A chair by a window

 

Writing haiku with
my cup of coffee grounds me.
I look out a window.
 
No words come to mind,
but, fingers on the keys, words
flow onto the screen.
 
Today’s haiku: 1/27/2026

“A clear and sunny
day rewards us after days
of shadow and pain.”

 
The pain and shadow
are still here as ICE still harms
our lives and takes lives—
 
but sun heals, and so
far, merciful quiet frames
news not yet turned on.
 
In this quiet time
I notice I’m sitting as
my grandmother sat:
 
taking the chair shape
writing while hunched over keys
responding to news.
 
She looked up and out
her window from her white house
on a wooded hill.
 
As long as she wrote
she had hope. Daily she rued
poison in our air.
 
Daily she told me
to enjoy life, to smile,
to be kind, to care.
 
Daily she wrote page
after page, letters for miles,
a little red hen
 
working for us all.
each letter was a prayer
for a better life.

 

For Sherry's prompt "Help for Hurting Hearts" at What's Going On? 

 

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright

© 2026 Susan L. Chast 

Bring the peace

 

Eating a poppyseed bagel with cream
cheese and raspberry preserves feels like peace:
an unhurried knife slice cuts the bagel,
leaving two sides to slather with goodness.
 
Sitting with coffee, looking out on land of
green grass or crisped white snow, is peaceful.
Pine and deciduous trees hold city
out of sight--or dot city parks and streets.
 
Peace lies in measured inhale and exhale
when the mind takes a break from endless strife,
or when little ones slow and gently touch
your hands, heart, and spirit for more life.
 
When leaders threaten so many people,
Inner peace brings strength to seek peace at all.

 

For my prompt "Peace" at What's Going On? 

 

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright.

© 2026 Susan L. Chast

Imagine a new beginning

 

source

In winter, as days grow longer, it’s easy
to imagine new buds on last year’s trees and
flowers.  Daffodils and crocuses pop, and
I can almost smell the purples of lilacs
and wisteria, and the white of lilies
of the valley. I can almost feel the soft
touch of azaleas and apple blossoms. 
 
I hold on to nature’s renewal to stay
grounded when the only cure for the present
political crisis is to reinvent democracy,
a new improved democracy in which greed and
violence and dishonor do not get free passes,
where no one is above the law, and no one
expects lies to be accepted as truth.
 
Our current president’s actions were once unimaginable.
Who will he clear of murder next?  Another masked ICE
agent?  Another unmarked plane hitting small boat owners?
What country will he engulf after Venezuela?
Which criminals will he pardon?  Which employees
and departments will he cut? And how will he
escape from Epstein tapes and snuff films?
 
Let spring come with the return of bluebirds,
robins, and spiders.  Let them build safe nests
and safety nets among the returning foliage.
Let me reach up and touch a bunch of lilacs before
taking another step into the morass of state.
Let me imagine enough of the new to prepare
and plant it for a better country and future.

 

For Sumana's prompt "A New Beginning" at What's Going On? 

 

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright

© 2026 Susan L. Chast 

Countdown to the New Year

 

