Month: August 2024

In the Frame

i keep

searching

for a way

out

picking things up

and putting them down

rummaging through the mess

looking for a clue

the map is not on paper

life has a pattern to it

or does it

think you only get to know

so much

then it’s a

blur

the mind is a mystery

that holds the heart

…

she sketched the roses

and put them in a vase

and colored them red

and the stems green

and placed ‘em on a table

in a room with a window

where she colored the sunlight

yellow

the beams flooded the room

reaching out toward the roses

but she forgot to put water

in the vase

or did she

for water is clear

and the roses

after all these years

are as rosy red

as the day she thought them up

and put them on paper

and handed them over

for me to keep

and i can hear her now

laughing

and running around

“of course i put water in the vase …

can’t you see it – it’s right there”

i nod my head

yes

i can see it

now

TL

Time-less

i tell

my

self

i won’t be

sad

but been

this is different

than death

i know death

when dad died

it was sudden sorrow

that shatters you

in a second

when Granny the Great died

three Sundays ago

it was childlike sorrow

that changes the ground

you walk on

this is not like

that

this is sitting in sorrow

in a heightened sense

of loss

where time is

time-less

all the words

go back

into the alphabet

letters in a line

all the numbers

go back

to 1

there’s a voice

that talks

and a voice

that listens

taking it all in

in a heightened sense

of wonder

the bundled baby

is aware of the world

the world within a world

constantly changing form

a mirrored self

from this

to that

to else

when it rains

where does it go

you look up

then down

were it not for rain

where would we be

but a seed

asleep

that never knew

the sun

TL

Clouds

hung the clouds

high on the line

and wrung ‘em up tight

twisting

both day

and night

‘til the drops

no longer

fell to ground

and the wind

blew through

like whitecaps

over the blue

TL

Dorothy

she was

running through a field

of red poppies

but got really-really-really tired

somewhere

along the way

and had to stop

and catch her breath

and put her hand up

to her head

she turned to the Scarecrow

and told him

that she just needed to lie down

and rest

for a bit

she was just too sleepy

to go on

she called out for Toto

as she staggered

and fell

into the flowers

but the Scarecrow refused

to let her go

and give up

so easily

he kept pulling her along

for they had come

so far

been through so much

together

and they were nearly almost there

they could see Emerald City

shining like the sun

in the distance

the road of gold just ahead

they were so close

they could feel it

and yet so far

away

the Tinman began to cry

weeping loudly

as the Lion yawned

and agreed that a nap

sounded really good

right about now

the weeping Tinman yelled out for HELP

but the Scarecrow scolded

and told him it was useless

nobody would hear him

but then abruptly he changed his mind

and joined the Tinman

yelling out HELP HELP HELP

and from her magical-mystical-memory-place

Glinda the Good Witch heard

their cries

and gently waved her magic wand

and sent them snow

the Scarecrow was so thankful

thinking maybe it would help

and it did

Dorothy began to open her eyes

and slowly wake back up

Toto did, too

then the Lion stretched and yawned

and woke up

as the Tinman stood still stuck

in rust

when Dorothy saw that

she rushed on over to him

with the oil can

and fixed him up

good as new

they celebrated and cheered and laughed together

dancing round and round

then arm-in-arm

they skipped through the snow

in a field of red poppies

and touched down

upon the road of gold

Dorothy’s ruby-red-slippers

sparkled and shined and shown

as they made their way

to The-Great-All-Knowing-Wonderful-Wizard-of-Oz

who would grant them all

their heartfelt-bottom-of-the-well-wishes

and then some

for as they say

all along

the broken brick road …

There’s No Place

Like Home

TL

Emerald City

at the breath

of birth

it draws its last

in sleep

what dreams

in infancy

the essence

of infinity

heavy roses

in the rain

dried between the pages

of a well-worn book

yellow paint on a brick road

it’s snowing

in a field of red poppies

there Dorothy lies

asleep

her beauty preserved

beneath the globe

of snow

a twist and turn of the dial

winds back the clock

as the music plays

its lilting lullaby

a field of red poppies

swaying in the wind

TL

(written for Granny August 10, 2024)