Cat Love

The moment twin rescue kitties decide

I’d left and returned often enough to

claim they own me, their personal masseuse,

head-scratcher servant who wakes to feed them.

The moment they sit in their tallest pose—

echoing each other—waiting for me.

The moment I submit to their purring

and linger longer in the lounging chair.

That’s when I recall waiting a long time

for the affection of a wild thing,

and I sit tall, too, so the three of us

are perfectly parallel in desire.

For Sumana's prompt Poets United Midweek Motif ~ A / The Moment

My blog poems are rough drafts.
Please respect my copyright.
If you quote, credit this page.
© 2019 Susan L. Chast

Embracing Cinder Blocks and Tires

Source

Hating change is hating God. Changes are. Constant.

Sometimes they hit like cinder blocks falling on

our feet and breaking them into permanent pain,

and sometimes change leaks slowly, like air from a tire,

until we drift uselessly off the road we have

been traveling, hoping to shop for the right change

over a long non-urgent period of time.

Could we have seen the cinder blocks falling and death

calling? climate changing and pets ranging? Is there

time to fund more medical solutions and space

exploration?  For all?  This place is too small. 

And irregular. Let's get out. Let's run about.

Or lock in form—a cadence of six feet—with rhymes.

At times. Lock in love. A dove. You are. Change.ing.

For Sumana and my prompt Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Changes

See sky's clouds stopping,

racing, as they strive to keep

up with earth's changes.

My blog poems are rough drafts. 
 Please respect my copyright.
 If you quote, credit this page.
 © 2019 Susan L. Chast

A Little Light Prompt

holly leaf

Candle-bright sunlight bouncing off a holly leaf

into my eye prompts barricades around my heart

to fall aside: tasks and correspondence now due

tumble and the blessing side of shadow steps up

temporarily. Eyes close to protect and relish

this moment's gift. And refreshment remains when eyes

re-open to the window's sun spot and bright tones

around the room. Details in acrylic paintings

flash; even in the shadows they speak, expanding

into trees, mountains, deserts, tulips and acorn

squash. A black cat's tail flickers as a car passes.

A sigh escapes. Cleaning “lenses of perception”

takes this little while of deliberate let-go.

Infinity rushes in; and then it lets go.

My blog poems are rough drafts. 
 Please respect my copyright.
 If you quote, credit this page.
 © 2019 Susan L. Chast

The Moses Paradox

source

If I say aloud what I most long for,

striving for any other purpose would

seem wasteful. So hush. Shh. We'll say no more

about it. Talking leads to thoughts and deeds.

Rather, let's strive to have no more longing,

Let's even quit longing to be useful,

and to know our true paths. Yes, let's achieve

a full letting go in meditation.

Free to be a me-plant next to a you

who are a plant, too, part of a tree line,

mingling our toes and arms on fire-free hills

where our purpose is to hold the form.

And here's the rub: free of longing, at last

happy, we now hear leadings telling us to

show up and save a child, to step kindly

toward peace, to grow food and call out hate.

More mysterious still, these leadings match

our silenced longings—they overtake us.

We can't escape. But now we know higher

powers than our own wills are leading us.

And striving for any other purpose

would be wasteful. Longing to answer YES

fills each of us with strength, the roots planted

fill us with strength. Planted, we may now speak.

For Sumana's prompt Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Longing

which opens at 6am Central time.

My blog poems are rough drafts. 
 Please respect my copyright.
 If you quote, credit this page.
 © 2019 Susan L. Chast

White, Red, Blues Fade

Rothko No. 61

Blues suits this week

long anniversary
of your leaving to join the dead

white shadows circling the edge of my heart.

Where you walk, it is still wet red

staining and running past

lonely benches.

Please sit with me awhile

and watch the loss begin to fade.

Hold my hand  and remark how rich we were—

how penetrating red can be

how plaintive the sound suits

our last time blues.

 For Thotpurge's Poetry Tuesday #4 – Blue

My blog poems are rough drafts. 
 Please respect my copyright.
 If you quote, credit this page.
 © 2019 Susan L. Chast

Awakening In Time

Alice Meets the Caterpillar

Sadly, awakenings cannot be borrowed nor foretold,

nor certain as metamorphosis is to butterflies.

Light enters imperceptibly or fast.  Who can know?

Each spring we watch for budding on the dogwood tree, but go

to work one day before the awe, and like magic, they’re grown!

Sadly, awakenings cannot be borrowed nor foretold.

My waking doesn’t come from reading or waiting or flow—

though I do all these and more—I am inspired by good Friends.

Light enters imperceptibly or fast, who can know?

We know“Light takes the Tree, but who can tell us how?”*      

and to“Live the questions …gradually…into the answer,” **           

because awakenings cannot be borrowed nor foretold.

Wisdom walks beside me on pine needles, on concrete roads.

I hold the proffered hand, but taste the beat of my own heart.

I know awakenings cannot be borrowed nor foretold,

Light enters imperceptibly or fast.  In time, we'll know.

(*Roethke)

 (**Rilke)

For my prompt Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Awakening

which opens Wednesday at 6am Central time

and for THOTPURGE's prompt Poetry Tuesday #3 – Borrowed

Note to Thotpurge:  I borrowed, but couldn't quite get the villanelle form.  I am still working on it, and on taking two feet out of each line. "Awakening" was on my mind as it is the prompt I wrote for this week.  Theodore Roethke's "Waking" and its paradoxes—along with my own longing—inspired the rest.

My blog poems are rough drafts. 
Please respect my copyright.
If you quote, credit this page.
© 2019 Susan L. Chast