Monday, April 25, 2011

What a Woman Does

What a woman does is what
A woman must: Walk fast
In heels beside her man;
Be home in time to make
Her man feel at home
In his own house; interpret
A complete conversation
Since he obviously understands
Too little to respond; Maintain
A career and relationship
While her man keeps his career;
When he smiles, she succeeds;
Hold her man up at the end
Of his brilliant career (setting
Hers aside, even if she is an
Equally famous painter) to care
For him until there is nothing
Left to give.  Love like this is
Left out of the painting, heart
Breaking and Lonely, but we know
There are men who do the same.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Her Vision

She said she stood at a crossroad
Between Mohammed and Jesus
Christ.  She said the choice was
Easy—Jesus took her by the hand
And Mohammed told her it was
Okay to go that way.  Belonging
is a wonderful, difficult transition.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

And He Thought of It Long Before Easter

A note popped up reminding of Easter
In my e-mail.  It’s time to send cyber
Cards to our loved ones simply because there
Is no longer time to write a full letter.

It’s true!  A goodie box to my daughters
Will deliver up to ten days from here,
Thoughtfully packed up the evening before
Easter.  On arrival what will they think of mere

Nonsense after the fact, when, of two, neither
One cares what happened to a kind healer,
A sandal-wearing, int’resting teacher
Who died two thousand years ago either

Buried in one much disputed grave or
Another.   As a child of a preacher,
The connection between chickens and hare
And the eggs they share, sought by young ones where

Some weary parents hid them to keep their
Belief in tall tales, escapes this reader’s
Suspension of disbelief.  The Author
Of mankind’s story, I would rather

believe, had planned to become much lower
Than the angels to pay what we debtors
Could not pay with our lives.  He said, “Father,
forgive them, they don’t know what they do.” For

Us he died and in three days he appeared—
Alive, undaunted, an answer to prayers
Long prayed in the past, for hundreds of years--
Now by those who forget about Easter!

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Poetry In Motion

 Phil showed Hunter how to blow eggs last night to decorate them with paint for Easter.  Two were successful, three failed.  We had yummy French Toast with some of the egg contents, this morning.  Afterward, Hunter thought the acrylic-painted egg of his would be fun to roll on the floor.  Yeah, not such a great idea.
Watching the sunset by a lighthouse

Reflections at Vastra Hamnen after the sun goes down
My poetry in motion!

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Easter Week Morning

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Rising late from sleep, eating a slow

Breakfast with the radio on, we note
A reminder of the great faithfulness

Of Our Father--a chorus of yellow
Daffodils nod in agreement in the court-
Yard--of His mercies, new every morning,

Like the variation of birdsong wafting
From the trees, punctuated by gull cry.
We almost miss the significance of this
Peace, our son’s Easter Break from school

During Passion Week, how soft the cool
Breeze after months of frigid wind and ice,
How quickly we are lulled to comfort

While someone we don’t know suffers--
Taking all the blame for a guilty world--

And we marvel crossed contrails in the sky.
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Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Easter Break Troilet

Five children at the People’s Park,
Two mothers, and the sun.
Turtles, kangaroos, even an Ark.
Five children at the People’s Park
Refused to listen to their mothers’ barks,
Running away as if they didn’t hear one.
Five children at the People’s Park,
Two mothers and the sun.