10-9-8-
2025’s act is ending, with 2026’s waiting to enter from the wings
I hear it breathing, bringing along a great beast on a short leash
to be released with fireworks, fanfare and celebration.
Will it be friend or foe?  Can the constitution withstand it?
I’ll be at home with 3 or 4 friends and a half-gallon of eggnog
before we begin to nod off and head home to our beds.
The new year will enter freely, and the monster with it
even if we skip the fireworks display and its noise and smoke.
The racket made sense to me, when as a child grandma urged
us to take out all the pots and pans and bang them
to keep evil spirits out of the new year, to scare them away.
Now, I think of the fireworks as torpedoes and bombs
with the smell of war burning, boiling up from the launching sites.
There is no chasing them away.  Dogs look for re-assurance.
Will fireworks chase evil from the new year? Can the beast be tamed?
-7-6-5-
My government cannot re-assure me.  It has its fingers in war zones
everywhere in the Arab world and in South and Central America.
It works with Russia against Ukraine and with Israel against Palestine. 
It threatens to invade Venezuela.
And here in the US of A, it fights against immigrants and brownness,
seeking to strengthen the hold of white supremacy over our home.
What can be done?  We marched for democracy with No Kings rallies
one and two, and are about to launch No Kings rally number three.
Tools of the government try to squeeze us into compliance with their
policies and violence, and though it seems they succeed in Congress,
they’re losing ground in state elections. One step forward.
Two steps back.  The tools of this government release conserved land
to oil, mineral, and coal exploitation, cut funding to science and medical advances,
and in general, reverse any narrative of harmony between human health
and the land and water we rely upon for the continuance of life. 
They find climate change unreal.  The government’s tools have not been listening. 
Hearing would interfere with profit.
Hearing would work toward equal rights for the land,
for women and Black and brown and poor and nations around the world.
Hearing would use our tax dollars to support health care at home and abroad.
Hearing would seek sustainability in the use of natural resources.
The beast helps its President build his own memorial ballroom
and take John F. Kennedy’s memorial for his own.
The beast laughs as the President lays the groundwork
for golf courses and towers around the world.
What can be done?
-4-3-2-
We the people continue the pressure of massive protests against the tools
that act on us.   Some of us will close doors against the beast
and join the resistance with our dollars and rallying cries.
Some will continue to pet the beast hoping to calm its anger. 
Some of us will stay indoors and witness from the safety of our homes
as forces of democracy thrive and grow against the beast of fascism.
We see the David growing in front of the Goliath, preparing to
fight for life and breath as the beast grins from the steps
of churches and government.  We feed the side we want to prevail.
-1
I sit home and witness.  I am led to trust the movements of those
who stand up.  Who use their bodies so it is not easy to violate the rights
of free people.  Who use their voices in the streets, in debate,
in poetry and prose.  Who use their hearts to light the way,
to write the way, and to share their light with others.

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright.

© 2025 Susan L. Chast

Letting go

 

Grief has been gentle lately.
A constant companion, it lives
under the surface of the face I show the world.
 
The most recent of the deaths
I experienced was that of my black cat Mariah.
Letting go of her was hard.
 
She never sat on me or let me hold her,
but stretched out purring next to me
when I sat on the couch.
 
And now I hold a stuffed animal
against my heart where I wished
she had put her weight and loud purr.
 
As I age, life lets go of many I love,
and the air feels thinner and colder.
A stuffed animal warms my heart.

 

For Mary's prompt "Letting Go" at What's Going On? 

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright.

© 2025 Susan L. Chast

Remembering at the end of time

 

Queen Anne's Lace

 

You ask me what is the last thing I will remember
when—if—I have time for recall as I exit this world.
And I don’t know.  I hope I'll be surprised.
 
I can guess at the first things I’ll remember, though,
as they have centered me most of my life: Queen
Anne’s Lace, for example, with their tiny purple middle.
 
They're always the first flowers I think of before
apple blossoms, peonies, lilies of the valley,
hollyhocks, wisteria, lilacs, azaleas, brown-eyed
 
Susans, and roses. A riot of colors, perfumes, and
insects come among these angels of the land,
and I welcome them in the heat of the sun.
 
And then the trees I’ve hugged, including apple,
sycamore, and pine trees—especially the climbing
tree, a white pine shaded deep in Grandmother’s woods.
 
I’ll remember family and people I worship with and 
those with whom I build beloved community.
The taste of the food—both potluck and hosted.
 
I’ll remember hearing poetry readings and poems—one
or two of my own, Mary Oliver, and snippets from
Shakespeare, Piercy, Angelou, and others.
 
Ah, the good trouble I’ve been part of!   The spirit
of hugs, kisses, handholding, and laughter among friends.
All that reminds me more exists than this world.

For Sherry's prompt "The Last Things I'll Remember" at What's Going On? 

 

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright.

© 2025 Susan L. Chast