The onion loves the onion.
It hugs its many layers,
saying, O, O, O,
each vowel smaller
than the last.
Some say it has no heart.
It doesn’t need one.
It surrounds itself,
feels whole. Primordial.
First among vegetables.
If Eve had bitten it
instead of the apple,
how different
Paradise.
Lorna Crozier
From: Sex Lives of Vegetables.
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
by e.e. cumming
Expect nothing. Live frugally
On surprise.
become a stranger
To need of pity
Or, if compassion be freely
Given out
Take only enough
Stop short of urge to plead
Then purge away the need.
Wish for nothing larger
Than your own small heart
Or greater than a star;
Tame wild disappointment
With caress unmoved and cold
Make of it a parka
For your soul.
Discover the reason why
So tiny human midget
Exists at all
So scared unwise
But expect nothing. Live frugally
On surprise.
It’s a frigid -26 Celsius with ice crystals in the air so I thought I would post a winter poem 🙂
Edward Gates
From: Heart’s Cupboard
the wind beats snow
against my house
threads hang from the coat of a man
filling the cracks in his home
last night a man with black hair
drank beer by the well house
he laughed through a crack in the door
I put more wood on the stove
I am warm leaning back
on the legs of his old chair
(credit: Ruedi Beglinger – photo taken at Moloch Hut, Selkirk Mountains)
mountain peaks
rise heavenward
in joyful exclamation
I tickle clouds
make angels laugh
(personal photos from our recent hike to Durrand Glacier)
glacial meltwater
flows steady
into carved rock basins
where weary hikers
can stop and soak
(photo credit: Arnoud Jansen)
lazy summer heat
stops time
papa naps in shade
(photo credit: imprm@countach.fm)
Whispering winds carry secrets
over sleepy city streets
gather and swirl
unsuspecting thoughts
Exhausted dwellers walk
through zombie days
focus on one foot
in front of the other
Up and down, over and under
air moves in stealth
a silent intruder
Scarves wrap against it
coats button it out
still it continues
growing
until it Howls
(internet photo)
Yahoo, yee-haw, yippee-ki-yay
another Stampede is underway.
The city is buzzing
with tourists from afar,
chuck wagons and horses continue to star.
Cowboy hats, and cowboy boots
two-step, stomp and dance to wee hours,
the midway offers spinning rides
and exotic food to devour.
It’s a great big party
for one and all,
Calgary’s Stampede –
better than a Game of Thrones ball.
(internet photo)
My tongue lolls
like a dog on a hot day.
It hangs out
day ’til night
to catch shooting stars
from our first date.
No clouds are too dark or too grey
to dampen the spark you ignited.
I stand in the rain.
Your scent washes from my hair,
so recently twisted through your fingers.
My squeaky-balloon shoes
squish along the sidewalk
each step one further from you.
If I had a rooster right now
I would make it wear these noisy shoes,
take away the annoyance of your departure.
Already your absence is a giant egg beside me.
The truth as much a surprise to me
as seeing a rooster wear shoes.
A quart-berry basket full of water
is easier to manage than your absence.
I would powder my nose with an ax
rather than be away from you.
I would eat plastic grapes, breathe fire,
drive a truck with a screwdriver
if it meant I would be back with you.
My mind has shrunk to the size of a pea
my body no longer exists.
I want to wash your feet, honor you
for blessing me with the gift of your love.
As each step takes me further from you
I walk like I have a tail between my legs.
I pretend it isn’t mine.
I pretend you are still with me.
ScribbleDartsfromtheHeart 