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Little bits keep falling out,
slipping between cracks,
sifting through fingers.
“Nothing’s lost,” he blithely chirps.
“Closed system. Closed system.”

And I understand him in theory.
But I can’t make it work in practice
because it might be here
but I can’t find it.

So, tell me again —
what’s your name?

 

Summer Night

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Toads saw wood
while their cousins bird-chirp —
a summer lullaby in two parts.

Suddenly up rush from the trembling blades
a flurry of fluffy four-winged ants.
In disarray they swarm about an outdoor light,
flying higgledy-piggledy,
chaotically,
haphazardly,
smacking their bodies against my window pane.

Broadcasting pheromones into the thick night air,
desperate to find mates,
they throw wings to the wind
and couple.
Then die.
(The luckless land in mouths and digestive tracts
of geckos and cats and dogs and men.)

Just as abruptly as they began
so they go.

And the chorus of amphibians plays on.

poor instrument of thought

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Like a mantra
(as if repeating it a million times will make it so)
man proclaims,
“I am worthy.  I am good.   I am someone.  I am . . . I am . . . I am . . .”

However,
no matter how many times I pronounce “sausage” over a carrot,
the vegetable remains orange.

tocsin

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They didn’t stop tonight.
They cried into the eerie hours,
competing with the wailing wind,
each sustained exhale a bludgeoning blow to the heart.

In a small community
the ongoing sound of sirens from emergency vehicles
means someone’s not coming home.

 

Lead me where you will, and I will (hopefully) follow

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We can’t be put right
until we are broken.
We can’t know joy
until we have visited sorrow.

In love the Father leads* his child into death.
If he shielded his beloved from all pain and bruising,
he’d have a self-absorbed infant
rather than a mature companion.

 
*(not “pushes” — not “forces” — not “throws” — not “abandons”
He goes first, and we often don’t follow.
He holds out his hand and says,
“Trust me!”)

NaBloPoMo

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NaBloPoMo_November_large_0

In April of this year I signed up for National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) and challenged myself to write and post a poem each day.  The pressure worked and I managed (with a few stumbles) to accomplish the goal (thanks to a lot of support and prompts!).

I miss posting daily (although I must say I am not sure where I found the time), and so I was delighted to find a new challenge:  National Blog Posting Month (NaBloPoMo).

SO — here we go again!  I will endeavour to post SOMETHING each day of November.

And who knows — it may become the habit I long to own.
You could join us!  Check it out here.

Ready, steady, GO!

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