The Entire History of a Bee

comments trail behind
lazy thoughts stirred up by winds of words,
steamed up in waters of many poems

the entire history of a bee
follows it to every flower
and leaves its traces there

but the flower feels just the feet
and the breeze of tiny wings
and rejoices in the intimate kiss
of the lil buzzy bee

i guess comments
are sorta like that bee, right?
oh! well
hmm…maybe they are
more like the flower stirred
by the bee’s poetic kiss?
fragrance flying and petals sighing
and green leaves rejoicing
that God made bees


Beyond That Deep Horizon

I have seen deep rivers,
tasted long deep wells…
I have sensed some deeper places
underneath that
bedrock scoured,
bedrock bathed,
bedrock carved
in bass basalt and blurry
with water movement.

those rivers run, flow
in clear water,
in cool water,
in living water
come down brilliant from stars
in drops of crystal light,
in flakes of liquid gentle night.

that water primal, original
and not yet tasted with achy teeth…
that water drained pure
and drawn from veins of gods good
but long ago forgotten gods
with whole hearts soaked, besotten
by longings large and looming….
well that water is
right there!

you can cast down buckets
on lines of hope
long and strong,
vibrant with purpose,
but those rivers open
only to the meek,
to the lowly,
to they who know
the password is sorrow,

I admit I’ve been biting my tongue
for some time now, I’ve been
waiting and wanting,
longing to pour my heart
out to you, to bleed on you and you
not wipe it away in shame

but instead you’d
dip low,
dip graceful,
dip soft
beneath the silver surface
into crystal waters running
and draw up healing blood of gods,
lift out liquid songs of stars sprung up
and out again to fly.

I admit it has occurred to me,
maybe you are water…
no, waters
(cus the “S” softens the syllable
and adds a blurry velvet to the word),
maybe you are stone,
are bedrock, are riverbanks blurry,
overlaid with warm velvet,
with steel over that and under,
and blurry velvet inside again
ever singing of snuggles and tickles
and of sorrows too…

yes, I think that’s it…that’s you
and in this fading light of day
washing over your face
(like water)
in blues and blues and blues
I receive this treasure unto my heart,
breath held for something coming,
breath released for something here,
breath given for deep rivers,
and I wait for that bedrock sunset
writ large in red and banked in blue
there, just beyond that deep horizon.tumblr_ncem5qeJkb1tp2pyqo1_500

A Question, Constance

Good morning Constance…I have been mulling something over as a possibility…so I am going to ask you:

Would you like me to post a short lexicon, or Rosetta Stone for my poems as I post them?

I have been loth to do so except in certain instances because I strongly feel that part of poetry’s joy and challenge is on the part of the reader…believe it or not, you help “write” the poem when you read it, think about it, and let it into your heart.  I am frequently amazed at things that people pull out of the poems, things that were right there in plain sight all along that I flat out missed…

(for instance, give How Bones Feel a fresh look, and read for subtext…Heather and I had quite a laugh at our last session as she related to me the things that jumped out at her, and every single one of them was completely unconscious on my part!!  It was pretty dang funny)

Anyway, there has been a fairly good case for the other option, and I have seen good fruit in readers and their appreciation of poetry as I share a bit more of what my metaphors are pointing to, what I am really trying to say.

So, please use the comment section of this post to let me know if that would be helpful, or just let them stand and be…

Thanks!  🙂  So glad you are along to start year number two of Grace Notes!