An End, A Middle, A Beginning – Three Haiku

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An End

Traces of grey smeared
Left by Winter on the pane
She’ll be back again

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A Middle

Somewhere before moons
And sunsets the noon squeezes in
Evening, I long for you

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A Beginning

Mark new starts with Spring
Sit beside the pear tree with me
Earth’s ripe and ready

 

 

Change


Change

She longed to change
Things
The ones with a beat
Red, pulsing, pumping the blood
To crack open the norm
Celebrate poetry with prose
Run in the opposite direction
Refuse to settle
Zig while they zag
Rise up and whisper above the screams
Press mute on the debate
Call for peace while there was war
Light a fire on the first day of Spring
Speak as silence suffocates the voiceless
In the spinning
Untangle the web
Raise the white flag
Cry for mercy
Shed tears for grace
Unfurl the banner of enough is enough
Tattoo love on her wrist to remind her of
Wood and nails
Set sail
For calm and deep in
Oceans of counterclockwise in a sea of clockwise
And dream of a world
In which Change would come

And Change remained
Died and rose again
And Change redeemed
Sweet dreams, lovers of Change
Easter is near
All will soon shout
Alleluia’s
Again

Here – A Guest Post, A Poem, Holly A. Grantham

 

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I am honored to have my poet friend Holly Grantham guest posting here today. She and I have been friends through poetry, writing and blogging and have even partnered together on a poetry series entitled Adagio: A Poetry Project. Holly and I played with words on the page from miles upon miles apart, penning three poems. (The offerings in this series may be found at the end of Holly’s guest post). While the project is on a pause of sorts, Holly’s words continue to bring me joy. She is an artist and crafts beautiful poetic prose and poetry.

In her poem entitled Here, Holly’s words sing of her unique perspective on this life. And yet we hear, feel and even crawl into the space Holly inhabits. Holly invites. She delights. And her art is extraordinarily crafted.

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Here

I’m cooking dinner and
only because the days are getting longer
does the light still filter in
through the clouded window that
needs replacing
The pane is nearly opaque
but not muddled enough
to keep my eye from catching
the fluttering of a bird at the feeder
repositioning himself
to find more seed

While I cut broccoli
the baby sits on the counter
flapping his arms
like the bird outside
screeching with glee
drool dripping like honey
from his mouth
the bud of a tooth peeking
out from swollen gums

I set down the knife
and sip my wine in the pause
while through the tilted glass I can see
the edges of the room stained
crimson and swirling
catching light
glowing

Floating atop the life noise
clattering within these walls
a quiet song sways with being here
now
and I freeze
because something down deep
is stirred and righted
and in a twinkling the words of
Buechner that I read earlier today are
tangible and throbbing
framing the moment
as miracle

I’m remembering now
how every morning
glory pools in my lap while I’m
nursing my babe
legs crossed and warm
eyes still drowsy with sleep
and I’m afraid I miss it most days
in the wanting something more

I look back out the window and
the light has dimmed
but is tinged with orange now
the bird has gone but
the baby shouts a loud hallelujah
and I turn to him
his eyes flickering candles
Yes
I am here
now

 

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Holly pens beauty at her writing home A Lifetime of Days . Follow her on twitter @HollyAGrantham .

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Adagio: A Poetry Project is currently comprised of three offerings. The first, entitled Writing Across The Distance may be found here, the second entitled Black Night Of Hope may be read here and the third Les Mains

How To Read A Poem, If You Please, And Thank You

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Rules would be ridiculous
So there are none
But there are crumbs
Leave them, please
For the next connoisseur
Of words
Traveller rambling line by crooked line
Wanderer down the poetic way
She’ll
Turn the page and walk this way
Past lines, and rhymes and such
Into the labyrinth, around each
Turn of phrase.

Tempting it would be
To stumble on a word you love
Place it to your lips
Smell and see
How it tastes, all salt and peppered up
Rolling round your
Pink and bumpy tongue
Sliding up against
Your wet red gums
Salivating now are you
Tempted by words of poetry
Imagine now
And
Chew on a hearty simile or metaphor
Worry not, they’re gluten free
But stay away from rhyme
They’re high in calories.

But resist the urge to take the words

Leave them there
Wrapped
In love
Placed  by design
For those who come
After us
Signposts, mini compasses
We left our words
A banquet for the generations
The next one and the next one after that
Napkin in your lap
Not necessary, inhale the poems
Laying there
Rules would be dumb
So there are none

Relax and breathe
You have all you need
To ingest
Each conceit
Metaphorically I speak

Oh but won’t you be courteous
Please
And be gentle with the poetry
Whittled by the hands of writers
Verse by fragile verse
Poured from dripping sweat and blood
Literally I speak

Turn around and go back home
Following the trail, the way you came
But
Go back through a second time
You missed a lot on that first pass
And please tell others that they are
There
Waiting
Patiently in the dark and lonely woods

If a poem speaks
In the forest dark and deep
With no one there to hear
Don’t interrupt
That would be quite rude

It is alright with both
The poet
And the poem
If no one’s there to hear
This has happened at least once
Or twice before
But, a
Thank you would be nice

There are no rules
Just manners
Crumbs
And meaning hidden nicely there
Within
And this is how you read a poem
If you please, and thank you.

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Joining the creative folks over at Tweetspeak Poetry with this poem inspired by the prompt #howtoreadapoem. Celebrating the release of Tania Runyan’s new book “How To Read A Poem” published by TSPoetry Press.