I leave a noseprint
On the glass
To a Spider
"Little spider, why do you spin,
Webs so fine, webs so thin?
Why do you sit upon my wall?
How do you manage not to fall?"
April 1971
The sea thunders
Then it rushes
Clutches
Jagged rocks
With painful embrace
Desparate
Clawing
Dragging back
Into itself.
Page Five / Page Three / Back to Top / Bottom and links
Page Five
Donovan. . .
A breath of fresh air
tasted me and passed
Strange,
how memory floods and rushes
bringing driftwood
on the shore of my mind.
The pools twist and writhe
in the eternal grasp
of thought.
June 1972
Page Six / Page Four / Back to Top / Bottom and links Sometimes paper Page Seven / Page Five / Back to Top / Bottom and links When I write Sometimes thoughts I wonder July 8, 1972
Page Six
Escapes me
In a mad dash
--A wild rush of words
A poem unfinished
Forgotten
In the mad dash
--A wild rush of words,
For lost
Paper.
July 6, 1972
Page Seven
The words
Run down my pen
Onto the paper
From my mind
I write
Startle me more
Than my friends
Who know me.
(continued) Page Eight / Page Six / Back to Top / Bottom and links
Page Eight
What I'm really thinking
While I'm writing
Poetry.
Unnoticed, I write
Secretly thinking to myself.
Summer raindrops melt the sun
Mist away when day is done.
Night-time mists o'ercloud the dew
Changing land that I once knew.
(continued) Page Nine / Page Seven / Back to Top / Bottom and links
Page Nine
Tattered shroud of night undone
Flees the dawn before the sun.
Dew-kissed earth awaked by song
Ope's green eyes 'ere sleeping long.
I, in morning's early hours
Kiss the drowsy, petalled flowers
'Till they open sleepy eyes
And gaze upon the sunny skies.
Whisp'ring streams in mountain grass
laughing rivers join and pass
Rushing to the tranquil sea
Plunging in, ecstatically.
1972-1973 sometime
Page Ten / Page Eight / Back to Top / Bottom and links
Page Ten
Princess spring
Washed her hair
And shook it out in the sky.
Left the suds
On the sea shore
And her hair on the grass
To dry.
Fall, 1973
Page Eleven / Page Nine / Back to Top / Bottom and links
Page Eleven
The world of "What was supposed to be."
And "What would have happened then?"
Is only a few decisions away
Yet quite beyond our ken.
December 4, 1973, 2:20 A. M.
Who Made The Stars? I used to think that stars Through the years I learned Such is the stuff with which Perhaps God lit the stars Evening, January 12, 1974
Were magic glitter for wishes
Flung by Elf-folk
Dancing on the lawn.
(continued) Page Twelve / Page Ten / Back to Top / Bottom and links
That that they are nebulous clouds
Of gasses--burning, burning
Like a torch.
The Lord molds the infinite spaces
We call our universe, being
Slightly presumptuous.
As magic glitter for wishes,
While Elf-folk, praising,
Danced with Angels, on the lawn.
Page Thirteen / Page Eleven / Back to Top / Bottom and links
Page Thirteen
I met a butterfly one day
Sitting in an evergreen tree.
I helped it dry and fly away.
Away it flew into the wind;
I saw Joy flutter through it
And then it was gone--forever.
I kept its hollow gray cocoon
To remember the splendour
And Joy in flight at finding freedom.
(continued) Page Fourteen / Page Twelve / Back to the top / Bottom and links
Page Fourteen
Go then, butterfly, on new wings.
Find the warmth of wind and sky.
Freedom is yours now, and forever.
My love follows you, brother mine.
Yes, I'll miss you, here behind.
Don't look back. I'll follow, someday.
Night of Departure. Sunday, February 24, 1974.
Page Fifteen / Back to Page Thirteen / Back to top / Bottom and links
The sun is fuzzy and red at dawn
'Cause he still has his pajamas on.
October 18, 1974 10:30 A. M.
Page Sixteen / Page Fourteen / Back to Top / Bottom and links
Page Sixteen
The weaver in the clouds
Who combs their fabric
Twists it with stong fingers
And weaves a cloak
From rain, mist, and sunlight
To clothe the dusk
With many-colored cloth
Whipped down the sky
By the wind.
