Off Balance

There was a time when I knew what I knew
was sure of it, confident, happy, smug.
Then, a puny, piddling, gnat-sized nudge
set me slightly off balance with its gentle tug
of what if.

I couldn’t even put it into sensible words
It was a discontent, a sigh soft and long,
something not quite right
worse, what if we have it all wrong
cued the nudge.

Since that day for some years now
I seem to live with spiritual vertigo
my feet no longer planted firm
in certainty – it’s been a blow to my ego
of know it all.

Somehow, I’ve learned to live this way
sure as anyone can be with the Divine
and hoping He will fill in the gaps
take the doubt, the faith and define
an acceptable belief.

A Few Haiku

Eyes wide, dead of night

random thoughts tumble and swirl
dreams delayed,aborted

Silent grey cat crouching
wary mouse, whiskers tremble
destiny awaits

 

Thunder clouds rumble
dust whips up then settles down
empty promises

Black clouds knit his brow

lightening thunders, she cowers
self-esteem destroyed

 

Grey, heavy clouds weep
after the family departs
fertile earth useless

 

God, His name Logos,  
the Word, did with words express
all of creation.
                                     
Maple leaves conceal
a papery hornet’s nest
behind your smile - pain

 

lone leaf clings to twig
bitter, blustery winds tug
tenacious hope holds

Chimney smoke rises

writing curlicues on sky
a poem to God

Heat shimmers midday
tarry road melts and buckle
even flies languish

One thin blade of grass
one dim star in the heavens
marvels in between

Epithalamium

 A poem written in honor of the bride and groom. 


         Advice (I see you rolling your eyes)

There will come days when you say
I don’t love him any more – love him anyway,
for love is a choice you make–everyday.

There will come a day when you stop
gazing constantly into her eyes,
be sure, then, you both are looking in the same direction.

Laugh. Laugh a lot. Laugh with each other and
at yourself. Have private jokes and keep them that way.
Laughter is a healing thing.

The grass, sometimes, is greener on the other side,
your own yard a little neglected.
Get the fertilizer out and work on it.

Cleave to one another but know when you marry a mountain boy,
you marry the mountain. Parents have needs.
Holidays can be torture. Take turns – work it out.

Put the needs of marriage first. Be quick to forgive, love extravagantly,
compromise when you can and be submissive to each other.
Pray for each other.

It’s like writing a book – hard work, lots of decisions, twists, conflicts.
But, when it’s on the bestselling list – worth it!
May the one you write together be epic .

Bad! Bad Poem!

 

Poetic Bloomings            
PROMPT #108

For this week’s prompt, we want you to write a “Bad” poem. Surely, you can write about something bad. But really we want you to write a “bad” poem – a horrible poem… a completely atrocious poem. It could be written to form badly, for bad form to a poem is the worst.

 Dodoitsu

          Love Unilluminated

It was a dark and moonless night

so your eyes couldn’t sparkle
so I couldn’t fall in love with you
so blame it on the moon.

 

Dandelions and Bread Crumbs

My cousin was teasing me about a new name for my journal. I think I like it!

Decastitch

Decastitch : Ten lines, No meter or rhyme required though is acceptable.

 

              Too Much

Too much stuff is hoarding

Too much debt is ruinous
Too much government is tyranny
Too much care is stifling
Too much food is obesity
Too much dieting is unhealthy
Too much rain is a flood
Too much sun is a drought
Too much love is an obsession
Too much of anything is too much.



            Top Tier

Soon I’ll be the top tier
The one you’ll look to

For guidance, advice
I’ll enjoy the guise of wisdom
For a short moment
Till I become the guided one
and decisions are made for me
When I become the child again
Then, you will become aware
of this thing called Rite of Passage.

  

Swami Binned

http://wordsmith.org/

One of the anagrams for my name is: Swami Binned 
The prompt for Poetic Bloomings: use only the resulting words or phrases found in the letters of your name in constructing your poem.
Mine were mainly nonsense so I took one anagram and a story of it.

Swami Binned

When I was young,
back in the 60’s,
the Beatles and others
went all psychedelic,
TM and such.
Caught up in the mood
but being from a small town
where the most common form
of contemplating your navel
came from a still – white lightening,
and being southern Baptist
allowed only Welch’s grape juice
I didn’t expect to ever be “enlightened.”
But, lo and behold, in a town not far way
Swami Binned was featured at the Bijou.
I went to see what it was all about
but the local ministerial cooperation (a
misnomer if ever there was) picketed
at the entrance, and as luck would have it
our very own Deacon White was right in front
and no way could I slip in past him.
Well, I happened to see the great Swami
sitting in his car in the alley behind the theatre
and ran up to glean some wisdom from his lips.
Oh, great Swami, can you tell me what life is all about?
Expecting a formal, sing songy, voice
and prayer hands at the chin
and slight bow of the head
I got instead a peace sign and a far out, man,
and some weed a’blowin in the wind.