December Rhymes With Remember, songified

Here's the last poem I wrote, "December Rhymes With Remember," turned into a song.

December Rhymes with Remember

December rhymes with remember.
I remember liking the snow
and loving the feeling of sugar highs reeling
and dancing to Mannheim on the stereo.

Christmas pretty much rhymes with wish lists
for new stuff and happy days of yore.
But I'm sure my first year I just wanted mom near.
My wish list was love and not much more.

I can't make Christmas feel like Christmas.
I might have to feel like a child.
But I'm all grown up and sometimes I feel down.
Like when all of the carols rhyme child with mild.

Maybe Mary felt down sometimes,
whether or not she was mild.
She had some stress and some things on her chest
that she'd have to ponder awhile.

The wise men who brought Jesus three gifts
weren't wishing to go back in time.
Nostalgia lay dead when they turned their heads,
a new life, a new king to find.

And Jesus, he was just a baby.
He didn't look back, just above.
If we look back far enough, to what's newer than stuff,
like that baby, our list will be love.

Snow Day

I am having a snow day,
a just-say-no day,
a stop-with-the-go-go-go day.

Red

It had been there all along,
just below the surface,
making every corner strong,
running round in circles.

But she nearly fainted at the site of her own blood.
It had always been red, but in her head, it just felt like a deep breath.
But then it came out from that fresh-pricked spout,
and it scared her half to death.

Moving Song

(written last year when we were about to move back from Bogotá)

When I move to each new place,
I already know every friend I make
will just be a facebook friend someday.
We might not Skype, although we may.

When I pack up my bags and go
I'll leave the ones I've come to know.
We'll say we'll see each other, oh,
but we both know it's rarely so.

There are friends and those I've friended.
There are friends and friendships ended.
Every hand that is extended
will one day wave goodbye.
There are times when closeness feeds us,
then there's space that comes between us.
I don't know quite what this means, just
that I'll have to try
to open up again,
to see change as a friend,
a friend I doubt I'll ever say goodbye to.
If I ever settle down,
I bet you'll still be moving around.
At least I'll have a place to invite you.

So if I'm slow to call you friend
I don't suggest you take offense.
My heart is full of untied ends
and space I keep for keeping friends.

Or if we meet after we part
I might not know quite how to start.
Small talk's an acquired art
and I'm scared to have a heart-to-heart.

There are friends and those I've friended.
There are friends and friendships ended.
Every hand that is extended
will one day wave goodbye.
There are times when closeness feeds us,
then there's space that comes between us.
I don't know quite what this means, just
that I'll have to try
to open up again,
to see change as a friend,
a friend I doubt I'll ever say goodbye to.
If I ever settle down,
I bet you'll still be moving around.
At least I'll have a place to invite you.

When I move to each new place,
I already know every friend I make
will just be a facebook friend someday.
We might not Skype, although we may.

Give and Take For Heaven's Sake

How blessed I am to give,
how wonderful you can take.
I'm just glad someone can use
these things for heaven's sake.

Fragile (Song)

My most recent poem, Fragile, keeps coming to my mind, as do the events that the poem is based on. So I set the poem to music:

Fragile

You had fallen down the stairs before,
my rough and tumble child.
And you got up to play some more.
You only had a little while.
I have brushed tears off your cheeks
and gravel from your knees.
But all our strength is still too weak
for this day's injury.

Aren't we all so fragile?
How fast we fall,
how carefully we must be handled.
How much we can take,
how suddenly we break…
Oh, how it aches to be this fragile.

You had fallen out of bounds before
with your rough and tumble heart.
But it wouldn't happen again, you swore.
When you felt that burning spark,
you brushed it off as quick as tears
so that you would be fine.
But all our strength is still too weak
to keep our strength in line.

Aren't we all so fragile?
How fast we fall,
how carefully we must be handled.
How much we can take,
how suddenly we break…
Oh, how it aches to be this fragile.

Oh God, take the pressure inside.
I am made of glass. I have no place to hide.
Can I ask, why did you make me so fragile?
Is that something you can handle?

Aren't we all so fragile?
How fast we fall,
how carefully we must be handled.
How much we can take,
how suddenly we break…
Oh, how it aches to be this fragile.

Burst

Maybe it's the music I put on tonight.
The angle of the chords must be hitting just right.
I feel my heart is going to burst.
If it happens this time, it won't be first.

Move Again

Move again?
I can handle that.
That's why I always
wear my hat.

Thoughts

The days that are great only serve to confuse me on the days that are not.
I spend all my time trying to find out why I don't always feel so hot.
Maybe I just spend too much time with my thoughts.

One Man's Treasure

One man's treasure
is another man's trash.
And what you call "things"
could be "stuff" or "crap."
And one man's crap
is another man's…
it all depends what you
want to call it.

How to Write a Poem

It Would Have Been Easy

If I could have only seen
exactly what this year would bring
this would have been easy.
I could have locked myself behind a door
and written every poem beforehand.
It would have been easy.

But this hasn't been easy.
Have you seen how fast time passes?
And so now we have these glasses
but we still don't see twenty-twenty.
No, this hasn't been easy,
A year ago today
I sat just twenty paces away.
So I might not have gone far, but I have plenty.

If I could have known
what I would feel inside each poem
it would have been easy.
It would have felt more like a ride
and less like a black diamond
and it would have been easy.

If I had written every poem this past year
to publish them in the coming one,
I could have spaced them all out perfectly
but they never would have gotten done.
It would be just another idea I had
that never went either well or bad,
but only stale like a passing fad.
But it would have been easy.

And what if I had said "Enough!
Does anyone even read this stuff?"
It would have been easy.
But I had things to write about
just to breathe and get them out
because it wasn't easy.

No, this hasn't been easy.
Have you seen how fast time passes?
And so now we have these glasses
but we still don't see twenty-twenty.
No, this hasn't been easy,
A year ago today
I sat just twenty paces away.
So I might not have gone far, but I've done plenty.

Each

I will pick the pears, for you're too small too reach.
And you shall test the pears. Just take a bite of each.

Thoughts on a Popular Poem

Repeat

Until that lunch when we broke out some MREs
you had never told me all those memories.
There are years you'd probably never even think about
if they weren't arranged in layers in the closets of this house.
And I never really realized just how far my poems go back,
but there were quite a few scattered through that schoolwork stack.
The smell of drying leaves and dryer sheets
brings me back to university.
And then there's all the warmth and chill I can remember
when I hear the song I played on repeat last November.

Creative

I tell my husband my ideas; some are smart, some just wild.
He says "Don't quit your day job!" as he smiles at our child,
and "Go for it! You're home, so what are you afraid of?"
I get to be a mom and I get to be a creative.

To Do Right

He had dreams, and not just at night,
and he also knew what he had to do.
And he knew he'd have to sacrifice,
either way that he would choose.
And in the end he chose to do right
and lay his dreams aside.

But it wasn't the end;
it was only for a time.
Now he's dreaming again
but he still has to decide
how to do right.

Caught Up

If you never know what it's like

to be caught up,

to cross off your whole list,

to have nothing left to do,

then at least

let yourself by caught up in love.

The Truth

I don't want to hear what I want to hear.
I'm not okay with "everything's fine."
I want to know the truth.
When you say "don't worry" I'm worried.
I know we can't all have our way all the time.
I want to know the truth.

I'm strong enough to hear the truth,
and if I'm not than I'll lean on you,
because I'll know you're brave
if you're strong enough to say it.

Your Day

Your grandparents are in town
Your hoping gravity will pull down
all the wrinkles from your graduation gown
in time for your speech tonight.

And regardless of how long you've known this day was on its way,
you still cannot believe that its today.
Your heart is beating harder than it has in a long time
and you know today is your day to shine.

All your friends are here
and your mom can't hold her tears.
The ceremony is drawing near
and you wonder what your love is thinking now.

And regardless of how long you've known this day was on its way,
you still cannot believe that its today.
Your heart is beating harder than it has in a long time
and you know today is your day to shine.

Some might call this pressure, but it's pain.
You rock back and forth like you're insane
and your husband says the doctor's on his way
and that you're doing great.

And regardless of how long you've known this day was on its way,
you still cannot believe that its today.
Your heart is beating harder than it has in a long time
and you know today is your day to shine.

Months of pain up to your chest.
You know you've given it your best.
And you're sure it's time to rest,
but what will it feel like?

And regardless of how long you've known this day was on its way,
you still cannot believe that its today.
Your heart is beating harder than it has in a long time
and you know today is your day to shine.

Good One, Goodell

Pressing

With buckets of apples beginning to stack up,
the need to process them becomes pressing.
Freezing and thawing and mashing and pressing
that is, and then some clean-up-the-messing.

First Things First

There are corners to be cleaned
and pages to be seen,
fruit to be pressed
and a desk that is a mess.

But you can't sing your own song
until you write your own poem.
That's just the way it goes;
first things first.

There are high notes and low,
fast beats and slow,
so many people to please,
and a tremor in my knees.

But you can't sing your own song
until you write your own poem.
That's just the way it goes;
first things first.

