Susan's Poetry

18 April 2014

My Parents' Guest Room

Visiting means deep sleep surrounded by
canvasses and books, leaves and trees, music
and embroidery, piggy banks and used
Christmas and Chanukah cards—nothing is
wasted in the art of recycling, not
even old clothes turned into crazy-quilt
and hooked-rug materials.

Visiting means deep sleep in home-made dreams

prompted by newness once old but never
unwanted, delicate paintings on dried
used teabags gifted by a friend, photos
used as bookmarks, sketches and etchings from
high school art classes and trolley car rides,
brushes and paint and tape, too.

Visiting means getting tired from talking

and walking memory lanes and new paths,
hearing less and less while speaking louder
and louder during show-and-tell and look-
it-up and wait-until-you-see-what I
have been working on in the guest bedroom--
just make yourself at home.

Posted for Ella's Poem a Day: Creative Walls at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.

self portrait

I drew myself with pale and hollow cheeks
but they filled out once I paid attention.

The awkward posture, too, changed as soon as
it noticed me watching and thinking hard.

My skeleton started to do its job
as if it didn’t like being ignored.

Making a self-portrait enlivened and
rejuvenated every part involved.

Amazed, I determined to draw myself
once a year for as long as I shall live.

I put a ring on my finger, golden
symbol of my promise to be mindful.

The portrait applauded and drew me, too
as if it mirrored what inside I knew.

Posted for MeetingTheBar: Self Portraits at dVerse Poets Pub.

17 April 2014

Lies

I don’t miss him much

Her either

He the partner

She the cat

She lived

longer than he

I am unlovable

Or they would live

Here and now by me

And we would never

Rub each other

the wrong way.

They rarely visit

Touch my cheek

Breathe near my ear

Enjoy the smells

In my kitchen

and clothes.

Written for NaPoWriMo's Day Sixteen.

16 April 2014

Melodrama

"The Lion's Cage" is a scene from Chaplin's early film The Circus finished in 1928. Chaplin re-released it in 1967 with his own musical score For more see Filming the Circus, text by David Robinson, Copyright 2004 MK2 SA, The Circus at Wikipedia, and Slant's "Film Review of The Circus" by CHRISTIAN BLAUVELT (JULY 11, 2010).

Melodramatic music engages

our emotions on whirling Ferris wheels

geared to lock us into the ups and downs

of physical actors in celluloid

playgrounds where their characters react to

What. Just. Hap. Penned. Here.

In "The Lion's Cage" I escape peril

only to tip. toe. a.round. a. sleep.ing

beast, each plucky strategy failing with a

shriek of musical wind, until the brass

speak for the lion's waking, curious

but not threatened or threatening until!

O! You foolish Tramp! Your pride runs before

roars—and then angelic charm underscores.

Posted for

Kerry Says - Let's Go to the (Silent) Movies

at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads.

15 April 2014

Not Tame

Phyllis Galembo, Panther, Dodo Masquerade, Bobo-Dioulasso, Burkina Faso, 2009

Listen. The Masquerader has the panther standing tall on 4 legs to stare at photographer Phyllis Galembo and now me: White head and ruff tilt, knees and feet, shoulders and wrists all white against black body suit with touches of yellow and blue. Each element shakes free in shreds clean and sweet as cheerleader’s pompoms.

That’s all I can tell you. The world is not mine and the words that describe the figure are not in my tongue. Google doesn’t know them either. I punch them in and the search engine circles back to photographer Phyllis Galembo. Who found the masque and the masquerader. She didn’t make them up.

That’s all I can tell you. My head bangs on the walls and ceiling of what little information is available. My throat constricts as if to scream HELP! and the masquerader notices this, I am sure his eyes widen, his eyes cut slits in a white hood, hair pushed back. He does not move.

That’s all I can tell you. I feel him daring me to say more, daring me to manipulate his parts as I might do with pieces of European lore. I prefer to feel my smallness against his silence which looms like waves on an Ocean shore. Whether children’s game or sacred rite, he is mystery to me.

I can tell you that I admire mystery more as I age, that my life is too short to solve everything, that I am awed and wistful simultaneously at what I can not tame.

Posted for Anthony's Poetics – The Photography of Phyllis Galembo at dVerse Poets Pub.

The Hermit's Song

Robert Smirke - The Seven Ages of Man- The Lover, 'As You Like It,' II, vii

She swings kindly from joy to sorrow

Feels bad this day then good tomorrow

At times the change is by the hour

In rhythm: cower, flower, power.

She was walking along the seashore

When who passed by but the troubadour

Singing O Susannah won’t you come with me

And be my girl ‘til I leave once more?

She smiled shyly while thinking wildly

That she liked music put it mildly

Why go to school when handsome flirted?

She gave him her hand, said Marry me.

While wedding plans united the town

Beauty and Handsome traveled around

Serenaded markets, ate outside

Indulged their passion when lying down

Long story short, at the wedding feast

She mentioned a baby to the priest

Handsome leapt up and galloped away

Singing I see light shining in the East.

Her pregnancy was a false alarm

But she was too stunned to seek his charm

She gave up singing, went back to school

and humbly said He did me no harm.

She walks alone along the seashore

Thinking of when she loved the troubadour

Who sang O Susannah won’t you come with me