaped
after the movements of dancers
His colors were bold in protesting
the dullness of any gray day
The shadows were there
to embolden the light
And there was really no need for words
Because wonders speak loud for themselves.
That night as we talked I understood
even stars take a beating at times
And May fall on their knees,
into sadness, or into oblivion
We are reminded
that being humble and small
is matter of fact the state we are in
On the scale of the street, or the city;
and we may not even be known
to exist on the scale of the galaxy.
And from where he sat with his thoughts
On his knees looking close to the ground
He looked up and he said
Be careful where your walk
Watch and do not lose your soul
And as he said his words
I felt a lonely wind clearing the floor.
Straddle the night
From day to day
With bridges of hope;
Do not get carried away
You still have to work
To keep those bridges in shape
For you and for those you love.
Thief’s confession
The only thing I have ever stolen
Is time;
Lovely time with my friends
And lonely times
With myself.
I have enjoyed them both
And rested a hurried soul
While twisting the seconds
Into what seemed
A fraction of eternity
To me and my friend.
A piece of the puzzle
I have stored in en empty corner
Reserved by memory
I just about forget,
I have also stolen a knife
When somebody was called
To cut the lies
Served at lunch,
And clean the plates
So we can all eat
(Something other than shit).
Does the giver turn ugly
Wrinkled by the burden of amassed memories?
Or does he learn to dance amongst sharks
And tames them speaking their tongues
****
Does the water of life revolve the same way
After it has give the youthful spirit
Again and again to the dancers
So they do not lose themselves in exhaustion
With no end in sight
The rain is most welcome, most solemn
A symbol of a fresh life’s return
The drops jump up happy
upon hitting the massive water surface
The ocean simply does not care
Tonight the sharks must have dinner
The giver must dance the best that he can
***
A poem must have an effortless birth
Like a swing of a thought propelled
From the right, forwards into existence
Like the reverberation of a swing
Into the shoulder and maybe as deep as the trunk
That never intended more than a move
To circle the small world
We can reach with our breath and our love.
A poem is but the mirror of our world
The very inside looking out
Trying to harmonize to yin with the yang
The love with the hate
The sound and the light
The shore and the wave
The I with the us
In the voice of a possible song.
A poem is but the force
With which we are trying to change
The presence into a luminous future
Or really it is
Whatever you want to make of it
My dear- if you would be kind
To just start and write.
It’s Saturday mornings
When I am alone with my coffee
And miss my son
When I prop my phone
Against the jelly jar.
And if you think that
I am crazy wait until
The whole family gathers
And we make that video call
And we all chatter happily
Sending love from all directions
To the son, to the phone
And in line of our dangerous bullets of love
Who else stands and supports us
But that sweet strawberry
Jelly jar.
Standing up
Standing in the ocean
Resisting the pull of the current
The push of the waves
The temptation to choose sides
Makes it clear that there will always be
Boundaries but these change
Often times.
Do we have to define
For this game
Winning or losing?
Would you rather be the wave
Hitting the shore
Or the shore opposing the wave
Will you keep coming
Back seeking justice?
You win in the morning
And you loose in the evening
Fairly the same territory
And who, tell me who cares
About winning this fight
And who gets the glory
Choose to rejoice in the chance
If you still happen to stand up
And observe the flow of
Inexhaustible forces
In a battle or dance
Where the game has no winning or losing
November news have frozen
Caught somewhere in the middle of a lake
In Minnesota and even i hear
That lakes of Georgia have trapped
these creatures for days
Before they are allowed
Publicly into light
I have found myself at home in his song
He gave me plenty of room and just a little light
To keep my spirits bright in the night
And he played somebody’s heart
On the strings of his old guitar.
The notes were flowing like honey
The tears managed to hold still
Behind the damn build with
The last threads of decency
Keeping a soul together
Till daylight
When you have reached the mountain’s top
Do you remember all the work, the heavy step
The hard earned breath?
Or do you just rejoice and live the moment.
Do you take in the views of open space
The air that feels like fuel burning your face
With joy and hope for other crests to conquer
Do you see the depth?