Noon

I think she will be waking soon,
seeing as it's almost noon.

Everything

I love the smell of fall almost as much as spring.
But in the spring there's asparagus and rhubarb,
and in the fall there's everything!

Wow

Your first word was "wow!"
Let's keep that going somehow.

Back

Our internet is back
and faster than before.
This thing could change your life.
But it cannot give you more.

Under Pressure

Let the pressure build,
let the pressure build,
let the pressure build!
I do my best work
under pressure.

Plan out what you would say if you only had the chance,
then waste your only chance.
And tell your self that no one ever listens,
no one ever listens to your silent rants.

Let the pressure build,
let the pressure build,
let the pressure build!
I do my best work
under pressure.

Make a list and check it zero times
until the day that everything is due.
And stay busy enough all that time before
to convince yourself that they did this to you.

Let the pressure build,
let the pressure build,
let the pressure build!
I do my best work
under pressure.

Scatter all your clothes across the floor
and stack all of your dishes in the sink
and christen it a cosmic cleaning party
when you finally clean it up so you can think.

Let the pressure build,
let the pressure build,
let the pressure build!
I do my best work
under pressure.

Find thirty books that you would like to read
and check them out yourself all at one time
and read them while you listen to an audiobook
like it's a race to fill up your whole mind.

Let the pressure build,
let the pressure build,
let the pressure build!
I do my best work
under pressure.

And someday take a break and just sit down

and think about how life has been so crazy.

And realize this has only been a warm-up

and now it's time to really be amazing.

Let the pressure build,
let the pressure build,
let the pressure build!
I do my best work
under pressure.

Thrown Out

Rice and Beans

Even rice and beans aren't free,
and neither one grows on trees.

Mess

What About Ourselves

We make our homes beautiful
to sell them.
And what about ourselves?

Made It Happen

Thank you for coming and making me stick with it to the end.
Maybe I did it, but without you it wouldn't have happened.
Come anytime, yes, please come again.

Surprise

When you wake up in the morning with a list of things to do,
and a sleepy-headed husband says that there's a gift for you,
and that it's bigger than a breadbox and that it is upstairs,
and you look but cannot find an item waiting anywhere,
but you go outside to check if he forgot it in the car,
and you find a different car where you thought that you had parked…
well then jump up and down and turn around and quick run back inside
and run to the guest room and find your sleeping sister! That's a great surprise!

Procrastinator

There are some things on your list that you should just do "later."
And by the time you get to them, they'll be unnecessary.
And that's one of the benefits of being a procrastinator.
It's amazing what can happen while you tarry.

Hollow

I'll hide you in my bosom

like an owl in a hollow,

and you will find it full and warm

with sustenance to swallow.

Feast Tonight

If the food in the freezer flooded into the fridge
so the fridge food fled to the countertop,
let itself by diced and chopped,
then chose the frying pan over the fire,
there'd be a feast tonight.

Cover

I could waste my time
thinking it's all mine,
writing my own rhymes,
thinking they're so fine,
thinking I'm so cool
making my own rules
teaching my own school
of thought, like I'm not
just using the same words
everyone has heard
plowing the same dirt,
feeding the same birds,
surprised that nothing grows.
Don't I know
half of this is just for show?
How does the story go?
Oh, yeah: everyone dies,
maybe loved ones cries,
we dry off our own eyes
because it's not really a surprise.
At least we died wise
or at least we tried
but what's left of our lives?
A song of sacrifice
is the one (the one!) we won't forget,
the one that lasting life begets,
and so I'm going to cover it,
yes, that's the song I'll be.
Cover it true, cover it new,
the best cover I can do,
and still I'll need You,
your sacrifice to cover me.

But That's Not What I Said

Why are you getting all defensive

You think that I'm on the offensive.

But that's not what I said.

You think that I am blaming you

that all our weekend plans fell through.

But that's not what I said.

You think that I don't like to wait

and that I think you're kinda late.

But that's not what I said.

You 'pologize for what you wear,

assume that I don't like your hair,

but that's not what I said.

There you go, do it by yourself,

you think that I don't want to help.

But that's not what I said.

And when I turn and walk away

you think I'm having a bad day.

But that's not what I said.

You think it's not my favorite date

when I don't touch what's on my plate.

But that's not what I said.

You say "Well here is the receipt,"

as if the gift is not that neat.

But that's not what I said.

It seems like you're always assuming.

You act like some big news is looming.

But that's not what I said.

Sometimes you look and sigh at me

like I won't ever let you be.

But that's not what I said.

You know that's not what I said,

and if my mind could be read,

oh you'd know, you know.

But that's not what I said.

Give Us Strength

To stay connected without being infected,

to stop being busy without getting bored,

to tell the truth and not forget mercy,

oh give us strength, dear Lord.

One Month To Go

One month to go, and it won't go slow.
I have lots of poems to write.
More than a month's worth, that I know.
Plus, they can't be trite.
Eleven months of ups and downs,
and I'm still writing here.
I might not have written a poem a day,
but I'll have three-sixty-five in a year.

Wasted

A husband buys his wife a gift,
something that she doesn't need,
something kind of frivolous.
The wife puts it in a good place
so when she needs it, it'll be safe.
So now it's lost. What a waste.
And who's the one who wasted?

My Sign

Hung on my neck, like a noose but loose,

is a sign that reads "I have no excuse.

Yet my life is still messy and my brain feels like toast. 

It's my own imperfection that drags me down most."

(In response to this great article.)

If No One Ever Reads This Poem

If no one ever reads this poem,
at least it's not on paper,
so it will cause no trees to fall in the forest.
But even so,
as I write,
there is a tree falling.
We just don't hear it.

Make Sense

It was all gonna make sense.
It was all gonna make sense.
It was all gonna make sense
when your answer was gonna be yes.

Miserable

Child of mine, some days you'll think
I made your life miserable so you wouldn't get hurt.
But I want you to know that as you grow
that's not always going to work.
Some days I'll protect you despite your best efforts
but you'll get hurt anyway.
And someday you'll do it to your very own heart.
Maybe you'll play it too safe.

9/11

About half of my life ago
I watched two towers fall
on TV screens in middle school.
I heard worry in the hall
and crying friends with family
on business trips that day.
And we all just wanted to know
if we would be okay.
And we were, to our surprise.
Not much changed for us.
Just one day class didn't happen
and they might have cancelled the bus.
And life went on with news of war
but we hardly understood.
And we got used to confusing news
and knowing less than we should.

Pay For My Past

Balancing the budget,
sorting out the costs,
looking for a way to make
more profits to each loss.

This would be so much easier if I didn't have to pay for my past.
Forgive me, please forgive me, I'd like to ask.

You told me so, you told me.
You knew it all along.
We know the pain I caused you.
I know I've done you wrong.

This would be so much easier if I didn't have to pay for my past.
Forgive me, please forgive me. That's all I ask.

I've wasted precious time,
been hasty with precious people,
and done some very stupid things,
though most of them were legal.

And it would be so much easier if I didn't have to pay for my past.
Forgive me, please forgive me. If you want to receive, just ask.

Mark My Words

Mark my words– with a red pen–
I know I can do better.
I'll be making changes.
For now please make this redder.

More Power

Somewhere, someone has a bigger home
and someone has a mattress with more high-tech foam
and someone wears rarer pearls round their neck,
and someone has more servants at their call and beck.
Somewhere, someone has a sweeter ride,
and someone has a safe box with more inside.
But no one can take a hotter shower,
and if they can, well, to them be more power.

Tight

If we could shove this warmth in our closets
because we know we'll need it in the coming months,
we'd pack it in so tight
the molecules would arrange themselves like ice,
and when we finally got it out, it would be worthless.

Pray the Lord

Now I nurse you down to sleep,
I pray the Lord to make you keep
sleeping for at least an hour
because I know He has that power.
But I may find, that even still,
in this He grants you your own will.

My Brain

My brain can fly,
but it often flits.
And when it runs,
it skips and trips.

Make Up Your Head

The decisions you have to make today–
if you could, what would you pay
to have someone to make them for you?
You can get a maid to make your bed,
but they can not make up your head,
so that is something you will have to do.

Pain

I guess the good thing about feeling this way,
is that I know how you hurt and so I can relate.
But, there's that good thing, so it's not the same.
For you, there's no point of pain day after day.

If I Were You

"If I were you, life would be always be easy,"
says the back of our minds to the girl in the shot.
And then we go back to living our own lives,
surprised and confused on the days that it's not.

Know

Thank you for saying that you don't know.
That's almost all that I needed to know.
It's as important as knowing the answer– you know?

Pleasantly Surprised

Pleasantly surprised to find
that you turned out to be someone
that I could agree to disagree with,
and that we could agree to disagree together.
What are the chances that
the tornado of life that came
between childhood and now
would pick us both up and set us both down
in the same different place,
sitting across the table from each other,
sipping coffee and talking on the level.

My Soul Has Room to Grow

Funny how when I stretch my arms up in the air,
my soul has more room to grow.
This invisible thing near my chest and my brain
uses these cells to tell and to know.

