01 April 2015



When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep

Puppy love they called it
but the teenagers were
crushed by the weight of it
until it poured like ink
from fingers and brown eyes
and they shared skin and books
and kisses and laughter
now boxed and buried by years.

Posted for Magaly's What Sparked Your Poetic Heart? 
at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.

Copyright © 2015  S.L.Chast

Carpe Diem

God spits out
cherry blossom poetry
along with Mother Nature
as if they’re shaking
the edges of a vast
urban counterpane
to entertain us all.

You’d think their voices
would be louder, but
they let color take center stage,  
petals make the deepest bows
and the wind create
bouquets to honor
their spring performance.

How quickly the pink
blossoms come and go—
the curtain falls. 
Yet divine courtship
bears fruit of deeper hue,
pits wrapped in flesh so sweet
we chew and spit a few.

For my prompt 

Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Cherry Blossoms

Copyright © 2015  S.L.Chast

31 March 2015



At five she wanted to be a dancer
but had no money for lessons nor room
to move in a twenty by twenty foot
apartment for a family of five.
She loved and played and cried and laughed and grew
while watching her hands play shadow puppets
in light thrown by a cracked-open bedroom 
door to dance on her private top bunk wall.

Here was born the storyteller, teacher,
stage director, performer and late faith
explorer that feed the poet today:
She was conceived in stillness and silence
on a cloud-level mattress with home-made
quilts, plump pillows and sleepy masquerade.

Conceived for Magaly's The Birth of Your Art 
for the #1 April Poetry 2015.  

Copyright © 2015  S.L.Chast

Mixing Metaphors

Ponies in the marshes of Assateaguephoto by Fritz Geller-Grimm

Inner push to speak comes less frequently
but stays longer and delves me deeper than
comfort.  I would bury this rawness if
I could but it pours out, rearranging
its parts—jigsaw puzzle captivating—
until whole .  Am I some wild pony
to tame?  I demand to know only to
hear the sibilance of shush and fishing
in water sounds.  Isn’t this what I prayed
for?  To be used?  And useful?  Another
fish grabs me—hooking and holding—to pull
me on this ride through living waters. 
I breathe deeply to face my fear:
How can I drown when God is here?

at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads
and at Gabriella's Poetics – Vocation or Call
at dVerse Poets Pub

Copyright © 2015  S.L.Chast

29 March 2015

Ancient Kitty

My ancient kitty sits tall and still as a sphinx
gazing at me with her clear celadon eyes—
measuring me, memorizing me, saying to
me “Hey there.  I love you” with a spiritual
softness that is new. 
                            She has turned a corner
in her life—sleeping more than she’s awake, alert
to meal and playtimes out of habit rather than
need, looking for dark quiet places to curl up
and dream of pleasures.
                                                I show her my gratitude
for the latest of her gifts—feline fortitude—
by gazing back, combing her itchy places and
giving her more time and touch without lifting her—
Oh my darling cat!  You don’t complain at each new
                                                you simply go on and on
as is your job and mine: live life to the fullest!
I did not anticipate learning this from you,
my dear.  Have I given you enough love and food?
Have you felt my affection through your fur and my
skin, touching, being?

Posted at Poetry Pantry #245 of Poets United

Copyright © 2015  S.L.Chast

26 March 2015

What's in a name?

Twelve depictions of Jesus from around the world

Jesus—both Joe and Sophia—is so
much easier than Christ. What’s in a name?

He lives in mirrors and reflecting pools.
She walks beside me in the green pastures.

And in the blistering deserts of rhyme,
they grin in tune with irony and dust.

Gazing back at us like mirroring cats
their conscience is a draft of clarity

we drink to end thirst and malnutrition,
to soften ego soil and till the ground

in time for love to be the only growth
and hearts to be the root of existence.

The stems and leaves then blossom into Christ
whether or not we see eternal flames.

File:Tintoretto, Jacopo - Christ at the Sea of Galilee.jpg
Christ at the Sea of Galilee by Tintoretto

Posted at dVerse for Open Link Night #145

Copyright © 2015  S.L.Chast