Sunday, June 30, 2013

A poem brought forward from 2009

Standing at the Edge

Standing at the edge
where I can no longer walk with dry feet
watching the bands of tiny waves roll in over the sandspit
reclaiming it into part of the lake, if only an inch deep
Thinking about the story you told

Your friend standing at the edge
of the highway
watching trucks roll by in rapid succesion
ready to step
beyond the boundaries
considering
what I would deem unthinkable

I stand mesmerized by the water
the changing patterns,
life moving ever on
wondering
at the struggle, the emptiness
of those who could think their life forfeitable
who could think they had that choice
not to stay

Radha

Another Winter Poem

Crow Wings

a steep hillside in the woods
air hangs chill and still
silence
broken by sound of wings
beating air in steady rhythm
flying straight between trees
two crows on a mission
draw me in...
another world beckons

Radha

Slam Pieces

For me performance poetry is a new and exciting concept. It is different than my other poetry. The two pieces that follow are the ones I did at my first Slam, back in February.  The rant I had by heart, the one on death I read. I am working on two more performance poems now. The words in bold are to help you read it somewhat as I would have said it.



The Rant I Want

I want to walk arm in arm with you by the river in the autumn leaves
I want to walk arm in arm with you
I want you by the river
I want you in the autumn leaves
I want a different year without disappointment
I want a different year
I want a difference
I want to scale your mountain of priorities and stand on top
I want to scale the mountain
I want new priorities
I want to stand on top
I want love to win over practicalities
I want to overcome the practicalities
I want love to win
I want love
I want you to love me more
I want to love you more
I want you to love me enough to come here where I am alone
I want you to love me enough
I want to love you enough to understand
I want to understand
I want you to understand
I want you to come here
where I am alone by the river
I want you to come here to my mountains
I want you to come
I want you

Radha

introduction: This is what happens in a romance where a long separation has just got longer.
Frustration and anger mount Neediness is the end result


Another Death

Another death on the hospital ward.
Death is part of life. It's part of the job.
No attachment. Professional detachment.
But how do you detach a heart ?

This one died quietly and alone.
The curtains are pulled.
Loved ones have been called.
I ask to know when they arrive, so they don't go in alone.
But work carries on just down the hall. The clock ticks on.

What I don't understand is how the world keeps going
The world should stop – at least for a moment
We need time – time for respect
A being has died, departed, gone ... from this world.
No moment of silence or celebration of life
at least not now.

The clock ticks on. Work carries on.

No prayers, No remembrance, No last respects
Just a body to move.
An empty bed on my team is what it will mean.
A new client there by the end of my shift.
No sign to say ... Somebody died here today
I feel his presence remaining in the room
I talk to his lifeless body
I talk to Him
of his courage in these last days, of his character, of the rest he has earned..
We move him gently zipped in a bag marked with his name.


A cider a day can't hurt, I reason,
but it might be a 2 cider night tonight, after THAT day.
She was only my age and the look of pain in her partners eyes, I'll never forget
his incomprehension of what to do next

A crack in my heart to join other cracks.
What of MY heart? How much more can I take?

Even so ,I am there to help the next family through.
They stand stiff and awkward in the room.
Their mother lies dying , beyond them now.
A raspy breath No voice
Eyes closed, focussed far off.
Put down the siderail I say, sit close, hold her hand.
Say what you need to. Hearing is last to go.

But I need to leave them.

The clock ticks on. Work carries on

Radha





April at the Ranch - 2 poems

The Renegade

A different bird calls from the wood edge
A woodpecker hammers away
at the hard bark of centuries
working against the grain
slow headway, one task at a time

I search for your lips in wiry mustache
hair wild from the night
strands of your beard defy convention
shoot off in their own direction

Rubber boots slog confidently
through the marsh
My steps tentative
on unseen uneven ground
water seeps up and outward
I struggle to pass tests
easy for your wayward soul

Seeds cling to my purple pants
My camera seeks elusive cranes
The pond floods over its banks;
raw beauty, emotion uncontained
The water finds its way
back to the creek

Radha


Two Lives

Two lives hold me

Here on your land
I leave behind
the details, connections, involvements
the choices I have made
to which I must return

Here the land claims me
calls me to wander
to follow the primal bugle
of the sandhill crane
quickening in my heart

Great flocks of geese
cross the vast grey sky
hawks circle gracefully

Breath comes easy and peacefull
Holding your strong hand

Radha