Heaven Forbid

Heaven forbid we share and feed.
People will think we're a charity.
Heaven forbid that word get out.
People will think that's what we're about.

Heaven forbid we give food away.
People might come, and then they might stay.
And helping them out would be really tough.
Even if they did tithe, it wouldn't be much.

Heaven forbid we go too far
If we open our hearts, while the door's ajar
a hundred people could walk in,
each with their issues, their needs and their sin.

Heaven forbid we give too much.
People would take advantage of us.
They'd always keep asking for more, more, more.
We might not have that much love in store.


When God lived as a human being,
word got out that he made the lame walk,
he fed the hungry, gave sight to the blind,
and people came to hear him talk.
But he didn't want people to say who he was
until he was just about ready to die.
You and I, at this church, are we ready to die?
If not, maybe we should go take down our sign.

Nice Things

Would you rather have nice things or good days?
Would you rather get along or get a raise?
I look around and I'm always amazed
how our lives pass so fast. When they end the stuff stays.

Bringing Home the Bacon

Bringing home the bacon
can be heavier than it sizzles up to be.
I'm glad that it's not up to me.

Many Places Like Home

They say there's no place like home.
But I've found many places that are like home.
I just haven't found the place that is home.

Using Me

This kind of treatment
has got to stop.
It's not fair.
You're only using me
on your climb to the top
(of the chair).

The Worst Feeling Of All

When you feel worse when you thought you'd feel better–
that's the worst feeling of all.
It's when you close your eyes, spread your arms to fly,
that you can't break your own fall.

You'll Be Sorry

Being angry won't make you sorry,
so I'm done being angry now.
And when you're sorry, you'll be sorry,
and I will kill the fattened cow.

When I Lose All Hope In Humanity

When I lose all hope in humanity,
I'm glad I'm not a humanist.
Because then I'd be losing my religion,
and that would be a big decision.
When I lose all hope in humanity,
I feel more human and humanitarian.
Humans are stupid and they'll prove that it's true.
But I know who I am and what I've got to do.

If a Few More People Volunteered

There are so many people in this world,
and so many choosing to have hope
that if we got ourselves into this mess
then we can get ourselves out of it.
And they want to believe that
there are plenty of ways out of it.
To each his or her own.
All roads lead home.
And I'd be willing to believe that, too,
if a few more people volunteered
to live a spotless life
and then to die to give it away.

Monogamously

To have and to hold,
which means just for me!
I love being married
monogamously.

I Eat Alone

Since you're not home, I eat alone.
I multi-task (no time to waste!)
and miss out on how my food tastes.

Teach

Do we indoctrinate? Or preach?

Or just empower, guide, and reach?

And do we brainwash when we teach?

If so, then should we end all speech?

To Make You Get Your Story Straight

There is nothing like your very own child to make you get your story straight.
Those questions towards the base of your brain awake when they would rather wait.
The whole world asks these questions, clamoring to make their answers known.
And suddenly you have to answer when they're asked by one you call your own.

Scratching Our Heads

We'll plan our every move while lying in our beds
and find that we are still taken by storm.
Change will come; it seldom warns,
and we'll all be left scratching our heads.

Inert

The weeds grew while we were gone.
They knew it was their chance.
And apples started dropping–
those got eaten at by ants.
But the work that we were doing
with the rocks mixed in the dirt,
was still sitting there, very still,
being stubborn and inert.

Back

Once again, we're back.
Time to rest, unpack,
and tell myself, once again,
not to get too settled in.

In Lieu of Flowers

In lieu of flowers,
plant vegetables,
and then you'll keep
your table full,
and you'll still die,
just not as soon,
and we'll plant flowers
by your tomb.

She Is Sleeping

There she is, so fast asleep.
Her arms are limp, her head sunk deep
upon the sheets. So let us keep
the lights down low. Don't make a peep.
Just catch your breath and let her sleep.

Peace

When the river is not peaceful
because it's full and steep
we still trust that the ocean
will catch us, hug us deep,
and give our souls a Sabbath
to ride the waves and sleep.

Different Nations

Dear cousin who I haven't seen,
we've moved up a generation.
We've often lived so far apart–
for years in different nations.
But now that you're a doctor
and now that I'm a mom,
you'd think that one of us had moved
to Greece or Vietnam.
And not because our jobs are different
(although they really are)
but because our lives are both so full.
That's what makes our nearness far.

A Breath of Fresh Air

Some people feel that
water is boring,
a blank page is numbing,
and these white plates are too plain.
But have they ever felt that way about a breath of fresh air?

Living Casserole

When I am getting hungry,
even though I just, just ate,
I'd like some living casserole
to heap upon my plate.
And would that end my munchies?
Or would that make me yearn
for the work of God to do,
and still more calories to burn.

Far

Writing poems in the car
makes each line go far.

I Hate Nostalgia

Have I ever told you about how I hate nostalgia?
When I was a kid, everyone just focused on what was happening that day,
but right about the time I got to high school, everyone started talking about
how bad everything was getting,
and "this nation" this and "this nation" that.
It made me feel like I was about to enter the world
at the worst it had ever been.
It made me want to not grow up or bring children into this worst-ever world.
Because what would I tell them? About how it used to be better?
That's why I wish it was like when I was a kid,
when everyone just focused on what was happening that day.
I hate nostalgia.

Pictures in a Box

We found your pictures in a box.
After all, they were not lost.
Your bright red hair, your sweater vest–
it seems you saved your smile best.

Those You Forget

Those are the days you forget:

when you wake up and check what the rest of the world is doing

(the ones in the world that have a way to tell you),

then proceed to do what you need to do:

wash the clothes you'll need to wear,

cook the food you'll need to eat.

And those days we forget

keep us from going disheveled and hungry on the days we remember.

So lets not forget those who cannot remember

a day when they were well clothed and well fed.

For What It's Worth

"For what it's worth." What is it worth?
Think of today like a baby's birth
and when your baby marriage screams
when it should be cute and have sweet dreams,
just hold it like a tiny child
and don't let go. The ride is wild,
your fists will clench around your pride,
but let it go. Be groom and bride.
Your marriage will become your life
since that's how long you're man and wife.
This marriage will have a life of it's own,
as it comes to your lives as a babe to a home.
So care for it, swaddle it, teach it, and feed it.
Bring it to the doctor if it ever needs it.
And love your love's whole life on earth,
because that's what your marriage is worth.

But

Flying past the Super 8,
where we could stop if we were late,
but we aren't so, so we keep going,
but we could stop if it were snowing,
but the weather's actually hot,
but we could stop if it were not.

Enough Is Enough

We spend so much time working
to pay for things to take up the time we are not working.
In the free time we buy, we shop, we sort, we fix, we clean,
we use, we move, we dispose of, and finally we scream,
"Enough is enough!
Let's stop with the stuff!
Let's work for what's needed
and live just to love!"

Beating Eggs

My arm, my arm!
What's done me harm
is a lack of electric mixer.
I guess that I have quite the knack
for beating eggs,
but I could go quicker.

Uh-Oh

You can only say "uh-oh" if it was a mistake.
Tell that to my child as I mop up this lake.

There's a Color You've Never Seen

There's a color you've never seen
somewhere hiding in between
turquoise, tangerine, chartreuse,
burnt sienna, pink and puce.
This hue, it's true, has eluded for ages
artists, smartests, chefs and sages,
but I finally found it while faring afar
and I'll sell it to you in this opaque jar.

Creature Comfort

I'm glad to know I'm not my own
and that you're not mine either.
I'm glad my creator keeps us as his.
This comfort's made me a believer.

When You Wake Up

When you wake up in the morning,
do you wish that either life was fun
or that you could go back to bed?
Or do you just do what needs to be done?

Slow

Sometimes I'm on a different time:
I'll leave when it's time to get there,
I'll get ready when it's time to go.
And while in one country that worked just fine,
here, it just makes me seem slow.

Real

Sometimes I am surprised by just how real

my baby is. Like– she knows how I feel!

Care

Did Jesus ever see something and just choose not to care?
I know that Jesus cared a lot, but the question's fair.
Because I'm sure he saw some grease or tangles in some hairs,
and although he could have numbered them, maybe he just didn't care.

Outnumbered

To be outnumbered

doesn't mean you're a victim.

Doesn't mean you're picked on,

although at times, you might be.

To be outnumbered

just means you're not the majority.

But if you've always practiced humility,

you'll be ready to act rightly.

I Will Not Start

I will not start another book
until I've finished this.
I will not blow the candles out
until I think my wish.
I will not cook another meal
with all these half-meals in the fridge.
But I will start another day
no matter what yesterday did.

I Hear That Train A'Coming

I hear that train a'coming,
it's rolling through the park,
and waking up neighbors
who sleep when it's dark,
and stopping some traffic,
and making cars wait.
But it's not the train's fault
if you're angry and late.

Some Times

What time do you wake in the morning? Exactly six a.m?
Or maybe six fourteen, after hitting the snooze button twice.
Or maybe about eleven, since you work until after two.
Or maybe after noon. Sometimes that would be nice.
But what about sometimes four, and sometimes more like nine?
It'd be nice to have a routine, but as long as I'm rested it's fine.

