So it’s Christmas break for me and I will try to find some blank canvases (coffee cups) to work on, but Starbucks is making it difficult with their holiday designs. However, I have not been idle. I made a book, per request of my mother.
Driving in the Rain
Break-lights paint leopard spots on my windshield, and a fog rolls through this jungle.
I sit in wait for my prey.
The light switches to green.
.
The Flattery of Shadows When in Unusual States
So I know I’ve been a bit bad about posting, but it’s finals week! I have rarely ventured out from behind the computer. Alas, here is a new poem by D.P. with a little spice from Virginia Woolf and Natalie Goldberg.
Soundbites of Songbirds
What a Lark! What A Plunge!
she said, diving
into the depths of absurdity
and coming up for air
to breath in the clarity
of uncertainty
before she goes to seek her eternity.
Is it any wonder, the wonders
she finds while charting
the heart
the center
the truth of life.
What a lark! What a plunge!
She says as she dove
once again,
into the world of absurdity.
Inhaling steam,
I reach for the cup of hot brown,
swirls of honey, melted into my senses.
It wakes the cold in my soul
and softens the brisk bite of winter.
Notes of herbs and riches
slip into the cracks
and corners of my mind,
long frozen by want
for my perfect companion,
now held tight by shivering hands.
The warmth opens my day,
while looking out on snow tipped windows,
and closes it with a good book.
The Earl knows his way to a woman’s heart.
Today marks the beginning of winter, for snowflakes were falling all during the day! I think now I can officially begin my Christmas anticipation. (First draft on the cup, so it’s a bit shaky as a poem) By D.P.
A Shiver in the Air
The first snowflakes
fell from the sky
in tiny flurries
hanging on the eyelashes
of today.
The earth’s small way
of powdering her nose
multi-colored lights
brush her eyelids
with a dancing shadow
sun streaks show the age
of her face.
She sighs and a shiver runs through the day
raising chilled bumps on the skin of the earth.
Winter is here to stay.
Considering the name of the tea I was drinking, and it’s spilt presence over this cup, which really is quite a wonderful dye, I named this poem after it. An original by D.P.
Passion
I live in all moments
for all things.
For the warm oatmeal I had for lunch
and the person whom I shared that meal with
for family
for the taste of fresh coffee
for Philadelphia and Texas
and for everything those things make me.
I live for winter,
the Sequoia shedding its summer skin
as sunset leaves drift off
to sleep, making fresh beds,
cold comfort, for seeking squirrels.
I live for connectedness,
the strings that pull us in all directions,
but stay woven to bodies, words.
For everything that is past and future,
and especially present.
I live in all moments
for all things.
Changing Seasons
Brisk air stretches its arms over the day
and yawns,
shaking the orange leaves,
newly turned kamikazes,
unbothered by the warmth leaking
from frosted windows
at dawn.
The world shuts its blinds
keeping winter out
as it wakes to fall.
I thought I’d inspire myself by picking an old photo as a prompt for today’s poem. It’s funny because my Mother’s outfit is probably something you could roughly find by perusing the Urban Outfitters website. Anyway, first draft on the cup which is why it switches gears with my train of thought.
Family Resemblance
 |
| My Model Mom |
It’s funny how fashions never really go away.
There is something modern
about the satchel bag hanging at her side,
the portrait necklace and earrings she wears,
the high waisted jeans and tucked in sweater.
That hat,
patched denim,
Gatsby styled cap,
is one she is fond of.
It hangs somewhere–
more likely is lost–
in the depths of her daughter’s closet.
A shadow of this picture,
her past.
When I put this hat on
I become her shadow,
her past,
her beauty,
her.
And that is what I most love
about this.
Seeing it echo in my mirror.
