In the Span of a Shake of a Hand (e e cummings inspired poetry)

 “In the Span of a Shake of a Hand”  (e e cummings inspired poetry)

While with overlapping hands we clasp and shake,

The seconds we try in holding each other’s names  

They are points lost, maybe forgotten

But there, across the room, in the soft glow of a candle,

There is love. So immense, so timeless, so unforgettable.

And there is no name needed, only to look this way.

But somewhere, in the space, in the candle’s breeze,

Somewhere is love. It’s the heat of the rhythm of our hearts

And somewhere is fortune, saying don’t look away.

But anywhere, in the emptiness, in my mind’s eye

Anywhere is love. So available, so free, so inevitable.

And anywhere is light, commanding to look closer.

 

And now, in returning, in being, you ask what I do.

Now should be love. It’s gentle, it’s forgiving, it’s within.

But now is distant, admonishing me for losing your name.

 On Being Strong (Poetry inspired by study of Phillis Wheatly)

At forty nine, some say past the prime,

I venture on this path I’ve found

There’s light and dark, there’s pain and peace

And silence scaled with sounds

They poke and prod you in your run

Shouting of the grace and love

Then open their palms to show their joy

Delivered from the sky above

Take it, use it,

A springboard for life

An umbrella of safety 

But don’t hide from the light

For though there’s joy in other’s eyes,

if you do and say their ways,

Their’s are not your works, your path

Not the steps you take today.

If you find that life leads you west,

or north, or south, or up, or down

You may see them wag a finger 

pointing only to their ground.

Take this to heart, to lungs, to life

with every breath the joy is grown

With every sight seeds are sown

with every thought your own art is known

Plant each step in a new space

Gaze wide while walking along

Follow the path that starts within

Breathe deep the joy of being strong

My Kettle Call (poetry inspired by study of Lucille Clifton)

My Kettle Call 

My lips are thin

sometimes so tight they’re invisible

My eyes can be gray, blue, or brown

and my sight is always keen

My hair is wavy and straight.

For my first professional haircut I asked for wings

Only to be corrected - you mean feathered

I nodded in agreement, but I wanted wings

These thin lips and feathery hair have done me fine

But lately they have hindered my voice

Making my message of understanding

Nothing but a screech in the wind

I sometimes circle alone, 

in the comfort of a warm updraft

Wishing for company

of heart and mind

from the soldiers below

Or at least to be part of a kettle

Bluebirds and eagles,

Sparrows and hawks

Cardinals and ospreys 

But no crows, buzzards or vultures

Let the kettle grow by the day

Let screeches from our thin lips

grow in breadth and width

Building a common thoughtful song

We would use our keen sight and strategic view

To know when to leave our comfortable flight

when to swoop in

If the soldiers desired it so

I would slice  through the sky in silence

Clearing the ground

of thieving rodents

disease carrying insects

And messages of hate.

Though my lips are thin

And my hair feathered

I too have a message

One of support

one of partnership