Themselves

Many would like to be younger,
and yet no one wants to be held back.
There are few who want to be weird,
but few who just want to blend in to the pack.
Lots of people would like to be funny,
but few who are ready to be laughed at.
There are seven billion people who can only be themselves
but relatively few who want to be that.

Apricot

I saw the apricot fall.
It hit the dirt with a thud.
Now it sits on the ground
with dirt all around,
but it tastes so much better than mud.

A Month From Now

A month from now, who knows what will be
as the future passes through the sieve of reality
and straight on to the past, where it can only make us wise.
All that I know is it will be a surprise.

Just To Get It Out

I would like to write a song
but nothing on my mind is worth singing about.
But I could sing it anyway
just to get it out.

Clear my mind of calculations
of who owes who and explanations,
Clear my mind of pros and cons and
spreadsheets they are written on
'cause I just want to write a song.

I would like to write a song
but nothing on my mind is worth singing about.
But I could sing it anyway
just to get it out.

Clear my mind of to-do lists,
wish lists, hit lists, things to get.
Clear my mind of goals and plans
… and clear my mind of who I am.

I would like to write a song.
Something in my mind is worth singing about.
I'm all humming inside.
Now just to get it out.

Slivered Almonds

How do they sliver almonds?
That's what I'd like to know.
Do they drop them from a tower
onto well-placed blades below?
Do they run them past a mandoline
with several sharpened bands?
Or do they sit there with a paring knife
making slivers in their hands?

I Am a Woman Full

I am a woman full of
agonizing empathy and
welling convictions,
and I don't know what to say or do.

If My Vagina Were a Gun

(In response to this poem by almost the same title)

If my vagina were a gun, how careful I would be,
knowing that it could mean life or death to somebody.
If my vagina were a gun, yes I'd treat it with care,
and carry it (concealed of course) with me everywhere.
If my vagina were a gun, I'd assume that it was armed
so I could keep it safe from children, and so they would not be harmed.
If my vagina were a gun, I would not lend it to just any man.
Still, there'd always be a risk that something would not go as planned.
And if my vagina were a gun, an accident could mean dead.
But the magic of vaginas is they're designed to bring life instead.

The Grass

The grass is only green when it rains.
If it's not going to rain, I'd rather have weeds.
Or a mix, just in case the weather decides
to do a little of each.

Seven Eleven

There are no Seven Elevens
in this vicinity
and so to use our gift card,
we have some friends to see.

Mount Rainier

There's a place that I hold dear,

and that place is Mount Rainier.

I haven't been there in three years.

I let out a sigh in lieu of tears.

Quite Quietly

If you don't have something nice to say,
don't say anything at all,
so we must live quite quietly
on earth after the fall.

Beautiful and Strong

Each woman that works
at the pet food store
weighs about two models,
quite possibly more.
She swings fifty pounds of chicken feed
like nothing to her shoulder.
I think "You're beautiful and strong!"
Maybe I should have just told her.

Nice Enough

People at church are nice enough.
They shake your hand and such and such,
they ask you, nicely, how you've been
and are so very thankful when
you sign up to help with something.
Plus sometimes there are cookies for munching.
But if I were looking for a group of friends
this is really not where my search would end.
But at church, God's word hits close to home,
and that is why we go to Shalom.

Stomping Grounds

You give new meaning to "stomping grounds"
about every other day,
and I always have to wonder
if you're here or away.

Talk to Me

Talk to me.
Tell me what's wrong,
and I promise I won't
come back with a song
about how it all
will all be fine.
I can't even say
it'll be better with time,
or work, or a smile,
or even days on your knees.
Because I don't know.
So talk to me please.

Celebrate Responsibility

Back home before the fireworks,
because I have a baby
and babies are not freedom.
Lets have fireworks on Labor Day and Mother's Day and Father's Day,
and maybe not so late at night,
to celebrate responsibility.

The Eve of Independence

On the eve of independence,
our hearts are clenched so tight.
With only one thing on our minds,
our souls are set to fight.

By Your Toil

Beans in the fields,
weeds in the beans.
God said, "by your toil"
and we feel what it means.
That nothing is perfect.
There's no magic fairy dust
or magic fairy spray
and so toil we must.
Some toil on foot,
pulling weeds with their hands.
Some toil their minds
to find a balm for this land.

It's There

If this is the lowest price,
then, by golly, we must pay it.
Just like every thought I think–
it's there and so I say it.

Picking Up My Own Slack

Picking up my own slack
is worse than that of someone else.
There's no superior feeling.
There's no pride if I were to tell
"Yeah, I didn't do it then,
so today I did it double."
No, there's just a nagging feeling
like I've gotten into trouble.

Monitor

"Why is my butt crying?"
I wondered in my head.
Then I remembered I wore the monitor
and the crying was in bed.

I Miss the Days

I miss the days that I remember.

I've missed the days when I forget.

Seems the only days I haven't missed

are the days that haven't happened yet.

Surprised

You fall, and you're surprised.
And we're surprised that you don't cry.
And I guess that you are wise
to choose not to cry without a why.

How do You Imagine Heaven?

How do you imagine heaven?
A desert nomad imagines green
and water flowing all around.
A relocated businessman imagines
a family reunion in a small town.
And I imagine something like
the big kitchen in the hostel in Lisboa,
where we're all laughing and talking and cooking together.

Get to Work

Let's get to work, 

remembering

we get  to work.

Attention Anthropologists

Immediate Availability

Attention anthropologists:

Great case-study material.

Will consider any offer.

Poster included.

Ode to Kitchens

A place to heat, a place to cool,
a place for goose or greens or gruel,
a place for kindness and for kin,
a place to start each day again
with coffee from the coffeepot.
A kitchen is a lovely spot.

Complicated

Life is complicated, eh?
There's not much else that I can say.

Summer Solstice

The longest day of the year.
The shortest night.
I think of those whose days are filled with fear,
their dark with fright,
so no matter where the earth does turn,
they cannot win.
Oh Lord, please give this earth
a brand new spin.

To Let Rest

True love lets him sleep till noon
or even past. I'll wake him soon,
but I have found, sometimes the best
way to love is to let rest.

A Luka Luka Bluka

A luka luka bluka leh?
Yes, soon we will go out and play.
Ek koba kuba goba woo?
Yes, and daddy will come too.
Odak odook bolayaglo.
Oh, now that I didn't know.
A deeka deeka beeka nee.
I love it when you talk to me.

Just Fine

The excess of society
just means that we, the patient we,
can often get something for free.
And when there's something someone needs
that's a business opportunity.
And so we all will be just fine
or maybe we'll run out of line.

Another Hill

It seems we have come to another hill.
Put it in the lowest gear and pedal hard.
And even if we have to walk this one,
someday we'll come coasting into the yard.

Sleeping

Sleeping is not easy,

at least not for me. But you– maybe.

No, sleep is not my forte.

And so I empathize with my baby. 

Australia

We always wanted to visit Australia,
and now you're going to be living there.
That exotic land of kangaroos,
and dingos, and koala bears.
But as you know, Australia is normal,
and though it's on the other side of earth,
you'll always feel right side up,
yes, even at first.

Buildings

There comes a time
in a building's life
when you start to compare
demolition and repair.
For a building,
there is no such thing as
aging gracefully,
dying with any scrap of dignity.
Only scraps of scrap.
Because a building is not alive.
These bricks are not like cells;
they don't have organelles.
These walls are not like skin;
they can't choose what to let in.
And so we work our living bodies
and we burn our living skin
as we strive to keep alive
these buildings we live in.

My Latest Idea

I have about three thousand ideas a day
and only three of them are any good,
and one of them is just "we should go to bed now,"
so it doesn't really count.
But still, that adds up to quite a few good ideas,
and my latest idea is bound to be one of them.

Good For Us

Being hungry is good for us.
For us, it means it's time to eat.
For us, it means we might lose something that we don't want anyway.
For us, it means the food will taste that much better.
For others, it means that there is not enough to eat.
Yes, being hungry is good, for us.

Games

We have a shelf of games.
We do not play them much
because our baby likes to eat
dice and tiles and such.
When she's around, cards quake
and checkers try to flee.
She thinks it is a game,
and we cannot disagree.

First Bird

First bird of the morning,
I heard you sing,
but now I hear thunder in your same sky.
Maybe there's rain
to come for the ground,
but while it is raining, where will you hide?

The Bottom of the Middle

There is a spectrum from
taking advantage
to being taken advantage of.
There are those who do one
or the other,
then some people in between
who can freely give and receive
not only gifts and help
but also respect and admiration.
And then there are some
in the bottom of the middle of that spectrum
who are told by some to stop freeloading
and others to stop working for free,
and that is not a fun place to be.

Sliding Puzzle

Life is like a sliding puzzle,

the kind with nine or sixteen squares

that only work when there's a space,

so if your life seems full, beware.

