Modified Haiku in The Key of Sea - in three parts 17/30

#NaPoWriMo haiku challenge-4:9:4

Modified Haiku in The Key of Sea

In three parts

I

Another wave 

Won't stop for the shore because it can't. 

Energy's curse. 

II

Compulsive bursts 

Spit up the underbellies of thoughts

Then back to sea. 

III

Then back to shore 

Then back to sea, a marriage of fates

Without a truce. 

What is a Puddlepoem?

The story of puddlepoems  

Puddlepoems arose one autumn day in 2014 as I was out on my usual daily walk with the pup. 

I live in the evergreen lushness of the Pacific Northwest, and even though I reside in the middle of a city, I am surrounded by big skies, dense foresty parks and plenty of tangible earth. 

Partly inspired from the lovely photography of Andy Goldsworthy I saw years ago, and partly a way to process my thoughts as I wander around through sun and rain and gray, puddlepoems have been a way for me to share the beauty, pain and wonderment of being. 

Puddlepoem are an invitation to glimpse into how I see my surroundings as not just objects, but extensions of my curiosity. 

Meditating on place, time, materials and textures, the words are the conversations between myself and my thoughts. The noticing and questioning of this very life. 

Why puddles?

I loves the way puddles arise and cease to be, Malleable, reflective pools of possibility.

I can't say how a puddle is chosen, but each puddle or watery image I choose just feels right.

What if there are no Puddles?

Hey! I'm an artist! I can interpret puddles anyway I like.

What's the deal with the Poetry?

After I create the visual, I snap a picture and then in a stream of consciousness style, I try to reproduce the thoughts that informed my manipulation of the elements. Poetry is like painting with words. I love to learn how to observe and slow down my monkey mind.

As far as the poem goes, I try not to labor too long on format, editing or even second guessing my sentiment.

I choose to leave these poems raw.

I hope you enjoy my poetry as well as my photography. 

I would love to hear your comments.

XoN
Feb 2015

All The Things Your Heart Is 16/30

Take all the things your heart is

      And all the things your heart isn't, 

Can them 

      Into a jar 

                                  And watch the flickering lights 

                                                                   Blink on and

                                                                                      off like summer 

                                                                                    Fire bugs on a 

                                                                             Dim lit hazy night.

Above stars will play

                                Hide and seek

                                                  With night clouds 

                                                                             And moon-shadows.

When you go to slumber

Your mind will buzz 

With a million thoughts 

Until 

        Sleep 

                 sets 

                         you 

                                 free.

All at Once Yet Never Together 15/30

Heart and mind. 

                                   A metaphor murmuring 

                                                          And melting evermore

                             Into puddles of 

       Desire and despair. 

    Always all at once yet never together. 

                            Which one could stand alone?

As the sea and the shore join endlessly 

                                                         Rock by pebble by 

                              Sand to silt. 

         I am left to reflect how the 

                                           Waning tide suffers 

                                                                          no remorse 

                                                       As it leaves me. 

                                                                    Returning later, 

                                           It will not grieve that

I have gone. 

Tomorrow is Tax Day 14/30

Each moment is significant. 

For example, this line at the post office. 

Tomorrow is tax day. 

That mom with the two young children. 

What she says to them: wait here. 

How they look at her. 

And they are watching, learning, learning about waiting. 

Children are always learning about waiting. 

The older woman behind me. 

How she chews her fingers and looks around. 

Once she was young and then after that she was somewhere in between 

like me. 

Each line has a memory of another line. 

Whether or not the end of any line gets you what you wanted, 

the wait is often noted, recorded, reviewed. 

Each anticipation of any wait-er has been solidified in the mind; 

calcified blocks of 

personal stories and vignettes. 

How our waiting settles into these clerks, 

perhaps to ground their slowness to slow 

and then seemingly slower.

Did someone press pause on this moment? 

Is it for me to finally notice?

Should I take this time for something significant? 

Conversely, sometimes it seems we believe 

that frantically looking around at anyone 

who will meet our eye will speed up the process. 

We are all waiting for our turn. 

Life is not waiting for us, but oh how we wait for it. 

For it to happen. 

For it to unfold and reveal its mysteries. 

Right now is always fighting our anxiety with 

elongated space between here and there. 

Every line in our life is like time passing. 

How we wait is telling. 

How we wait 

is who we are

In each 

significant moment. 

Somewhere Between Neither 13/30

Yesterday I said I will

Catch up to a breath,

Catch up to the moment.

 

But Today I'll be somewhere between neither.

Try to hold what it was,

It disappears. 

Try to hold it tight,

It begs to be let go. 

There is no future for wanting. 

There is no breath waiting to be had.

Starry Eyed Hopes 12/30

Those starry eyed hopes,

That this life sees who I am.

Life is but a dream.

A Hard Truth 9/30

Waking up inside small circles

Still asleep. 

Still wrapping around and around and 

Around.

In truth,

The center is hard to locate.

The center has its own center.

Its own center doesn’t exist.

So what am I

Wrapping around if not 

Nothing at all?

This One to the Sea 11/30

Mother takes the hand of little fingers,

kissing them one by one.

This finger down the mountain,

This finger through the trees,

This finger touch the sky,

This one to the sea.

Mother touches so gently each blade of grassy hair on little heads.

Here sprouts the life,

Here the flowing gold,

Here flowering seeds,

Here the dreaming folds.

Mother walks with care, small steps and slowly.

First steps in the water,

First falling to the ground,

First dance with windy music,

First whispers in the round.

River Won't Listen 10/30

River rushing,

Messing through tranquility,

Upsetting soft grasses 

And still trees.

