Monday, July 23, 2012

Questing

Questing

I sail on a ship in a far sea
            and my eyes are gold,
gold as the daughters of Hecate
            who follow the Hounds of Bran.
I am searching for a little flower,
            a little purple, reddened flower,
and a greening grave, mounded with stone and earth.

My boat is a cockleshell, golden and green,
            and I sing as I sail
            a new, sharp tune.
Silver flowers bloom out of my hair
I wear glass earrings, whistling in the wind.

I am on a quest for tomorrow’s yesterday
that one, sweet point
            where liquid sun and amythestine moon
                        kiss in a never-never world of night.

2-27-2006

(This is - was - my last poem. It was the latest I wrote, right around the time I finished undergrad. It was also the last, as I never felt the urge again. Guess I wrote out everything I had. Incidentally, I have no recollection of writing this, at all. When I found it, I googled it to make sure it was mine! I'm pretty sure it is...)

Monday, July 16, 2012

Summer evening--

Summer evening
bright white light filters through
a profusion of narrow green leaves
outside my window
flickering shadows on my face as
I dry my hair
a sudden swoop
a red cardinal
darts and lands on a
suddenly swaying branch
crimson feathers
translucent orange beak
stylish black trimming
he falls to the deck like a stone
and curves out under the railing

5/15/01

Monday, July 9, 2012

Sun glows--

the sun glows
i balance
on a chair and climb
into bed
the white walls
of my room
are quiet
we talk;
then...
“goodnight” she says
and is silent
i stare out the window
at the leaves
black blurs against
mellow gold
sunset
this is evening
i gaze at the white walls
and listen
to the hum of the air-conditioner

2/3/98

Monday, July 2, 2012

Spring morning--

Spring morning
the raindrops run cold races
down my neck
bare legs in the warm
humid air
brought out of a stiff cocoon
light as wind
I dance
in wet grass
and spin
chasing my own fingers
that stretch
spattered with mists
towards the gray sky

2/15/01

Monday, June 25, 2012

Single beam of light--

a single beam of light
a lonely moon,
the clouds hurry by too fast
to speak of things below
the moon sighs.
rocking herself in a blue hammock,
she listens to the swish of the clouds,
gliding past
murmuring,
thoughtfully she sends her rays
gleaming down
on a laughing girl

Monday, June 18, 2012

Looking at Sparrows on a Rainy Day

           The sky is coldly grey
           the rain drips slowly
           soaking the dreary, unresponsive earth.
           And
           on a tree’s bare branches
           [starkly stretching towards the sky like empty hands]
           the sparrows flit.
           Somehow they fit --
           their drab brown coats are copies of the atmosphere.
           their quick, sharp hops belie their modest feathers
           they dart
           through raindrops
           through winter raindrops

2/21/98

Monday, June 11, 2012

Monday, June 4, 2012

Is it nightmare...

is it nightmare?
or sweet dream that courses through my mind?
leaves me cold with longing
and abhorrence
silent rooms
rooms
twisting, dimly lit
about heavy shelves
I feel myself
wraith-like
turning from shade to shadow
to human thought
my body is envisioning
reality
becoming naught

I hover
between the worlds of sleep and dream.

3/8/00

(so...do you remember how I said I was sick a lot all the time I lived in Texas? Because of my allergies? Well, I took a lot of stuff to try to combat the allergies, including various mixtures including decongestants. It turns out that if I take enough decongestants, interesting things happen...I've always rather liked the floating sensation, but some of the other stuff...)

Monday, May 28, 2012

In the mist

everything is dull
gray
misty
sad
the mist distorts things
makes them seem to be
what they are not
a few chirps from some brave bird
are all I hear
the rain is drizzling
a shameful defeat
every gleam of light is hidden
in the mist
like the cloak of night
it comes
covers
smothers
all rebellion
all hope of victory is gone
an old wizened tree
in place of the strong oak that once was
in the sunlight
and now we: those who once fought bravely,
are in the mist

2\6\96

(um...yeah, I don't know where that was going)

Monday, May 21, 2012

It is my loss

it is my loss
that you, who once were fair
are now cold earth
your breath mere air.
I had thought
you were of different kind
your flesh immortal
deathless, your mind
glowed
like tintillating stars
one look
worth molten gold
you are now still
dead, molded, rot
has taken over
the glad thing that once you were

9/28/01

(Yep, Teasdale and Millay)

Monday, May 14, 2012

Shall I go walking on--

Shall I go walking on?
the habit grows
of biting back the tears.
One evening gone,
“And there shall come soft rain”
I plant my feet
And let the wind go rushing by
With it the voices
Crouch and gambol past
I am encased
In a rectangular box of glass
the teratoid visages I cannot see
I am alone
with me
struggling to cast off my reserve
and weep out toward the stars.

6/28/99

(Definitely had been reading a lot of Sara Teasdale and Edna St. Vincent Millay)

Monday, May 7, 2012

Did I once fear

did I once fear
the silence of the dark
I long now to stifled
wrapped 'round in still
quiet is not cold or pale
it is a warm red room
hot and stupefying
a drug that brings relief
shut up
shut up
let me lie still
and hear a great abyss
wide and open
constant, cruel
noise comes
my nerves
are as taut as the plucked strings
on a violin
waiting
let me sleep
let me find oblivion
that my ears may be no longer torn
with shattering sound


(See, my older younger brother, as opposed to my younger younger brother, decided he was going to raise birds. Parakeets to be precise. In his bedroom. In our very small mobile home, with paper thin walls. Did you know that parakeets, if you don't take care of them consistently, SCREECH ALL DAY AND NIGHT? I have never really liked birds since. On the bright side, I didn't have to share a bedroom with him - If I recall correctly, it was around this time that my older brother started sleeping in his car...)