Mail

The mailwoman comes just once a day,
so I just check the mailbox once.
I know that all the junk will come,
just once a day, about at lunch.
My email comes in when it pleases,
and so I could check it constantly
just to find, like the paper mail,
there's rarely anything for me.

Leave a Comment

If you have missed my poetry,
well, I have missed it too.
Each day flies past
so very fast
and there's so much to do.
So if you've missed my poetry,
please give me some first lines
or leave a comment
with a topic
and I'll respond with rhymes.

I Will Be Tired Today

I will be tired today.
My thoughts will be with those
who worked all night,
or prayed all night,
or defended their own lives
all night.
And I just can't sleep,
knowing there are
poems to be written,
words to be said…
like something to be said
for my big, safe, warm bed.

Forgiving

Well there's no such thing as free,
free lunch, free love, free living.
There's a cost for everything…
and a God who is forgiving.

Plank

There's a plank in my eye,
and it hurts a lot,
but I think someone else
put this plank in this spot!

Right Now

In the morning sun, when your shadow is long,

I see how you're growing, healthy and strong,

and how you will be so tall someday

and what a joy it will be to watch you play.

And when it is later, almost noon,

your shadow curls up, almost like a cocoon;

I remember when you were a baby just born

and I long to hold you like on your first morn.

And as the day goes, and the sun sets too fast,

I think of the present, the future and past,

and your shadow gets longer, and you're a day older

and a little voice whispers, "Right now– you should hold her."

June

June, when all things warm, even my heart,
which, when it's cold, is difficult to start.
June, when flowers bloom and blows the breeze,
and it becomes so easy just to sneeze.

Careening

Little Miss Independent
is careening (it's the stage between walking and running)
around the library.
She's heading for the door,
her eyes are gleaming,
and it's a little scary.

Some Days It's Not

I'm on a roll.
Today's my day,
and nothing's getting
in my way.
I'm gaining speed,
I'm gaining ground,
and wondering why
somedays I'm down.
On days that it's easy
to act on my thoughts
it's hard to remember
why some days it's not.

Cloud-Glasses

The strange yellow glow
of this pressure system (low)
reminds me of the cloud-glasses
that we used to have
to wear when it was grey
to make it seem a sunny day
but it just seemed cloudy-yellow
like today.

Past

A month at twenty-five
is like a week at seventeen
is like a day at six or seven
if you know what I mean.
And I guess that when I'm older
even years will seem as fast
as each shrinks in proportion
to my quantity of past.

Deep Pockets

I have a friend with deep pockets
full of truth and grace…
pockets so deep in pants so tall,
and sometimes it's hard to see His face.

The Slow Process of Making Friends

The slow process of making friends
with people who swim in front of me like fish behind glass
and who would probably not enjoy coming to this side to sit next to me on the couch
and who, like me, would probably find it hard to breath sometimes,
is very slow.

No One Needs Poetry

No one needs poetry.
They need food
and shelter,
hope, peace and love.
But since we don't all have
all these things
we need poetry.
But if we all had
food, shelter, hope, peace and love,
then we would not need poetry.
But then we would want it
all the more.

Don't Go Outch

I'd advise: do not go out
when there is no wind.
A mosquito will slurp you up his snout
and spit you out again.

At Once

There are lots of things that I can do,
but really shouldn't do at once.
For instance, it would not be shrewd
to brush my teeth while I eat lunch.

The Rain Is Like a Curtain

The rain is like a curtain,
the drops are like the cloth,
that thick and heavy velvet
with corners chewed by moths.
The world outside's a theater.
We turn the script's first page.
Until the rain stops falling,
we'll practice here, backstage.

Secret

Who do you love?
Some you seem to love
because you yourself
love to laugh,
love to feel good,
love to feel loved.
Think of the person
for whom
you could always keep a secret.

Coffee Cake

There is no coffee in this cake,
despite what you might think.
They must call it that because
it's good enough to drink.

My Sister

Now my sister's all grown up.
 That is, she's graduated.
  But if she still finds more to learn,
   well, I guess we are related.

Honors

Some are good at music,
and some are good at math.
Some people get a sentence,
and some a paragraph.
A name sounds good in honors,
a name sounds good in praise,
and a soul sounds best in sweet, still rest,
with humble hands upraised.

Trucks

There are trucks on this road,
lots and lots of trucks,
truck after truck on this road
and they all are filled with stuff
like food, machines, and soda pop
and mail and bales and things to shop.
And here we are between it all,
it's like we're at a mall or store.
Except when it's here on the road,
we'd never ask for more.

Progress

Some progress seems to happen by
just keeping up with time.
Some progress must be built from wreckage
time has left behind.

The Hills Are Alive

The hills are alive
with grass to my knees
and bugs and alfalfa––
all music to me!

Prose

Put a tune in your head while you're writing
and you'll end up writing a poem.
So if it is prose that you're after,
just leave all that music alone.

Except Rest

I always have something to do,
but I'm not as busy as you.
So if you need someone to help,
I gladly would offer myself,
although you seem to do it all best
when you do it yourself (except rest).

Flowering Tree

I'd like to be
a flowering tree
with toes in the water
and hair in the breeze,
as strong as an oak
and as light as a feather,
except I want to bloom
through each season's weather.

Chartreuse

Justice, now I know why you chose chartreuse.
It seemed an ugly color; now I know the truth.
It comes out of the trees
before it turns to dark green leaves.
It's the color of spring, the color of new.

Do Better

When we know better,
we do better,
they say.
Not necessarily,
but where there's a will
there's a way.

Do More

There is a voice that says, "Do more, do more"
and that these things should all be done by now.
This voice would be so easy to ignore
if its lie weren't also true somehow.

Some Things New

This computer that I type on
will not always be mine.
Like all machines like this,
it belongs more to a time.
But we can stretch its life,
or rather, we can stretch its use,
with some things new– a trackpad
and a battery with more juice.

Start

My list of things to do today
is long but not quite done.
I need to add "start" to the list–
this task's the hardest one.

Story

Prairie Home Companion
is my companion
as I drive home across the prairie.
At church they asked where I'm from
and I said where I live
but isn't there more to everyone's story?
In Lake Wobegon,
all the women are strong,
and I'm sure they've lived there their whole lives.
But even up there,
life is not always fair
or simple enough to be summarized.

Strong North Wind

Face the strong north wind
and just keep pedaling.
As long as your feet move
your wheels will spin.
The fastest lose all feeling
in their frozen legs and feet.
The fact that you keep going
means you'll win.

Not Just Nice

Oh, let me not be like today,
sunshine spread across my face,
but with a heart as cold as ice.
Let me be loving, not just nice.

First Things First

First things first,
pick the thing that is worst
and change it.
Then do what's next,
but don't change what's best.
Just rearrange it.

Funds

At the zoo, there are jars with signs
filled with coins and fives and ones
to help animals not go extinct
since dinosaurs died of lack of funds.

Spring Inside

Spring smells like my college town, the last place I smelled spring,
and it's like I'm in Kentucky in the morning when birds sing,
and the breeze is Colorado with the window open wide,
and now I realize how much spring I've bottled up inside.

Happy Birthday, Daughter

I just haven't been myself this year.
I can't think like I used to.
It's true, I haven't been just myself.
My precious daughter has been here,
filling my arms,
making me think of someone
other than myself.
She entered the world in the middle of the night.
We learned her face by the morning light.
It's been a year since that sudden day,
and I just haven't been myself.

A Different Smelling Spring

A different smelling spring–
served quite chilled, then warmed quickly,
with notes of melting snow
sweet and earthy on the nose,
this spring has woody undertones:
fresh-aged ash, maple, oak, and pine,
the neighborhood filled with sawdust fine.

Make Amends

A storm can break a tree,
a chipper can tear it apart,
leaving you with plenty of room
to make amends.
Ask and you shall receive,
pressed down and running over,
and you'll be forced (forced!)
to share it with friends.

Getting-Stuff-Done

The washing machine is churning away
which means I'm getting-stuff-done today.
I may be slouched
upon the couch
but I'm being productive, wouldn't you say?

An Eye

I'm developing an eye for what it all comes down to.
I can know without a sigh the bottom line.
There's some things that I've regreted, but to know where this is headed
helps me see a little clearer in this time.

It's Been Half a Year

It's been half a year,
and I'm still writing here,
although not as often.
My schedule seems to soften.
Now two weeks without poems,
you're wondering if I'm home.
Yes, I've been here enough–
just doing other stuff.

What is free today?

Today for free, there is a bed,
two chairs (one plaid, and one that's red),
a box full of computer parts,
someone who wants junk for art,
a TV shelf with dark green doors,
and tomorrow, there'll be more.

Talking About the Weather

On April twenty-two,
two-thousand-thirteen,
a cold wind blew,
and the snow was mean.
And I would guess
that no one would blame us
for just talking about the weather.
This April is famous.

Those Days

There's a tiny little baby that some friends are foster-caring,
and I got to hold him (I'm glad that they were sharing).
He was so very tiny. I'm sure his parents will wish
that they could have held him so soon. They might not know he exists.
And they will always wonder how holding their newborn would feel.
But I forget how it felt with my baby. Those days are fleeting, surreal.

