Things Upon My Altar

Trinkets from my former days
Collected through the years
Remind me of the friends I’ve known
The laughter and the tears

Elephants for wisdom
My wise grandma gave to me
Silver relics from Tibet
Remind of tyranny

Kwan Yin for compassion
Yin and Yang are hard to be
Somehow balance comes askew
When life’s in front of me

Orchids then for Beauty’s grace
Around me every day
In every single thing I see
Her magic light will play

The cloth once wrapped the head of she
Who made the thing by hand
Dyed and blocked in fruits she grew
In India’s native land

The whole thing sits upon a frame
An instrument to play
The harpsichord my father built
In distant younger days

I’ve many altars through the house
I pass throughout the day
My heart and soul, my family
For whom I love and pray

And I, romantic soul I am
With reminiscent mind
Am wrapped in love from all of them
Who treated me so kind

***

Hi folks, I'm still on a break because my kids are visiting and I'm still deeply steeped in Jason's contest. I hope you enjoy this sentimental tribute to my family and friends. It's not quite the dark and mysterious poetry I usually write, and I'm not apologizing by any means! But I'm just feeling the love and wanted to share. I hope you are all enjoying summer.

Joan's Debut at The Met

I am taking a break from blogging for most of July, except to participate in Jason Evan's flash fiction contest over at Clarity of Night: In Vino Veritas, (Truth in Wine). For your enjoyment, here is my entry:

Joan's Debut at The Met

“Sing it again,” the master instructed. “Control your vibrato.”

Joan put her hand on the Steinway and tightened the muscles in her back.

“Ah ah ah ah aaaah,” her voice rang up the scale. Sustaining the high note, the tone vibrated her head.

A crack chimed. Her goblet shattered. Wine spilled into the silver tray beneath.

“You are ready for the stage, Diva,” the master grinned.

Joan glowed.

*

Walking toward the subway, Joan dreamed an aria as she passed the Lincoln Center.

“Brava!” the Chagalls applauded from behind the glass, luminous in the empty night.

Joan curtsied to the murals. Raising her head, she found herself staring down the barrel of a gun.

“Your money and your jewelry,” the thief demanded.

Her heart pounded. She tried to scream but no sound came.

The thief rammed the gun into Joan’s ribs. Her back muscles tightened. She opened her mouth, emitting a high note. The thief stepped back in surprise. The note grew stronger, Joan’s body vibrating with the pitch. The thief dropped his gun and fell to his knees, clawing his head. Her voice rose to a crescendo. Windows shattered throughout the center, shards dropping to the courtyard below. She gasped abruptly. Alarms sounded. The thief lay unconscious. Blood dripped from his ears.

Joan’s muscles were taut piano strings. Hearing footsteps approach, she whirled toward the sound. A policeman. Her shoulders dropped in relief.

“Are you alright ma’am?” the officer inquired.

“I could use a glass of wine,” she whispered.

The Messenger

Often I find myself wondering, damn, why can't we talk to them, why can't we make them listen! There is something wrong with the way things are; the way the rain falls all at once, the urgent feel of the wind, the pounding heat from the sun.

Something about that woman across the road is different. I think maybe she can hear me. I'm just going to sit here staring at her day after day, for weeks, even months, until she gets the message. I have to make her understand that only because she has speech and is not confined to the field, she has the power to change things.

What I wouldn't give for power like that...

Liturgy

In the wind they heard
The three graces chanting soft
A summer None song

Times 4

Vesper tagged me and so I'll cooperate, but in order not to perpetuate this any further than it already has to be, I'm not tagging you! But feel free to just do it if you want to. No strings attached.

Four Movies You Can See Over and Over

Zefferelli's Romeo and Juliet
The Wizard of Oz
Jesus Christ Superstar (please stop laughing, it was imprinted on me when I was 12, I can't help it!)
Passion in the Desert (it's about a man and a leopard and their cross species love)

Four Places You Have Lived

San Francisco Bay Area, CA
Greater San Diego, CA
Santa Cruz, CA
Asheville, NC


Four TV Shows You Love(d) to Watch

American Idol
Ugly Betty
Gray's Anatomy
Six Feet Under


Four Places You Have Been on a Vacation

Europe
Thailand
India
Nepal

Four of your favorite foods

Berries off the vine
Peas in the pod, off the vine
Grilled salmon
Maple syrup

Four Websites You Visit Daily

Facebook
Google
Amazon
As many blogs as I can

Four Places You Would Rather Be
(Sorry Vesper, for ripping you off here, but these top three are also true for me)

The seaside
Manhattan
At home, writing
Swimming in a fresh clear lake

Four Things You Hope to Do Before You Die

Successfully write and publish a novel
Live abroad
Have a wonderful love affair that works well and nourishes us both
See the USA successfully adopt a compassionate system of National Health Care


Four Novels You Wish You Were Reading for the First Time

My own yet to be written novel
My blogging friends' soon to be released novels
Anything not read yet, by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
The Tiger's Wife by Téa Obreht (due out in 2010, the short story in The New Yorker a few weeks ago was awesome, yes, once again it relates to cats).

A Bridge

I stood at the sea,
Looking skyward at bridges,
Unfinished, empty

No permit issued
To put supports in the sand,
They rusted away

Sand backfilled the holes,
Somehow this is a good thing,
A new day, fresh start

Strung above me now
An engineering wonder
Has started anew

How far must I dig
Beneath the unstable sands
To find bedrock?

How strong are the strands?
Cars might fall into the sea!
Paralyzing fears

Before I build it
I kneel down and pray to You,
Help me find the rock!

I see the city
Shining there across the sea,
And now I must build.

This Senryu cycle was inspired by a dream I had last night.

Happy Father's Day

One day I argued
Culture isn't dead at home!
Then you showed me this.

Happy Father's day Pappy du bois

Paper Candy

Spring rolls into summer
On thunderheads that wear your face

You appear,
Wrapped in paper candy,
A ray of opiate dreams in distant lands

I long,
To touch your skin

I cry,
Torrents, as the rain cries,
Washing a promise of you
Into yesterday

A War of Thoughts

On the battlefield
Neutron explosions
Of planted mines
In neuron tunnels
Leave gaping holes
Where roses and lilies
Once grew, and thrived.
Alas, even icy waters
Of a glacier stream
Will not cool the fire.

A Song from the Sea

On the shore,
I stared, facing west
As you erased the sand
Away from under my heals
And I lost my balance
Falling backwards
To the ground

I jumped rope
With seaweed grass
You spat out to dry upon
The shore, and yelled, yee hah!
Whipping and whirling the strand
Snapping in the air, it wrapped
My ankle, black and blue
Bruised, I fell, laughing,
Your mouth cooled

For an eternity
You came and went
Raging against the rocks
Sending your frothing spittle
High into the air, mist covering
My face, I smiled as the sun
Burned colors in clouds
Pink, orange, golden
Sunk away now

I’d take you
Willingly watch your
Rages, comings and goings
If you’d soften my hard edges
Make me forget the ground
Winds caressing once
Rocks now sand
I’d take you