Punk in Pi
Tutu and hairfalls by Kayla Freeman of Oak Ridge, TN
Rumble Strip
Cautionary sign
Here!
Let me strip naked, remove my facade,
so you can see inside of me
that I’m human
and not God
Here!
Let me wipe away my poker face
so you can peek beneath the mask
realize my barren
mundane task
Here!
Let me demonstrate how dying feels
be locked up without parole
be removed totally
life without a soul
Pass it onward!
Season with Earth
The Autumn Sky
The colors of the Autumn breeze
dancing rainbows round naked trees
Browning of the greenest grass
brightness of the death contrasts
Orange, yellow, green, brown, red
briefly
intensely
witnessed as dead
The icy winds begin to blow
hailing
beckoning
oncoming snow
I watch in mourning staring cloudy skies
the loss of warmth from Summer’s prize.
Deep in the earth seek slumber’s redemption
Awaken in the Spring as Winter’s confession
Pass it onward!
A study of breath
Wishflowers
The breath I breathe was never mine
It’s but a reminder of the passing time
The rise and fall of conquering nations
The atomic reaction of cosmic sensation
The intimate sigh of the living world
The refreshing gust of faith unfurled
The revelation of the stormy night
The passion sighed in lover’s delight
The whisper of a birthday wish
An aged dandelion in a child’s fist
The breath I breathe was never mine
It’s merely a reminder of borrowed time.
Pass it onward!
Reawakening My Mother
You may have noticed that I’ve been setting my beloved Dad up on a pedestal lately. You may be wondering why in the world I wouldn’t be doing the same for my mother. I think most daughters could give you the same answer, “It’s complicated.”
This is an article I wrote for a now defunct blog regarding the relationship with my mother whom I now live with due to the strangest of events. This is a true account.
Mother and daughter reunited
Persephone yawns and stretches from her slumber. The trees respond with kisses of green bud promises. The flower bulbs planted in the autumn reach out to impress her with their dazzling array of colors. Coaxing her to return, beckoning her to shed the grays and browns of her winter clothing and cloak herself in their kaleidoscope prism.
The birds sing in accordance with Demeter’s joy of her daughter returning. The birds, the animals, the people engage in the renewed mating rituals of the season. The winds whisper, “She is coming. Persephone returns.” And the mother responds to the words with rains of happy tears and dabs the scent of rejuvenated earth to entice her daughter closer.
My nature heeds the calling I hear as the Wheel turns from icy winter winds that left me breathless to the return of the daughter to her mother.
I was…
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Pass it onward!
The old sweater
This appears in the shape of an unraveling sweater if viewed on a computer screen. I’m not sure if that will convey on a phone screen. It was my first attempt at the “art” of poetry.
A sweater should be warm and generous to snuggle safely into when it’s chilly.
I loved that sweater.
I adored the warmth and the way it smelled like motherhood.
I loved the softness that it offered, the tenderness of triumphant love
I embraced the patterns, the textures, the shifting colors, the lengthening tide
It was my favorite that I brought out whenever I needed to put on my very best outfit
But I snagged it on a dream that stuck out from the wall just a little too far, too far.
It kept getting caught every time I’d pass through that doorway into the other room.
I kept meaning to fix that spot on the wall but there never seemed to be enough time.
The picture of us at Christmas,
(I was wearing that sweater) hangs askew
with chipped glass over my face
That should be non-glaring, but the…
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Pass it onward!
Dave Looney Sr., My dad
My dad, Dave Looney Sr, and his dog Apollo.
Today I’m in a deep state of admiration for my dad. I’ve been dangling carrots in front of you for a while, but truly, if you understood, you’d be madly in love with him too.
My dad is a man of courage, strength and integrity. He not only served America in the United States Navy as a Sea Bee (from which he retired), but he also struck out to begin a life away from everything he’d ever known. Not only was he incredibly good at solving problems, creating opportunities, waiting until he was ready to accept responsibilities, but he could also move large electrical wires as part of his career in a Union shop for Consumer’s Energy (from which he retired). And he did this all with a strong sense of morals and ethics he learned by choosing to be more than he was told he was worth.
When I think of how much he had to overcome from his upbringing, from the Vietnam War, from the struggles against poverty while raising a family of four children and maintaining a relationship with his new wife during a 1970’s economy, all while working any hours he could get his hands on to provide, I’m in complete awe.
While it is true I’ve been accused (accurately so) of putting men I’ve married or dated on a pedestal, if they only knew half of why I expect so much out of a man is because of my dad, and first from my Grandfather Louis A Coleman, Jr, then perhaps they’d have realized I wanted to hold them in the same esteem. Ben Stotler is trying hard to meet that lofty place because he sees the same thing I do.
My only regret is that I didn’t know how very great he is until I got to hang out with him as much as I have and look at him through the eyes of love. Dave Looney, you’re top hats all the way with true class, honesty, and an incredibly beautiful soul that I aspire to be like.
Pass it onward!
I DIDN’T DRINK THE KOOL-AID
Prompted to repost by a friend who’d asked if anyone remembered this particular fad. Oh, boy do I.
OH YEEEAAAAHH!!!!
I lived in relative poverty as a child. We had more than some, less than others. Wherever my family stood on the economic ladder of the late 1970’s, I was constantly reminded by my peers that my second hand clothes (I was the eldest so it was glaringly obvious on me as on my brother who was the eldest boy) were not acceptable. I wanted so desperately to fit in, to be accepted, to feel worthy. An opportunity did arise during a Kool-Aid fad during my 5th grade year.
I had Mr. Pakulnis. It was early in the school year because he hadn’t yet discovered my wanderlust eye watching the birds or day-dreaming. That’s a habit, by the way, I still do when I write. I stare out the window and get lost.
The Kool-Aid fad was that many of the girls brought in Ziplock (not the…
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The Family Portrait
Everyone has a portrait they keep not because of the contents of the picture but because of the unseen. They remember things that happened just outside the bonds of the photo. They remember that it took a month to get everyone there on the same date at the same time. They remember that the baby was sick with the flu and ended up passing it to everyone that was there that day. Or they remember the way it felt to be squished closer than was comfortable. We have the photos not for what is seen, but for the unseen that we remember every time we look at this world.
The family portrait never sits quite right
the way they think it will
with puzzled faces looking back
bewildered in the still.
Their airbrushed pretty faces
hide the secrets that I hold
Glossing over everything
the unspoken remains untold.
Pass it onward!
My Courageous Friend
I admire true bravery.
Mare Martell 