The Floor

Since my baby likes to eat
the crumbs up off the floor,
do I have to vacuum less,
or should I vacuum more?

To Say Thank You

To say thank you
is to give up rights;
it means "You were under no obligation
to give me something so nice."
And so, to say thank you
is to open up and trust
that we won't cease to be cared for.
Yes, this is hard, but a must.

If

I'll take you to the pool,
and we'll go out on walks
and pluck up blades of grass
and learn to not eat rocks,
and I'll push you in the swing
and we'll watch your dad brew beer
and picnic on the yard
if we have summer this year.

Eggs

Eggs for breakfast,
omelets for lunch,
eggs on salads,
and boiled to munch.
Eggs in the basket
and eggs in the nest,
but the chickens are tired.
They've decided to rest.

This Time

This silence is a welcome rest.
This space is where I think.
This time is like an empty cup
that's filled up to the brink.

"Your Baby's First Year"

"Your Baby's First Year,"
and some cover art
remind me–– it's almost gone!
And it breaks my heart.

Shade

Some trees outlive us.
Some trees we outlive.
And if everything stayed alive
to shade our perfect lives
we would have to be
the very first to die.

Strong Hands

Your strong hands on the chainsaw,
and your strong arms have a knack
for getting it done, although it's not fun.
Now I need strong hands for your back.

Thirty-Seven

Thirty-seven books checked out from the library
and I can only read one at a time.
But to the library I go, and I can't say no
to a book whose name calls to mine.

Ice Storm

I suppose these branches were weak,
and so many trees needed pruning,
and we really needed the moisture,
and God has his own sense of timing.
So often we complain
about how long things take
and we don't like to wait
but then listen to us when
it all
happens
at once.

The Ice Storm

I had never seen ice like that.
I had never seen branches so fat
and so many limbs, falling to the ground,
so many repetitions of that crack-and-shatter sound.
So many trunks and wires and sticks
all buried in snow, to add to the mix.

The Downtown Library

We went to the downtown library.

It's much bigger than the one

down the street from our house,

and likely thrice as fun.

Four times as many stacks,

and magazines in racks,

and a space-age check-out scanner.

I can't wait to go back!

Out of Place and Time

A place for everything and everything in it's place.

Where do I put the bag of baby clothes 

I washed and folded and packed and labeled

the day before we heard about their miscarriage?

There is no place for that.

We have no room for grief.

I've never seen a shelf for this sort of thing 

in a house in a magazine

or in a book called "Interior Design for Dummies."

For it is wisdom, not fashion,

that remembers that life involves death

and needs a time as well as a place for everything.

Tomorrow's Eyes

How can I look straight into my child's eyes

and think about my work, my plans?

Is it because I think

"Oh, you'll still be here tomorrow."

Life is too fast.

I hold her fast to my shoulder and look beyond her.

Tomorrow. 

Does she know what tomorrow is?

Or is she only beginning to know herself?

She herself is tomorrow.

Tomorrow's writer, tomorrow's chef, tomorrow's engineer, tomorrow's mother…

And so I see that I am one small mother of tomorrow

so of course I look straight into my child's eyes

and think about tomorrow.

When I'm Done With This

I'll do that when I'm done with this.
I'll just write it on my list.
Might as well give it a hug and a kiss
and not even say "keep in touch,"
but only express "you will be missed."

Louder

Louder every morning,
the birds sing in the trees.
They are louder than the chickens,
and that puts my mind at ease.
And they're louder than the footsteps
that go across my ceiling
and they're louder than my worries,
and that gives me a good feeling.

In These Two Weeks

In these two weeks since I have written,
the first warm days of spring have come,
and we have spent no little time
making up for lack of sun.
And we have talked until we've found
where our sameness ends
and then we've talked until we've found
a way to still be friends.
And I have pushed the stroller fast
for miles on the trail
and we've come home, sat on the step
and sorted through the mail.
And then we pruned the apple tree
which had been getting thick
and you reached out too far to lop
one more superflous stick
and that is when the ladder fell
and so, of course, did you.
I rushed you to the doctor
just like when you had the flu
except this time your eyes were rolling
back into your head
because your pinky snapped in two.
I'm glad that you weren't dead.
And now you have some little screws
holding the bone together
and a blocky splint to wear
in this nice springy weather.
And our baby took several steps
until she stopped and saw
she was too far up off the ground
so she dropped down and crawled.
And I made logos and labels and emails
and you made calculations
and tips and wages to put in the bank
to save for a downpayment.
Our seedling have sprawled across my desk
and into pots on the floor.
I am surprised how much they've grown
but maybe we've grown more.

Someone in the Neighborhood

Someone in the neighborhood is making lots of noise ripping something apart.
Someone in the neighborhood is driving the curves with a broken heart.
Someone in the neighborhood is being taken for walks by their pet.
Someone in the neighborhood hasn't enjoyed the warm weather yet.
Someone in the neighborhood is remembering better times.
Someone in the neighborhood is racking her brain for rhymes.

Don't Go to Facebook

Don't go to facebook for inspiration when you're trying to be poetic.
You'll be sucked in for hours and come out feeling confused, amused, and pathetic.
You'll have seven tabs open with articles you've been recommended to read
and three more tabs with giveaways of things you probably need.
And you'll find out someone is pregnant and someone else is married
and so much information that your own thoughts will be buried.

Life With the Blinds Closed

You live life with the blinds closed
but I am here to pull them open
with a zipping sound as I pull the chord down.
Yes, soon you'll be livin' and hopin'.

This Easter

I did not go to Iowa this Easter.

I did not sing Keith Green's song "Easter Song."

There's lots of things I didn't do

but I did a few things new

and making all things new

has been a big part of Easter all along.

Pruning

We reach up to prune the trees,
decreasing to increase,
and God with love does the same to us
and with a downward reach.
Yes, you were foolish, you forgot to think,
when you reached too far from the ladder.
But God thought long and hard and knew
that he would wisely rather
fall to the ground, like you, with pain
except more like a seed
that dies, is buried and rises again
to give us what we need.

My Bass

The two who owned my bass before me
are both in their own bands
and they have better basses now,
but mostly it's their hands
and ears that have improved,
and that's because of time.
I better solder up this bass
and dedicate some of mine.

To Not Have Any Aspirations

It would be easier to not have any aspirations.
It would feel like hanging out at someone else's house,
finally relaxing because there's nothing to get done.
We would stay there 'til eleven,
just talking and talking,
and we'd go home and go to bed and wake up in the morning,
wondering what we had talked about.

I Love to See You Move About

I love to see you move about.
I love to see you crawl.
I'm glad that you can go so quick.
That isn't true for all.
I'm glad that you can wiggle and squirm.
I'm glad that you are able.
So kick and roll and twist and go
but not on the changing table!

Elbows

Love is like a back massage
with the elbows strong, involved
pushing into muscles hard
and you say it hurts, but good.

But a Man That Old

All paint will chip,
all shingles will peal,
all siding will rot,
but your bones will heal.
And even when
you're getting old
you won't be covered
in mushrooms or mold.
All driveways will crumble,
all stairs will creak,
but a man that old
will have wisdom to speak.

There Once Was a Baby

There once was a baby
with a bunch of wavy hair
and eyes so round
they would stop and stare.
And her cheeks were smooth
and her nose was neat.
She would smile so big
and show off her two teeth.
But I would like that baby to know
that being cute isn't what it's about
and for the rest of her life she needs to be
more concerned with the inside than out.

Stall

The leaves left from last fall
are now not green at all.
They chose to stay
but died anyway.
Why did they choose to stall?

Oh Money

Oh money!
Money on the bar,
money in the drawer.
Put the money in the bank,
and hope for some more.
Money for a house,
money for our health
money for a plan,
for worry, waste, or wealth.
Money to eat,
money to move,
money to buy new ones
when you wear through your shoes.

Nothing

Nothing that rhymes,
nothing profound,
nothing new
'neath the sun we spin 'round.
No word left unsaid,
no vice left untried,
no bottle that floats
'cross this prairie so wide.

Because You Couldn't Sleep

You came to bed so late last night
because you couldn't sleep.
I understand. When I'm not in bed
I never sleep very deep.

Running on Banana

I'm running on banana
and a handful of nuts,
which is okay as long as I
am sitting on my butt.
But when I finish all my work
and get up to take a break
I will need some more food
like a taco or a steak.

I'd Rather Have

Going to stores can be dangerous,

and looking at the ads

that come in a bag on Tuesday night

can be just as bad.

I thought I had what I needed.

I thought I had enough.

But when I looked around I found

some pretty awesome stuff.

I want a high-tech tablet.

I want some cuter shoes.

I want a box to wind the hose

and paint in pretty hues.

All this stuff would be so nice,

but you know what's funny?

When I come home (and close the ads)

I'd rather have my money.

I Love It When You Sleep

I love it when you sleep.
Don't get me wrong,
I like to play with you,
and I'd spend
the whole day with you,
but
I love it when you sleep.

