Day 2

Day 2 of National Poetry Month:  30 poems in 30 days - 
the challenge 

and the one I'm dealing with - a messed up shoulder,

feels like a bloody jack hammer, pounding.

It's not like I'm a complainer, far from it,

but something's gotta give

in.

And it won't be me...I don't cave, never have,

unless of course it comes to my kids.  I'm a sucker for my kids,

they can talk me in and out of anything.

They know me, they show me...by caring for me now,
now that I'm broken, now that I'm older.
I can't write a more. 

Damn this bloody shoulder.

ldn

The eleventh day

(For Oso)

Logs are floating on the sea [outside my kitchen window]
and I 'm not sure yet if these
made their way ~ from up the river 
and floated down for me
on the eleventh day from the first day, the earth gave way
and drove them to their knees,
the day the salmon cried,
when their eggs flowed red,
to their final bed, 
beneath the crimson sea.

ldn

my friend

my friend, across the street,
comes over,
now and then, again
to the tree,
He waits,
I linger...

ldn

old barn

barn on Best Road. Washington State

It wasn’t that the barn or the cold wind in my bones

this fall had anything to do with it at all,

it wasn’t that at all,

was more like a forest falling,

a short fall,

and sometimes when you’re pretty

and older comes your call,

it ain’t the time to be who isn’t you at all.

ldn

Monday morning

come Monday morning,

we aught to take the train,

we could be back home,

by dawn again...

and if someone knows your gone,

or that I came,

We'll explain,

that you need to be here with your baby,

on  Monday  morning.

ldn.  

Into red.

I am your secret,

You are the keeper of it, so

hold me close to your heart, and soul.

Oh wicked one,

My kindred spirit,

You who knows,

You who taunts me with mine own blood,

and guts, 

then rushes off raging like a bull,  into red.

ldn 

House of blue a dream 12/ 012013

I painted my mother's house blue,

others helped, some escaped and hid away

into another room.

my friends were there,

those who knew,
those who lived on this earth once, too

but flew

It was a shanty, her house,

with broken rafters, and a ceiling

you could see through,

there were treasures there,

hidden,

away in places she had not forgotten,

to remove from old boxes.

I found one, a gift from her father,

rediscovered, it was new.

we placed it on a shelf, from where she flew

away from her house of blue.

ldn.