poetry

Particles of Light

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

you are the feathered flowers
that lie buried
in the hand-me-down plant.
i want to run my fingers
across the petals and
pluck out the frilly baby’s breath,
put my nose deep into
the scent
that carries me back ten years,
that carries me to the moment
those flowers became you
(a tile floor, shards of glass,
love hidden in particles of light)

this is the love
that is too soft
for others to touch,
the flowers that will never die
though the plant may fade
into the reality of life cycles,
you will still be as brightly beautiful
as the moment
i placed the stems
in the oh-so-fragile vase,
forgetting for a moment
how what breaks us
is what makes us

Loved

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you whisper the words
i’ll remember this moment
we’ll be together

Piano

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it sits in our room
becomes a junk piling place
once a dream of mine

Tree

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in one week my life
will sprout a new leaf–
i hope to know
just where the wind will take me
as i add another ring
to my tree

will i blow to the east
and the sun that rises
so coldly each morning,
or stay west
where my roots are buried
as deep as my soul?

i wish i could see
the color of the bud
as it blossoms from my branches,
but only time will tell
just which way the wind will blow

Arapahoe Road

/ lovizmytrio / 2 Comments

it is like any other day.
it is unlike any other day.
i strip in thirty seconds
and replace appropriate attire
with oh-so-attractive cycling gear

i have it all–
the tight shorts, leggings,
arm-hugging shirt,
fingers-enclosed gloves
to fight a bitter headwind,
helmet with its beautiful
pop-top blaring light,
oversized headphones
that won’t fall out of my ears,
my music. set.

i pedal hard.
the wind scathes me,
but the sun settles amongst
perfectly puffy clouds,
a blue sky spring
and a creek
with mama mallard, daddy duck,
so idyllic i want to
trap their innocence in a lens,
all before i reach Arapahoe Road.

i can’t trap it,
but i take my headwind in stride,
arrive home to three
bright-shirted girls
who make music of their own

he texts me later,
driving home from the ice,
stuck in traffic
on Arapahoe Road.
Lexus Mustang BMW Tahoe,
i illicitly reply,
i fit right in.
(bumper-tied-on 98 Hyundai)
he sends back a laugh
and i smile,
the picture perfect ride
as i crossed this very street
present in the forefront of my mind
on this day like any other,
this day unlike any other.

One

/ lovizmytrio / 3 Comments

no one has called me that name in years.
i mix it with yesterday’s late-night confessions,
the pain that seeps beyond the Holocaust
through the Word Shaker’s mouth,
and the simplest thank you
that is worth to me a million
(dollars i can do without)

there is no irony in the song
that popped up first on my playlist
one
moment that i took to pick up a flyer,
to choose a school,
(i’m familiar with these small decisions)
to go to that meeting,
to start a troop,
to be here in this moment
more than the last.
one
day more than i had before
one
chance to be
the person i am meant to be

i find it all here.
i find you all here–
peppered streams of light
flickering in and out
of the history of me,
everything coming together
to make
one

A Million Times More

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the emotions are so intense
when the right song is played
when my girls say the right words

i cannot fathom my life without them
they sit under green blanket
as i write this
my oldest inflecting as needed
the words she learned years ago to read

my middle girl?
the best combination
of crone and imaginative maiden
fantasy worlds mixed with logic

and the baby?
idealism at its best
all the things we’ve dreamed of
wrapped up in a five-year-old’s summary

i cannot fathom
my life
without these girls
(i’ve said it before
i’ve named a poem
i’ll say it a million times more)

If I Were to Make You Mine

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i know you had it in you this morning,
the urge to pull me close,
to wrap me in your warmth.
i know it was there between each of us.
could i have spared more time?
could i have cut back
on the hills hovering before me?

sometimes i wonder about the miles
that lie between here and there:
how tightly knit they appear,
how curvacious and beautiful they can be

and if i were to make you mine,
would i have seen the shrinking moon,
would i have made all the green lights
that graciously gave me my record time?
would i have been the same person,
giving in to one moment over another?

these small decisions
made before dawn
are the ones that haunt us in the end

Easter Haiku

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red stain on carpet
failed transmission, table lost
Easter with friends: win

Golden Dream

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a three thousand pound weight,
sacks of gold too heavy to lift.
if i could fill them with feathers
and build myself a pair of wings?
i would fly right into the sky
and release myself from monetary need

instead i face a financial dilemma–
drop the gold i can’t quite carry
into the gaping hole of a beast
who will swallow it whole and us too,
leaving behind nothing but wisps
lighter than feathers, unable to fly?

or hold fast to a dream that flies
into every moment of my sleeping wake,
forget the beasts that bear down on me,
and throw my sacks of gold into the sea
as i fly my way to a tomorrow that
i have waited for years to belong to me?