Suburban Pastoral #1
Alchemy in the sun and blue
the grass and dew
my neighbor’s windchime
silent for once while another’s
lawn is turning into another coast
as the sprinkler dutifully
oscillates in morning meditation
Prompt 1, Hour 1: Almost
The sun rises and the dark clouds break apart in my mind.
My thoughts still.
I have escaped depression again.
I stand up straighter and give a shy smile.
Later anxiety takes over instead.
I look at my book of skills and choose one.
My breathing may be shaky,
but I’m not heavy.
Tears aren’t constantly waiting to fall.
I am almost free.
BETWEEN
I thought for a while
I wouldn’t be here today,
with so much in my empty mind
needing more sleep than talk,
but then a little bird broke
its beak on my window,
jarring me awake, believing
the hawthorn will bloom again
next year, and thus, in memory
of all the springs I’ve known,
all the poppies broken out
of their porcelain shells
I think I’ll try again,
between the dishes and shirts,
persistent specks of dust,
and all who hate me,
to push my words out,
the way cherries swell in red,
and perhaps write some short
birdsongs for myself.
Halfway Down the Snack Aisle at Costco–Hour 1
My wife said
“See anything you can’t live without?”
I said “You”
A man pushing his cart
glanced back and said “That’s a good answer”
Hour One-Its a Poem
Congratulations
Its a poem
24 of them actually
Its a time for words
Phrases
Tumble down terror
I shall write
I shall eat
I shall poet
I shall bring these little snippets
Into the world
This cold harsh world
I shall pull it out
I shall put it down
I shall offer it up
I will slap it silly
Slimy, brilliant
Bold and brittle
Congratulations
Its a poem
23 more to go
Excited to Begin Again
Here we are, June 26th, 2021!! Time to start and tech monsters already showing up. No matter, we forge ahead. My name is Kathleen Kidder, although I use Katie, Kat, or Kathy online. May it inspire us, refresh us, and deepen our perspective on the world we now live in. Best wishes to all.
Hour One…..
I find myself,
watching….the clock….the door….
listening…for a heartbeat…a breath….
but the silence is defening…
the memory of life, fades
joy, slips from my fingers
love flits
hunger moans,
and in another world you hold loves cold hand.
So Small
(for hour 1—something ending)
So Small
Too fragile
Too soon
Softness without structure enough
With hollow hope
With imperfect sigh
Too small
To inflict such sorrow
Priming the Pump
There once was a man from Nantucket
His roses were red, his violets were blue
He went up the hill to fetch a pail of water
And everywhere he went: lambs followed
He had a great fall
He had a great summer
But when he fell off the wall
That was a huge bummer
Poor Yorick!
Like Dreams on Earth
With every passing second
And racing of the clock
I take a quick leak at the back of the house.
Into my bed, I jump once again.
I’m so tired of counting sheep;
And every passing look is caught by abstract images
Scaring me into an eye shut.
Left turn to
Right turn into
The warmth of my own perspiration.
Like the blow to the soft spot of Goliath,
I take a hit from nothingness.
Next thing I realise, are my eyes
Plagued by a bright light.
It was night two seconds ago.
Where am I now?