My Sister Is Coming Today

My sister is coming today.
We have a place she can stay.
She's bringing her laundry and a big backpack
in that college-student way.
My sister is coming by car.
My sister has traveled so far
with her laundry and her big backpack
so we can be the sisters we are.

Her Brother

When she jumped to save her brother,
she wasn't thinking about how he shouldn't have gotten so close
or the pros and cons of guardrails
or the temperature of the water.
When she jumped to save her brother, she only thought of her brother.

The Hub

The hub,
the center of a wheel,
is there to hold the wheel together,
each spoke spinning and moving
while the hub stays and stays.
Is it the hub that turns the wheel
or the wheel that turns the hub?
Either way, the hub doesn't get much outside contact,
and she has to continually remind herself
that everything does not revolve around herself.

The Red Hen

The red hen is the loudest.
She bosses the others around.
The red hen wants to be
the loudest chicken kept in town.
The red hen wants to be a rooster,
crowing atop the coop.
The red hen won't be satisfied.
The red hen will be soup.

Get Well

I'll bring you water, herbal tea,

and orange juice to drink.

I'll tell you "Drink it all,

you are thirstier than you think."

And if you don't drink it all,

I'll be able to tell.

But most of all, I just want

you to please get well.

Just Things

When the floor is clear and I can walk,
my head is clear to think and talk.
When my computer runs out of space
I feel so full behind my face.
When the snow begins to melt,
I feel alive as I've ever felt.
I feel like I'll explode or sing
depending on these things– just things!

Seven Every Week

I may not write a poem each day,
but seven every week.
Some people hardly say a word,
but they make up for it when they speak.
I hope I too have something to say,
some thoughtful point to make,
something that makes you think, something
that's worth the time it takes.

Nada, Pero Todo

La manera que la sangre goteó, goteó, goteó
no tuvo nada, pero todo, que ver
con el latido de su corazón.
El agua del grifo hace lo mismo.
Y la manera que fluyó en un hilo por su piel
no tuvo nada, pero todo, que ver
con su color.
El agua se vería igual.

The way the blood dripped, dripped, dripped
had nothing, but everything, to do
with his heartbeat.
Water drips the same way out of a faucet.
And the way it trickled down his skin
had nothing, but everything,
to do with its color.
Water would look the same.

She's Playing

She's playing on the floor by herself.
She just put the elephant in the bucket and she's tapping it on the door.
She's happy, I'm happy here writing.
But what if someday she doesn't need me anymore?

My Mind Is Not Staying The Same

I can see what you are saying,
but I'm not saying the same.
I hear where you are coming from,
and my mind is not staying the same,
but neither is it changing,
at least not in the sense
that I agree with you now.
Although you speak some sense.

By the Time I Am Done

I'm on page eleven of a four-hundred-and-fifty-five page book, and three of the pages I had to read again.
I'm sure I'll have learned a lot by the time I am done but what I really want to know is– when?

Poems

There are lots of poems in my head.
Most of them are songs.
If I were to write them here, though,
that would be just wrong.
The words would all be true and right
and smart, and witty and wise.
But these poems are by a band I like
and they'd be plagiarized.

This Here Poem

There are eleven poems that I have to write today.
I'm sure that they exist if I can find the words to say.
Sometimes its hard to think of something meaningful that rhymes,
but the hardest part of all today will be to find the time.

Yesterday I probably could have written you a poem,
but my husband had a day off. He was actually at home.
And even if I had the time to write a poem again,
I certainly did not have time to write the needed ten!
The day before was Sunday, a restful writing time.
I could have written one poem, but not the needed nine.
On Saturday I had ideas. They probably were great.
But I did not write them down because they were one poem, not eight.
The day I needed seven poems, that sounded like a ton.
So, overwhelmed, I couldn't even write a single one.

But wait! The day I need to write just seven poems is now, today!
I was looking at the calendar-- I looked at April and at May!
February's shorter! Just eight poems late! What fun!
And now I'm down to seven because this here poem is done.

Wouldn't you like to know?

There's lots of things I'd like to know.
There's books and books and books
and articles on the internet.
Like how to grow and cook
the most nutritious herbs,
the conjugations of five hundred
common Spanish verbs.
I'd like to know more history.
I'd like to learn some Greek.
I wouldn't mind knowing every
language people speak.
I'd learn how to lay carpet
or how to sew a suture.
But most of all I'd like to know
more about my future.

Daddy's Back

The baby is happy
she's on daddy's back.
She's playing pretend
and she's a backpack.
She's watching him work.
She's learning a lot.
She's on daddy's back,
one of her favorite spots.

Comments

In the local, big-town newspaper,
with its articles online,
they let the people comment,
to say what's on their minds.
And sometimes it's just scary.
And sometimes it's just sad.
Sometimes they start an argument,
and everyone gets mad.
But sometimes they show kindness
if not humility.
And the comments stay there always
for everyone to see.

When the Weather

Mmmhmm.
This water is good.
It's good when the air is dry.
I can't hardly wait
to recall how it tastes
when the temperature is high!
And the door
out to the patio,
I like how light comes through the glass.
But when the weather
is warmer,
I'll like how it lets me pass.

About Design

My husband says, "Write a poem about design."
And he's right. That's what's been on my mind.
The reason I haven't written poems this past week
is I've had a dozen vector graphics that I had to tweak.
It's amazing what some points, some lines, some colors in between
have the strength to say. How much they can mean.
And how much there is to learn when each mistake's a class
and the notebook is my brain and I have to write so fast.

The Words, the Pictures, and the Music

Unlike the brain behind my face,

my hard drive's running out of space.

I could delete the words,

the pictures and the music.

And they would be gone without a trace.

I think that I should just hold on

before my files are all gone.

I could take the words 

fit a thousand in each picture and set each picture to music.
And then maybe they would fit…
or overflow?

What Language

I speak to my husband in This-ish.
I speak to my baby in That-ish.
And what language do I think in, you might ask.
I think about what I am seeing.
I think about what I am doing.
And being poetic's becoming a difficult task.

Watch and Play

You always do fine in the nursery.
There's plenty of toddlers to track.
While your mama's away
you watch and you play
until your mama comes back.

All Caught Up

Wouldn't if feel wonderful to feel
all caught up?
Everything behind you,
nothing but the breeze and the sunshine on your face. I'd be
scared.
Wouldn't you feel scared?
Losing that tension that keeps a few things from getting done,
a few projects from flying
would be like losing gravity.
All caught up:
caught up by the atmosphere.
Yes, it would be clear.
But I'd be scared.

All Poetry Is Lost

Today was going to be the day I got caught up.
I guess that will be tomorrow.
If you run out of things to do,
I have a list you can borrow!
But I'll write on that some other day.
Tonight I'm only here to say…

All poetry is lost
when your child must be trapped in a plastic contraption
to write it.

To Do What I Set Out To Do

If I had the time to do what I set out to do,
I'd need not one hundred years, but two!

Each Delicate Thing

Flakes of frost fall swiftly at an angle to the ground.
I should have taken a picture while they were all up on the tree.
But if we were to capture each delicate thing and flatten it forever as a file
quick before it changes
just think how many pictures there would be of you and me.

Draft

What do you do
when a different religion
comes knocking at your door?
"Uh huh, thank you, I've got to go."
It's cold outside.
I don't want to let in a draft.
But could I let a gush of warm air out to them?

Oh, Library

Oh, Library!
I hear you calling me!
I have seven books on hold, apparently.
(And three books overdue,
and one that needs some glue.)
While you wait for me, please know: I love you.
I know you open up at ten.
I have four more poems to pen
and then I hope to see you again, my good friend.

I'm Going To Write Poems

I'm going to write poems.
I'm going to sit on my butt and write poems.
I don't care what you say,
I don't care what you need,
I'm going to write poems for these people to read.

I'm going to write poems.
I'm going to look at this room I call home
and I'll find in this mess
something worth thoughtfulness.
I'm going to write poems and I'm not going to stress.

I'm going to write poems--
set my chair in the sun and write poems.
Cobwebs clear from my head,
welcome poetry instead.
I'm going to write poems that ought to be read.

How Would I Write

If I set you to random
and told you to play
you'd sing to me
for twenty-two days.
So many songs
that I just might
need to hear.
But how would I write?

Savory

Every sweet thing can be wrapped in red

and every sweet word can fit on a card

but better than sweet is savory

like a promise to do what is hard.

Love Is Like the Thread

If it's true that fools rush in,

I'd rush for you all over again.

It seems that rushing's always been

a way of life for us.

But between the many road trips

without time for scenic exits

and the passports, visas, tickets,

and jostling in the bus,

it seems that we've become a family.

I've grown up and you're more manly.

It may look like we're just standing,

when really we're taking a breath.

And when we breathe, we start to dream,

and you know all seven dreams I mean--

our minds come together like a seam,

and love is like the thread.

And we've both done it, so we know

it's not worth rushing when you sew.

At least today, let's take it slow

and save this stitch in time.

Let's save each penny that you earn,

and savor every chance to learn.

I'll say, may your heart always yearn

to be stitched tight to mine.

