Category: Poetry
Sometimes, the words just pour and you need to grab some paper to mop it up before others drown in the overflow…
Poetry: NaPoWriMo2021 Poem #04
New format this year. I am writing the thought jumble and then refining it, Distilling it down to a small poem. Verbiage Distillation.
Poetry! Cosmic Detention or Contemplating the Universe Beneath a Dark Sky. And No, I’m Not High
Cosmic Detention or Contemplating the Universe Beneath a Dark Sky. And No, I’m Not High
Maybe-
the reason we haven’t had a recent visit from extraterrestrials
is because we just aren’t ready for them.
Maybe
this planet is a giant playpen
with high sides on our technology
so we won’t climb out
and stick our fingers
into the
Socket Of Creation
and break it
Maybe
we need a few more millenia
to winnow out our aggression
and our massive egos
before the Galactic Babysitters
will consider taking us
on a deep space field trip
Maybe
they already left behind
a whole lot of evidence of their earlier visits-
You know,
before humanity grew into
an out of control
raging
hormonal cluster of adolescents
who perpetuate the myths
that only males should rule the planet
and colors should be sorted into
keep
and
discard piles-
and myths like animals are food
and that one group’s religious superhero
could beat up another groups religious superhero
Maybe
many light years out
there’s a perimeter warning that reads:
RESTRICTED AREA;
INHABITANTS CANNOT BE TRUSTED TO MAKE GOOD CHOICES
They’re right you know.
We aren’t ready
So here we sit
drumming fingers on our desks
waiting for the door to open
that let’s us out of Cosmic Detention
Poetry Day: My Full Moon Face
My Full Moon Face
you think you know me
because you can stand in a certain spot
on a particular day
at a specific time of night
and,
if the sky is clear
you can find me shining again
at a determined declination
and right ascension
you think you know me because
a few times each year
you can see
my full moon face
you think you know me
because you’ve studied what I’m made of
and ascertained the orbit of my life
In truth
you’ve observed
the least of me
and then, only for fleeting moments
on occasional sightings
the rest of me
that’s always
hidden from your view
is the most of me
you think you know me-
you don’t know
what I get up to
in the collective
of the immeasurable
dark sky
The Dark Sky Poetry Project
Our labor of love- a video poetry event we call, The Dark Sky Poetry Project.
We made this video to offer a way for local poets to be a part of a weeklong celebration of dark sky events at the Northport Arts Association, in Northport , Michigan that included a fantastic gallery exhibit (with social distancing and masks in place!) There was a night of music about the stars, a lecture by Mary Stuart Adams and a dark sky photography workshop given by nature photographer, Sheen Watkins at the tiny Woolsey Airfield here at the top of the Leelanau Peninsula in Michigan. It’s been a magical week as our night sky not only dazzled us with clear skies and a billion stars, the Aurora Borealis decided to show her face and the Neowise comet did a photobomb.
Here’s Sheen’s luckiest photo ever from Cathead Bay on Lake Michigan from June 13, 2020. 
Northport Arts Association: NAA
Poetry Day: Monarch
Monarch
Dirty hands in the garden
Flowers in their places- just so.
Ready now for Monarchs
as they make their way north from Mexico.
Time and money and work
to get it right and make it welcoming
for these elusive visitors.
A few weeks on-
flowering nicely
alone.
Wandering back to the barn
along the edge of the woods
where wild things grow
stood dozens of milkweed plants
sharing their heady fragrance
with the bees and monarchs
who were busy with their work.
Strange, just then, to think of me at 25.
Remembering the time and money and work
to make myself a garden
for a monarch
and in the end of that-
it wasn’t about the shine and the slope,
the curves and the tightness
the tone or the petal covering-
The monarch settled happily
On a wild familiar flower
We could learn much from
accepting what the monarch wants.
Poetry Day: The Best Perfume
The Best Perfume
If they could bottle
the perfect perfume
of the yard
on this July night-
it would be the only thing I’d wear.
Honeysuckle and milkweed chase
nicotiana
as they run on the air
to greet me.
And as I round the corner
petunias, lavender and geranium
rise to dance with fragrant pine.
Parisian perfumers come close
in their white laboratories.
But they miss the notes of ozone
heralding a sun shower approaching
and the whiff of fresh cut grass
arriving from the neighbor’s lawn.
And the subtle musk of wildlife that
crossed in early morning as they stole
the bright flower heads for breakfast.
A thousand unseen elements
create this custom blend-
the pure essence of summer.
NaPoWriMo2020 Poem #29 of 30: The Gates
The Gates
I knew
the moment
I pushed through those gates
that the life I had
could never be again
there is no turning back
when you’ve burned your past
and you’re carrying
all your worldly goods
in the hollow
of your broken heart
Word Ninja Girl 