Calm sky clouds

Stay open for a wide sun.

But river shatters the rays

Upon rocks and edges.

River won’t listen 

To birdsong or deer hooves moving.

Instead, tantrum-ing down mountainsides,

And butting up against boundaries and lines.

Always running,

although towards or away from,

We may never know.

Whirl-pooled and streaming puddles of childish tears,

Crying until they’re all dried up.

I'm No Sooner Arrived 8/30

I'm back from the woods where I spend a few days off the grid...I couldn't post for #napowrimo, so the following posts will be catch up posts of what I put together at Breightenbush Hot Springs in Oregon.

Sooner and later I'm always

Looking for shadows and shapes

That disappear behind 

Each distraction,

Dissolve into every reflection

And dip beneath an under-looked depth. 

And later I awake to find 

I'm no sooner arrived. 

A Drop in The Bucket 7/30

Today's writing prompt from NaPoWriMo is: Write about Money

A Drop in the Bucket

It’s in our DNA,

To build upon and build upon.

To multiply, and increase.

To take up more space, 

To be our own. 

To identify what is ‘mine’. 

One penny connecting to another,

Becoming another form of currency, 

Attracting more connections.

The endless becoming of many pieces 

That together represent 

More than the whole.

Culturally the monies display differently, 

But underlying the structure, 

Their concepts, 

look the same.

Like with our own DNA, 

Money buys ninety percent junk, 

Only ten percent for what we need to function.

Often, our wallets suffer from disease and loss. 

Some feel emptiness,

Some are obese,

Some are tainted with bad blood.

Many submit to the God gene and feel all powerful,

While others are stolen

Disappearing into the masses,

Unnoticeable,

                  An insignificant 

                                              drop 

                                                                       in the bucket.

It’s in our DNA to make more.

It’s in our DNA to take over,

As we spend

                              we speak,

                                                                 Through our voices,

                                          we evolve.

Aubade to a Sleepless Night 6/30

Aubade to a Sleepless Night 

Let me return this to you. 

It was a long night,

Restless and aching,

With sheets damp with worry. 

Upon your dawning,

I thought to give this back

See if you could do better with it. 

With its colorless cast,

Soundless lamenting,

It's not so much that I tired of it,

It just didn't seem to take to my efforts. 

So, here it is,

With its soft luring,

Whispering and warmth 

It so cruelly withheld from me. 

I know as soon as you rise, 

It will nuzzle up 

To your sunny disposition 

And stop racing around 

Through the gaps in my breaths.

Murky Waters 5/30

Murky waters. 

A place to stay away from,

Perhaps a state to beware of.

Or rather something to not get mixed up in. 

It might be too deep,

Too dark,

Unclean or worse. 

Yet, from the womb we emerge

A sooty mess,

All muddy from pure beings blood,

And we arrive full of light,

Having endured the darkest 

Mysteries of life.

#puddlepoem #napowrimo2015 #napowrimo #poemaday #poetrymonth #poetry #earthart

Enter or Exit 4/30

Where on earth to go?

Wheels can spin fast or turn slow. 

Enter or exit. 

Birdy Told Me Nothing 3/30

A little birdy told me nothing. 

Nothing about what was to be. 

Not a tweet about love,

Or loss, or glee. 

Of pain, hope and joy, there was silence,

Only a lone crow caw upsetting the balance. 

No flits of light on my shoulder,

Or visions of happy life when I'm older. 

Just here and now, amongst sky and ground. 

Inside just this moments sudden breeze I am found. 

A little birdy said nothing to me,

                                         and as it will be, 

                                                   Only a song for its mate

                            High in the tree. 

This is Mine 2/30

Now, just you wait a minute. 

I'm not done yet. 

I see you.  

I hear your scuttling. 

And you lurk around 

just about every corner. 

I know you're waiting. 

And you're restless. 

What is it with your impatience?

Your hunger?

For what?

Get your own. 

This is mine. 

This is mine. 

Subtly Step More Solidly 1/30

April is National Poetry Month

Puddlepoems is Participating in NaPoWriMo 2015 and will post a Puddlepoem-a-day for the Month 

Something not quite right,

Out of place,

Can't put your finger on it,

But it's right there,

Waiting for you to say ohhhh,

Waiting for that stomach drop feeling,

Then, 

oh. 

The whoosh of realization,

Something doesn't belong,

You don't belong.

The word imposter spits at you,

Taunting you with "I see you"

"I know you." 

But it doesn't 

And you're not. 

You belong right where you stand,

Because, 

Well,

Because you are standing there. 

Then,

Something not quite right,

Out of place,

You subtly step more solidly, 

shift right

Then left. 

There,

On your place. 

You belong. 

#puddlepoem #napowrimo #1 #instagram 

The Never Expected Expectation (two for tuesday)

An explosion of sorts,

Out of the blue,

Or more accurately gray. 

We never expect,

Or rather we pretend to not,

The hail, the clap of thunder after the flash. 

And what joy, slight fear, 

a slice of awe, that this 

unexpected expectation can bring. 


#twofortuesday #puddlepoem

Lengths of Time Like an Inch Worm

Let me know when you take flight.

And how the air is sweeter,

That leaves a bitter trail as you go.

I’ll be watching from below.

How the air breathes sweeter,

Swollen with fertile scents and satiated longings.

Left with the bitter trail, here I stay

Watching from afar in the gap between the twist and fray

Swollen, with fertile scents, to satiate the longings,

The lengths of time like an inch worm.

Watching, from afar, the gap twists the fray

Alone I lay.

In lengths of time

you to will land, tired,

Near to where I lay below,

As you share your sweetened glow.