She Waits For Love

She waits for love like Valentine's Day,
but even on that day it doesn't rise.
Instead, like every day he waits for her.
And neither will see through the other's eyes.

When There Is No Time to Think… We Are Unaware

When there is no time to think,
that is when to think.
And when there is no time to pray,
find it anyway.
You can't study by putting a book under your pillow,
but I do believe that we can rest in prayer,
and that God will shape our thoughts throughout our sleeping,
and waken us when we are unaware.

How Do We Know That Spring Will Come

How do we know that spring will come?

It might get colder and colder.

In May we might be shoveling

through snow up to our shoulders.

In August we might start to pack

to move towards the equator,

wondering if we'd ever come back–

if spring were coming later. 

In October we might ask ourselves

what to call this long new season.

At the second Christmas this winter,

we might be un-merry (with reason).

And by next February,

this might be getting old.

But I know that soon the spring will come,

so I won't grump about the cold.

Love to Learn

I try and yearn
and love to learn.
I swear I'll never stop.
With positive greed
I'll read and read.
I hope my head won't pop!

I Would Have Never Known

You always eat in the middle of the night
but I should never complain.
When else would I stop and realize
these thoughts within my brain?
You eat and eat and go back to sleep,
but I'm left wide awake.
I'm hungry, too. (That's nothing new.)
I have a fast to break.
And I have hypotheses to try
and words to write into poems.
These midnight hours are full of ideas
I would have never known.

Happy Birthday, Brother

It's hard to think that you're not much older than me.
It's different now than when you were six and I was three.
And soon even our kids will be in the same stage.
Don't worry, you'll always be ahead of me in some ways.

That Pop

That pop in my knees,
that crinkle in my joints–
is there a disease
to which these point?
Arthritis? Inflammation?
Too much running up and down?
Is it a real big problem?
Or is it just a sound?

Boundaries

"A love that knows no boundaries."
It sounds so good in theory.
But I've read a woman's tears,
and so I'm skeptical. I'm leery.
I see no one can love another
without loving his own self.
It's just that, lacking boundaries,
love's selfishness excels
and overcomes intentions
and turns itself to lust.
So until love's perfected,
boundaries are a must.

Modern Poem

This poem
it shall be
famous as all get out
because
you
don't
get it.

What I'm Doing Now

What I'm doing now is for today.
At least it's not for the day before.
But if this is only for today,
I still want more.

Get Inspired

If you need to get inspired
to get up off your duff
and your list of things to do
doesn't motivate enough
and you're not sure you can do it
and you start to get depressed
then click on over to YouTube
and watch a commencement address.

Screen

Something spattered on my screen
makes it hard to think.
I use my sleeve to get it clean
with water from the sink.
And now I have page that's blank
to fill with all my thoughts.
It's just the sort of screen that could
give me writer's block.

A Bird Sings

Why would a bird sing
when it's far below freezing?
I hope this means spring comes
and winter is easing.
I hear it again–
whether sparrow or wren
I know that when spring comes
we're going to be friends.

Liquid Heart

Your eyes are sparkling
like your mama's diamond ring,
one hand wrapped 'round my finger
and one hand in the air.
A giggle bubbles up
like an overflowing cup.
Smile like a work of art
makes for mama's liquid heart.

A Library Book

I thought the book was good,
but she thought it was tearable.
She liked one page a lot.
I hope the fine is bearable.

Nine Months

You've been outside as much as in.
That's quite the milestone.
In eighteen total months of life,
just look how much you've grown!

Feet

My right foot is quite comfortable.
It wears a pink-striped sock.
My left foot, though, is bare and cold,
like a river rock.
I have two seasons sitting here,
two textures when I walk.

Friends

Friends will call and help you know
that rain will fall and grass will show
and spring will come and poems will flow.

Who Knew?

Who knew it was going to be so hard?
Who knew life wasn't easy or fair?
Who knew? And who was gonna care?
Who knew?
You knew.
And you were there.

Sunshine Blues

I need a little bit of sunshine in my life.
I don't need parties. I don't need spice.
I just gotta have some vitamin D synthesized.
Oh, I need some sunshine in my life.

Only So Much You Can Do

It seems I have no time
if I wake up late
but when I wake up early
I can't stay up past eight.
I'd like to need less sleep.
My baby'd like that too.
But we're getting ready for bed.
There's only so much you can do!

Laundry

This week
the way you grab the clean laundry out of the basket
looks a little more like the way I do it
compared to the way you did it last week
and at this rate
will I ever have to teach you to fold the laundry?
Or will I just
show you and show you?

If Gas Were Free

If gas were free
I would know this town,
not inside, but out,
just from driving up and down.
If gas were free
we'd wear out these treads--
like the back page of an atlas
that's been well used, well read.
If gas were free
we'd be in the car,
and you'd be soothed to sleep
by the tones of NPR.

Strong Consciousness

"Why doesn't she stay asleep?"
I beg with a sigh.
"Our baby has a strong consciousness,"
is my husband's reply,
as she rolls to a crawl and agrees
with a twinkle in her eye.

Privacy

I've written poems you'll never see.
They're as not-for-you as a life at sea.
It's just a matter of privacy.

Holding Pattern

We're in a holding pattern,
not sure where to land,
and we're not just going to settle
for just any patch of sand.
We're not planning how to crash;
we're not running out of fuel.
We are looking how to ground ourselves
to work towards earth's renewal.

If All the Broken Glass in Bogotá

If all the broken glass in Bogotá
came to a point
and held itself together
with fine lead at every joint,
and the glow that tints the clouds
in the dark of night
came in close and shone straight through that glass
in one tremendous light,
and if every siren, engine, horn
all were rearranged
in just one joyful symphony,
now that would be a change.

Random

Thank God the state of my house doesn't determine the state of my soul,
because no matter how hard I try, they both are beyond my control.
Interior design wouldn't make me more alive, righteous or wise.
I think I'll label this shelf "random" just so I feel organized.

The Highest Shelf

We put the Bibles on the highest shelf,
a place of honor we can hardly reach.
But when God gave His Word and gave Himself,
he stooped down low to heal and save and teach.

Relatively Easy

Would it be easier for you to build bookshelves
or to get rid of books?

Getting rid of books is harder than it looks.
But keeping them means shelving them
and dusting them
and moving them
and sometimes even using them
as decor upon the mantel
when you have more books than you can handle.
Reading them?
Well, that can wait
until we move to a place
more than half a city block from the library.
Get rid of them?
We already have.
What we have is already half
of what we had had. Yes. Scary.
We only kept our favorite books--
books about God, theology, linguistics, Middle Earth,
cooking, metallurgy, Mt. Rainier, Spanish…
and we kept a few good books on woodworking,
but we didn't consult them before building the bookshelves
because building bookshelves is relatively easy.

Bright-Eyed Chickens

We made the chickens' ladder steep--
the length too short, the drop too deep.
But in the morning, it is fun
to see the chickens jump and run.
And the clouds are pink and gray
as bright-eyed chickens greet the day.

Benefit of the Doubt

I know I'm s'posed to love my neighbor,
but how'm I s'posed to love these strangers?
I see their cars; they come and go,
but the people I don't know.
So while I figure this one out,
I'll give the benefit of the doubt
to these neighbors I can't name
and hope that they'll give back the same.

Flow Meter

I think I need one of those
flow meters for my nose
so I can measure all this snot
'cause all I know is there's a lot.

Feeling Young

Oh yes, there are days

when I ask, "What have I done?"

and the answer is so little,

but I'm still feeling young.

Oh yes, there are days

when I ask, "What are we doing?"

Like a midlife crisis,

except I'm feeling young.

I'm feeling like I've done enough for my age.

I'm feeling like I'm on the right track for this stage.

I'm feeling strengthened, though I stumble and fall.

Even youths do that, after all. 

Oh yes, there are years

I ask "What was that for?"

And I know that someday

I won't feel young anymore.

But I'm not discouraged.

When it's all said and done,

I've got a long ways to go 

and I'm still feeling young.

Lost Poems

There's lots of poems lost in the dark
because they failed to make a mark.
Flung from the bow inside my mind,
they wander, but they'll never find
a place to land in outer space
before they break, disintegrate
or burn up in the atmosphere
and fall to earth, far far from here
outside a ghostly desert town
because they were not written down.

Because I Love You

I'm giving you a kiss because I love you,
but I could also give a word,
or I could hold you,
or give a gift,
or walk with you to someplace new,
all because I love you.

But I'm giving you a kiss
because I have no words to say.
I'm giving you a kiss
because my back is weak today.
I'm giving you a kiss
because a gift would cost money.
I'm giving you a kiss
because the weather's far from sunny.

No, wait, let's get this straight.
I'm giving you a kiss because I love you.

Catching Up

When I catch up with people,
I get behind on projects.
When I catch up on projects,
I get behind on sleep.
But when you catch up on sleep,
I catch up on everything.

When We Get Back

Home again, home again,
unpackity-pack.
There's lots of unpacking
when we get back.
And laundry, and emails,
and four-hour naps.

Home again, home again,
unpackity-pack.