poem for us

what poetry means
are soft words
how we feel
blanket warm
in light of dawn

with a pleasant look on our face.

and music with delicious melodies. 

rest calmly night

 

no wind, yet the sea moves 

on slow long breathes in and out;

respiring a sweeping rush of shore pebbles.

folding waters cause an occasional boom on the shore.

the near full moon reflecting

white sparkles in the sea

throws scattered far reaching points of light,

in the nearly-still envelope of evening.

 

how you do it swell.

evening, you're a sweet song

i know you mean well,

i can tell by how you've done.

a small boat in light ripples

 my Monterey, Snort,

built in 1930s when the name 

meant a shot of whiskey.

how sweet our time together.

how i patched you

and worked to make you right.

thank you,  Morgan for selling her to me.

 i ordered a two cylinder, 900 pound  diesel engine 

from China.  it came to the boat yard in Sausalito.

i put it in.  a pal set it straight in the boat.

and i hooked the mechanical and electrical.

 

i can taste the salt water breeze of the Pacific

when i think of it.

oh, we had our tine running in the bay

and on the ocean.

 

 ***

 

hurray.

for the fiftieth anniversary of the Oakland bay bridge

i took my 28 foot old wooden sloop Navigator,

my nautical wood working friend Mike and Meri 

and along with over a thousand other boats

on a black windless night

 

 packed close like sardines a tin i heard them hitting  each other.

managing in the thick of music, lights and celebration

we  had a fine rime and got home without a nick.

all part of life on San Francisco Bay

sloop

a lengthy swift sloop at sail at sea
with half a breeze and half a sun as you man her
nowhere to go and no call to go
just time to set far back
look up to the tall sturdy mast
as nylon sails snap
to the occasional wind's lick

the ocean spits bits of spray
back and forth over the bow
with a gentle lift the shore is visible
then a recline and shore is gone
another lift and the long, low line of land is there again

no need for a shirt with warm air rushing over you
and your hair is twisted and thrown and dampened by spray
a red neck feels good and a tan face
makes it better to have lived this way
strong hands hold the ship to a meandering course
from nowhere
in particular
and back a gain

scattered over

 can't get away today,                                    going to cover us well                                         is the prediction,                                                      stay in to keep dry.                                      plus there is  more on the way                              with thunder they say                                  and we haven't even begun.                         now is quiet as France.  let's                    someday waltz across the bridge.                          with umbrellas

with the volume of a bright candle glow

  red clock lights

blinked away this morning.

hello okay.

blinking  meant the current was interrupted.

good morning anyway.

don't blow a gasket.

i'm surprised the flashing didn't wake me.

how are you with blinking?

good thing coffee settles everything, that's      my thinking

glow on.

 

light stepping

 
good shoes, the right jacket.
open land to the end of the field.
cross the piece of woods beyond.
dry weeds snap and crackle as i walk

through the short stretch of brush
to the pond. it's morning
and already a pleasant day
can be seen ahead. 

the good sun, light breeze. sit and listen for a while to the soundsof the day. a bird or two and large clouds. enough to make a full world. 

make a note: a very good time of morning for an easy hike

War is hell

 such torture the world suffers.

unnecessary to endure.

not stars nor flowers or love.

come out of that; turn a light on above.

it's coming from the sun

it’s fitting that I start from here 

the tale that I can’t tell 

just meditate and don’t relate 

you know the story well

 

 i’ll tell you what the prophet sees 

the things I can’t relate the thoughts you’ll twist into your toys the things you won’t debate

 it’s not what you expect you see that’s how we play the game we hesitate instead of flow as the world remains in change

 the greatest words I’ve written the wildest things I’ve said were sung by children half-asleep and wetting in their bed

 there is secret news I’m going to say it’s sleeping in your heart but take your time, it’s here with mine don’t leave before you start 

 it’s coming from the sun there’s nothing more than that the fire burns, heats the earth and here the poet sat while knock, knock, knocking the postman at the door brings coupons free, some for me and still I look for more 

 but there’s something that I’ve written the wildest thing I’ve read when world began in secret news the words some others said it’s not as you expect, you see that’s how the world does go we go about trying to learn instead of forgetting what we know

 while knock, knock, knocking the old man at the gate chases his hat, loves his cat and that’s more than he can take

 beyond the last tomorrow when the old man loses sight thoughts will rush like choir boys passing each by candle light 

 it’s coming from the sun 

  i can see it coming down 

what it is our words won’t say but there’s sure enough around

 it’s fitting that I say no more of the tale that I can’t tell 

after all, I’m only you, a poet too, as well

sail on lightly

 the bay in light winds, always ready

  on clear, fine temperature, sunny days.

  i love how your waters rolled under me.

 Cousin Don. Sharlett. Crab louie.

 Mike, dock workers, familiar faces.

at home on the cove. 

 beyond is my bay.

with  the great, steel, red-orange bridge. 

call her the Golden Gate. 

how did you slip from my grasp?

i know you're waiting for me

 as i for you.

i had so much life to live.