How far you’ve come,
The path below the valleys seem so joyful now
That you partake with your dear neighbor
The freedom’s feeling
And you give the moment wings
Free flying is your high soul
And it so dreaming once again
Renewed by mountain air.
Elk Knob memories
I had learned the secret of beautiful women
as a child, from a grown up man
and he shared it with me in return
for me sharing a poem
He said that beautiful women forget
they do not bear old wounds on their chest,
they move forwards past storms
And they emerge clean and tall.
He too shared his thought
in a poem, that i have mostly forgotten
as i have not pursued that kind of beauty
but rather the richness of memories
in all colors and flavors.
sometimes memory burdens
with the depths of its truths
of unforgivable but forgettable acts
justified or not by the quality of possible futures
sometimes the giver turns dark
under the shadows of known facts
but he always comes back.
sometimes he craves the innocent
and bare chested beauty
of the cleaner mind, the youthful body
untouched, unmarked by scars
and the weight of predictions;
and he finds the way out
into the next day.
coming out into light
helps him make the decision
to break with the past.
and if you listen
there is an almost audible sound
of a heart breaking.
his sounded like ice
it was cracking for days
and when the piece that wanted
to get loose finally broke
the wind took it, with all its weight
away it went on the waters.
whatever it's left
will grow back
keep coming those generous winters
and springstorms
filling the rivers
with beautiful salmons
and paint on their backs
stories galore.
By Ion Caraion
Whoever drinks from a sole glass
Breaks but one glass
And loses just one illusion
Or puts the glass back on a shelf of the cupboard
And forgets.
The one who forgets
Has drunk but from a sole glass.
Whoever drinks from a sole glass
Dies within that one glass
And departs from one life
In my one life
I have drunk from all glasses
Thinking that the next one
Holds what I have been searching for
Your soul was born free and destined to fly
Somehow someone has managed to trap it
For a while.
Still it has never forgotten its song
It just lies there still for a new chance to be born
And fly
When the hand on the lock shakes in fear
Or if it forgets the reason to trap
Your spirit
Take your chance, go out and around
To see the beauty and colors of the world reborn
in light
I have known love and it came to me
In different shapes and forms
But you can recognize it by the light
It surrounds us in, by the peace
And the joy that lifts us up
Like a song in the morning.
If this all seems abstract
You can also recognize it
By the face of the men
who greet you with smiles
By the notes of kindness that
Ring in their true words
And by the shape of the hands
That you get to hold in your hands.
And if you are truly lucky
You can almost hear the resonance
Between souls walking and dancing together
At sunsets and sunrise alike.
And after you have been graced
with the chance to observe and to take
ask yourself
Have you given enough of care
And how do you love the ones
Close and far wishing to share with you
Their song and their air.
Breath and fly and be inspired to share.
The fish jumped as if
Breaking the Olympic record
At first i have tried
to push the sunset away with my arms
and hang on to the daylight
even if all i could catch was its glimmer
in a mirror of water.
i watched as the mist was lifting
the light from the flat level
I swam at, towards night.
But when i thought it was time to give up
the nEighbors switched on their light
and light was coming at me
from all directions, making connections
to a future that insisted
on being one way or another
warm and still bright,
sometimes your mind is a rock
sometimes is a river
And i do not know if the river
has shaped the rock;
or whether the rock has distracted the river
but what i know is that
i will stand with you
whether your mind stays strong as a rock
or flows with the river.
We come from a country of strong women
we have stored in our genes
messages from the times of not forgotten wars
that if we can keep the house running
when the men are not home
we can keep the house running
at all times.
Not that we want to be alone,
our loving hearts long to stay soft
and we cry at weddings and funerals.
Even when we are not close to each other
our shoulders are strengthened
by the hugs of a circle of women
dancing with decisive steps
forwards and back when it's needed,
knowing that we will likely come back.
Walk in grace my daughter
this is my message of love,
knowing that you too can
carry the fire and water of life
seeking always the path towards light.