January 13, 1975, 11:25 P. M.
Late Night
Page Seventeen / Page Fifteen / Back to Top / Bottom and links
Page Seventeen
Soft,
fuzzy,
round,
warm,
kitten!
Mew!
SCRATCH!!
BITE!!!!
Teeny,
tiny,
sweet,
'dorable,
CARNIVORE!!
Eats
my hand.
September 1977
Page Eighteen / Page Sixteen / Back to Top / Bottom and links
Page Eighteen
My love was told when he was quite young
That a clown's life is filled with pain.
Behind the makeup there are big, clown tears
And they sleep in the streets in the rain.
When he told this story I had to laugh
At the image of clowns in the street
Still, on rainy days I sometimes worry
I'll run over a clown's big feet.
Where do they go when it's not raining,
And why can't they stay when it's wet?
I don't know, but it seems unfair
That some of their needs aren't met.
(continued)Page Nineteen / Page Seventeen / Back to Top / Bottom and links
I see the light at the end of the tunnel
And sometimes I think it must be a train,
Still I thank my stars I'm not like the clowns
Who have to sleep out in the rain.
Drive carefully when you travel at night,
And especially when in the rain,
So you don't run over the millions of clowns
That have to sleep out in the rain.
March 25, 1994
I watch the driveway for the car
I know it won't arrive.
Like the cat sitting in the window, waiting,
I love you from afar.
Ah, how long the days without you!
How tedious the work, I moan.
Sometimes I stop and think, and realize,
I'm married, yet I am alone.
Another star for the ceiling; Partnerless during each Hambo, At our age our parents had homes and children. I put a candle in the window May 3, 1994
Another run for the phone,
To talk to you for maybe five minutes,
--And here I am, alone.
(continued) Page Twenty-one / Page Nineteen / Back to Top / Bottom and links
Page Twenty-one
Comfortless in our bed,
I try to sleep, but the empty spot
Won't let me rest my head.
They lived with hope and trust.
We work so hard to help the others,
When will someone else help us?
For my wandering boy.
I wait and hope, saying a prayer
Until he returns in joy.
Page Twenty-two / Page Twenty / Back to top / Bottom and links
Page Twenty-two
August 10, 1996
Page Twenty-three / Page Twenty-one / Back to top / Bottom and links
Page Twenty-three
I don't care about golden rings,
Or a golden harp, or golden crowns,
Or big white wings,
All I want is a foot in the door.
I don't care about where I sit,
Being first or last, or the middle place--
Wherever I'll fit.
All I want is a foot in the door.
Page Twenty-four (continued) / Page Twenty-two / Back to top / Bottom and links I don't care what cloud I'm on, Lord, I just want to be with you, December 25, 2003 (Christmas) Page Twenty-Five (bottom, and links) / Page Twenty-three / Back to top Credit where credit is due Department: Most of this stuff is my old poetry, from a book of unpublished poetry I named Damp Earth and Deep Sky. All additions to the old book were after 1977.
A few words of explanation might help, I think. For David was written on the night my little brother, David, drowned in a small lake down the road from us. As you can probably tell, my little sister and I still miss him, even after all those years. John, for instance, was written while my husband was in South San Francisco taking care of his parents, who were beginning to lose it with Alzheimer's. If you add all the years up, we cared for them for eleven years. In case you wondered, the Hambo is a dance done by couples in Sweden. As far as I know, it's the Swedish national dance. John and I met while folk dancing in Arcata, California. We married in 1981 after years of dancing together. We're still happily married, and we still dance together. Some explanation should probably be given for The Clown Song. Wade, John's father, told him when he was small that clowns had to sleep out in the street on rainy nights, so we should be careful when we drive so we don't run over any of them. I put music to this, and sang it for Wade, to his delight.
Page Twenty-four
If I get a hut or a mansion large,
With a lawn.
All I want is a foot in the door.
I don't care where I stand,
If you're in view,
All I want is a foot in the door.
Page Twenty-five
This page updated on 2/25/2009