Pot lucky

 time for good weather

here it is now and what do you know?

our  deer friends nibbled buds off everything they were able.

little trees, good bushes, that's their table. way to go.

they snip sharp as scissors.

deer do. snipping whatever.

good luck now.  today a Pot luck after service.

can't wait to see what everyone brings.

 nonsense, of course i can and will...for all sorts of things.

i love good taste like deer do.

warm and I walked our grounds

 not muddy but soft.

would be great if it drys.

and jo's lemon pie was a winner;

one of several at our pot luck dinner.

tuesday some

 back to dimitri's.  the dog opens at eleven. 

 we found

 no parking in front.

the day very cold, wore my heavy coat, walked

to the door.  the food didn't

get her vote.  a matter of poor grease.

Potatoes and eggs were fine.

i thought ... and thought ... it was okay.

we took Catherine there another

time ago.  we're Oberniks now. 

sun and colding

 seems should be dickens better

thick and fine; keep in line. 

 it doesn't look like jacket weather. 

the calender creates another tale.

on the ground is a surprise sight

the falling snow is sticking white

some cities are better for what they did

they built their baseball stadium with a lid

big, fat, way out of season snow flakes

have been falling since eight this morning.

no pause. four p.m. it's nearly stopped

Six inches of snow is now melting. rapidly.

busy weather day happening. 

Mystery

 no deer or chipmunks; no sign of them.

 that's why it's so quiet.

cri-min-nently (one word for the occasion.)

Meaning caspita or holysmoke.

looking,  perusing quietly.

thought I'd say a day like this

the robin doesn't seem to know

he's a robin.

 

we're all out'a sorts.

pinch me

 the decorative old  grey piano shop on the left bank

has a family business next door which

steamed clean the load of wash i carried there.

would be

if the weather only warms

in a display of it's charms

summer then will burst forth

to hold us in its arms.

lines of grey

 beyond the far horizon

 heavy  rain clouds pile.

morning when i'm rising

 darkness stacks up half a mile.

Dreamed

 swam all night in dream

mainly upstream.

 peaches and cream filled my head

so it seemed.

Prefer

 woke up on a saturday and couldn't say 

the word preferably.  it came out in pieces.

stumped me completely. 

otherwise, I'm reading an excellent 

book called The American West by Dee Brown.

  been reading the same story

In five or six books for two years.

Started with Tecumseh WwhT beyond Lewis

and Clark into the old west 

eventually into the twentieth  Century.

Wednesday

 middle of the week, 

keep holding on.

spring has reached Its peak.

soon rain'll be gone.

  

Had it

 in a good way. what'd i have?

all the necessary lines.

looked around on dry ground.

then i found every pound.

the name, the month.

couldn't find those. uh

checked several times.

the wrong year.  It was there finally.

when i found the right year.

my name is Rosa. 

i'm cleaning, doing poetry repair.

for me and you, reader. i swear.

who is the leader?  in the air?

we all care.  back up. back up.

everywhere. now take it easy.

lovely day

 says it all, now what do you say.

tell me how you feel.

it may warm soon.  by afternoon?

no way.  not today. but spring is real.

i know we need more flowers.

from what is seen, lawns are green.

spring is early. on the way 

in a matter of hours.

 

 Kirtland

An hour away.

Quilt show until May first.

april 1 2022

 on the top right of the main page tap "home" and you will have twenty posts per page. 

also on the home page is the "archive" revealing posts back to 2007.

Carolina sun

 as the heat of the Carolina sun poured down 

brothers Wilbur and Orville worked

 to overcome the skeptical naysayers.

first building then improving while

 experimenting with their flying machine

 amid the blowing hot sands at Kitty hawk.

such unbelievable excitement and courage 

 while maintaining calm composure and 

persistence on the way to their goal.

it was one hundred years ago the Wright 

brothers  from Dayton, Ohio calmly unveiled

 a gift to the world: the flying machine.

what a time this 20th Century.

no sooner did the first horseless carriages   

begin shaking, throwing dust and rattling  up and down the 

streets when flyers appeared in the sky overhead.

&&& 

Pulitzer winning author David McCullough 

brings to life the story of the great adventure -

how man began to soar like the birds: The Wright Brothers

the date

 it is a pleasure to be reading a book

and when suddenly the date is mentioned.

i find it is this week or the other day.

makes me feel positioned in the right zone.

not far from home.

neither the suthor nor i are alone.

we just moved closer together.

this works in any weather. 

weeks to go

 after a month of waiting

today i got two injections against covid.

special shots for people with no imunity.

now i wait, just wait, two more weeks

for imunity from the medicine to kick in.

how now brown cow

needed rhyme to show i'm serious

not delirious in proof this is a poem.

poof. up in smoke. and like shots -

double poof. 

Scratch this.  It's too early to write right.

day do you have?

 to go major factual i

checked the calender

it's 23 March in this year 2022.

  then noticed  the farm fields.

 

soggy all around; sure enough.

dark clouds this afternoon.

nothing significant.

appreciate what we have.

a song in the morning

 i got my hat, brought my coat

taking  a walk is what i'm about.

Oh, i'll bring my book in case there's time.

leave yours on the hook, next to mine.

so sit a while, stay in line.

 think and smile.

may some sunshine start the day.

during a lacuna i'll make plans

on warm beach sands

to lunch a bunch. Oh man, ole man.

so close to rhyme.

hills to climb 

curiouser and curiouser

first day o spring

 feels like it ought to be

sun, still, wonderful.

nothing to fabricate  about 

this repetition of goodness.