A Year in Review

It has been a year or so since I first started posting on a consistent basis, and I’ve settled into posting about once a week now. I’m thankful that you continue to take a few moments to read my poems. You have helped me to write more consistently and to keep creating.

Today, I am posting a few poems from the past year that readers have enjoyed the most. Thank you again for stopping by.

the cemetery bench

wind weaves through the graves
whispering names long worn
from the headstones. we visit
on anniversaries, speak in low tones,
but mostly sit, as if before a mirror,

wondering what face will appear.
how many years will these ghosts
stay with us, whispering secrets
we will only understand when light
fades giving way to brighter sight?

Walking at Night

The leaves do not fear fall,
and the fading sun
does not quarrel with the moon.

The berries on the bough
are bitter indeed, so why
do I walk in these woods

on frozen nights of shadow
when you have not been here
for a thousand years?

Prairie Fire

I remember the smoke
above the horizon,

spreading out until dusk
swallowed it whole.

People stared across
the plain, tested the wind,

wondered which way
the fire would turn.

But I was transfixed
by something invisible

attending to our sorrows.

imperfections

under the surface
we are free. all spirit
and essence waiting

for brokenness,
for the slightest flaw,
for an opening

where the true self
emerges as light,
escapes into being.

 

 

* Written last year in response to Robert Okaji’s beautifully haunting poem “His Softness”. After reading it several times, the phrase “somewhere, under the surface, / unattached” stayed with me and prompted this poem.

the exchange

a politician mailed a half
dollar to me and asked
for fifty in return to help
his cause. i have heard
preachers on tv promise
the same things in different
ways, always asking for more.
so i buried the half dollar
in a corner of the churchyard,
near the dead politicians
and tv preachers, imagining
the squabble taking place
on the shore when charon
stretches forth his ghastly hand.

Postscript – Seamus Heaney

One of my favorite poems by Seamus Heaney.

Postscript

And some time make the time to drive out west
Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore,
In September or October, when the wind
And the light are working off each other
So that the ocean on one side is wild
With foam and glitter, and inland among stones
The surface of a slate-grey lake is lit
By the earthed lightning of a flock of swans,
Their feathers roughed and ruffling, white on white,
Their fully grown headstrong-looking heads
Tucked or cresting or busy underwater.
Useless to think you’ll park and capture it
More thoroughly. You are neither here nor there,
A hurry through which known and strange things pass
As big soft buffetings come at the car sideways
And catch the heart off guard and blow it open.

https://www.irishtimes.com/culture/books/seamus-heaney-on-writing-postscript-a-sidelong-glimpse-of-something-flying-past-1.1517558

Postscript was first published in The Irish Times. From Opened Ground: Selected Poems 1966-1996 by Seamus Heaney. © 1998 by Seamus Heaney.