Monday, April 30, 2012

Red tail-lights--

red tail-lights
string along the road
my eyes bunch them
into clusters of fluorescent glare

4\20\99

(you can do a lot of fun things with your eyes when you have awful eyesight and wear glasses)

Monday, April 23, 2012

New Mexico fields with foothills

     new mexico fields with foothills
it’s not loneliness
but peaceful emptiness
the fields lie quietly, dreamily
at the hill’s feet
silently they exchange thoughts
slowly knowing
learning
being
dwelling
forever

(This is my other first poem. Hey, I was 12, ok?)

Monday, April 16, 2012

Mother--

mother
i am bone of your bone
flesh of your flesh
your voice, warm with wisdom
continually echoes
the mind is ruler over the body
the will can tame the desire
wise words
tell me, where did you find such wise words?
I am enlightened now
beyond the reach of your mean mind
i find myself wondering how
uneducated, untaught, you say such things
in the final analysis
(they tell me it is a clinical disorder)
my mind, as you so strongly said
has ruled my body
and now,
i wish that i could kill my aching sphere of thought

 (just playing with words, remember? I like my mom, even if we drive each other nuts. No, this is not about her. I was just playing!)

Monday, April 9, 2012

My garden--

My garden is heavy-rimmed
folded and skirted with green
bared to the sun and sky
pitiful, young and still
the weeds grow thick
blossom soft
beneath them worlds settle
ants scurry
leisurely june-bugs trundle to and fro from naps
mosquito hawks hover
like planes above a mystic jungle

4/3/01

Monday, April 2, 2012

Monday, March 26, 2012

Song for the spring


There is a red cardinal
  feather-red
  winter-red
sitting on an oak branch
  old limb
  new leaves
contrasting with the green earth
  spring’s here
  green growth
the sun is sweetly golden
the cardinal is red
the earth is gladly green.

Monday, March 19, 2012

Worlds turn--


Worlds turn, light twists
we sleep. Gold dreams
come through stars and cloud
black horses of the mind
drift through the sky.

days’ pain made soft
through furred air
we wait in the wings
we hum in the dark

rise now in the sun
paths turn, feet shift
trees strangely seem
in this cold borning light

Have we not changed
(minds, hands, eyes, thought)
throughout our sojourn
in black crystal dreams?

Monday, March 12, 2012

Wind

wild and fast and cold
slow and warm and old
daintily dancing
wildly prancing
tossing the leaves
swaying the trees
sweeping clean the sky
moon
and stars
it comes.

(My first poem! Written all by myself! When I was...12 I think.)

Monday, March 5, 2012

Upon rejection

I could not answer
her words shocked me
into silence
not that
I cared
it was only that
the words
surprised me
and then...
silence

(I really, really, really hated school. Really.)

Monday, February 27, 2012

Southern Autumn

sunlight achingly golden
muted sounds ripple past
trees put forth green
spurred on by chilled mornings
memories flit by
called up by afternoons
when the
sun’s rays beat hot
battling against chilly wind
summer is gone like a dream

Monday, February 20, 2012

Name is a box--


A name is a box
A frame for the inner soul.
All the things in the box
are the inside, the me.

I am changing the box,
renewing the frame
Sorting out the contents
re-painting the picture.

Some things I want to keep
I move them into my new box
this old box is shabby
I'll tape it and put it in storage

There are the same things inside the box
I've only changed the outer shell.

Spring, 2003

Monday, February 13, 2012

Rose perfume

The scent of a rose
like apples
and a far, sweet essence
a picture materializes
From fairy tale and legend
of a jeweled tree
living, blossoming stones
and hanging,
like great globes of honey
golden apples
that send forth soft perfume.

3/29/00

Monday, February 6, 2012

Riding the bus on Saturday afternoon

          Riding the Bus on Saturday Afternoon
         
                                                This an adventure,
                                                August adventure.
                                                Out on my own,
                                                September adventure.
                                                Dreamed of, now coming
                                                this is delicious
                                                wobble-leg sweet
                                                head-pounding
                                                heart-dancing
                                                finger-stiffening
                                                sour taste in my mouth.
                                                I am released
                                                like a single clear note
                                                set loose to shimmer
                                                for this time and remembering
                                                I shall be loosed
                                                mind boggling
                                                tongue drying
                                                shy voice
                                                free.

Cailin Sanders

(I was 15 and I wasn't allowed to ride the city bus downtown by myself, which limited me to our local one-room library and the occasional trips to a branch library. I really, really, really wanted to visit the Central library in Austin. I'd been there a couple times, but I wanted to go whenever I wanted to! The books called me! So, sneakily, (and I was not normally a sneaky teen) I told my dad where I was going (while he wasn't listening) and told my mom I was just taking the bus to the church where I babysat on Saturday. Which I did! But then instead of coming home I continued on the bus downtown and went to the library. Of course, I got in trouble later (as I had planned, my dad totally forgot I'd said anything to him, so nobody knew where I was for about four hours), but I was firm in my justification that I had told someone where I was going and after that I assumed I had permission to go wherever I wanted on the bus, although I told my mom when to expect me home afterwards in the future (-:) It was an utterly liberating feeling to be on my own, going where I wanted to. It was a gorgeous day, I got a ton of wonderful books, and it was one of the perfect moments of my life. 13 years later, I'm still single, I still go on expeditions by myself, and I still love it!