Sunday, May 16, 2010

Posting some poems

Okay, so I've been asked by a few people where they can find my poetry online. Through the years I've been published on a few poetry sites but haven't really been posting online other than that. But, today I decided it's much easier to just post a few here and give people the link to my blog instead of sending them to various sites or emailing poems to individuals... so here I go.

I've written different kinds of poetry about different topics through the years. But, I'm going to start with the poems I wrote when my mother was suffering from ALS (Lou Gehrigs Disease)and right after she died in 2001 at the age of 47. I chose these in the hopes that they may bring some comfort to anyone who has gone through similar situations. And don't worry -I promise to post more upbeat ones in the future.

Phones ringing all morning
nurses and therapist visit

they fit her for a new oxygen mask
they want her to wear it when she sleeps

she doesn't like that stuff in her face

doesn't like the poking and pulling
testing useless muscles and patience

her right hand limp, swollen
her smallest finger inflamed

they try to stretch it out
she worries flesh will break open

her left hand not altogether gone
fingers slightly frozen in half clenches

she uses what still works

a couple fingers can place pills between still lips
the neck she turns to look at me
the mouth can form words and still smiles

she naps after jello

I sit outside and watch
the Spanish moss suffocate the cyprus trees

Sleep Turbulence
Ten times the chimes
turn over from the sound
hoo-hooting of an owl
I get up to smoke
go out to the steps
Listen to the wind move water
as cranes sing melancholy
tones strain across the fairway
Then a small green frog
perches on the wall
I duck, run past
I hate that feeling
unexpected dropping down
Conscious of smoke bad
around an oxygen tank
I move away a little, not quite
believing through the walls
I hear her breathing
“Is this Life?” she asked me
earlier that day and I’m still
not sure what to say

difficult to watch
like a run-over kitten
twisting in the street
her eyes say more
than her muted voice
today the catheter burned
it was stuck
1st nurse tried to remove it
afraid, she called the 2nd nurse
who succeeded
her father called
my grandfather
told me I should call him “Pete”
maybe later, after this
I fed her meatloaf, potatoes, applesauce
they say she eats more
when I feed her
not hungry, she eats
we feel better
that we may nourish
what can’t be cured
but the atrophy doesn’t slow
it feeds off our hope

Hunting for Hope
The Hunter calls
it is not the sweet sound
of the horn signaling the hunt
but rather the sick moment
of realization of death.

The Hunter calls, the harbinger,
bringing sad news of departure
of beauty of talent of friendship
of love.

The Hunter calls and I echo his call
into other hearts in hearing
to spread truth to tell the tragic tale
to provoke thought sentiment and philosophy
to examine to learn

and to reflect on little known effects
to find humor and to think
on the spirits of man living and dead
and to look for healing of loss of life
of goodness of kindness

of opportunities now missed
looking so much brighter through the places
now empty, the bricks now missing
in the architecture of our society

Yet, looking through those portals
one sees skies radiant
with clouds keeping secrets of gone-yonders
and wishes of the living rain down
great mists of renewal
of resurrection of life

The Hunter calls and I welcome his call
answering with curiosity and eagerness
to know to learn to live

it is always the shock
that invites the conscience to open
to enlighten, to find more than what appears

to look deeper into the facts
not to make judgment
(for judgment is reserved for God)
but to find the humanity and the purpose

for we die not randomly
but rather at very specific times
(untimely death is a concept for humans)

and though we may not always know
the reasons or the rhymes
most of the time
they find us anyway.


Tiago Santos said...

Hello! My Name is Tiago Dos Santos, I have read your poems! They are great =)
Would like to share my twin brother's poem that he just made up.
He's not a writter, nor am I. But we are really creative and full of ideas and dreams. Just wanted to share with you.
Hugs from a Portuguese boy in England! =)

Blessed be the child that
Grew from a fetus grain
That can cum with a chat
Filtered with sun or rain
And slowly burn away
...A male's pride
For gently stealing
His poker face

He sat beneath a light stone
Bruising away into his thoughts
Nothing speaks but his heartbeat as he's alone
And only destiny...
Only destiny would call the shots

Written by filipe dos santos
A walk in canal walk

Maraboo Slipperz said...

Thanks so Tiago.
Tell your brother I think his poem is lovely.