29 January 2015

Found Nature

Image result for gender

Waiting to gender
Until sexed-self manifests
Without foot binding into other
Gendered shoes.

No broken
Stems in the garden
Of self-certainty and trust
No bonsai humans in family

Written in form for Tony's Meeting the Bar ~ The Cinquain … Expanded at dVerse Poets Pub.

Copyright © 2015 S.L.Chast

Lavender Two

The first music for lesbians
she could buy and bring home to hear
alone and in secret was (shh)
Lavender Jane Loves Women (shh)

But the first song was quite a shock:--
so tame and un expected—
to hear that the woman in her
life might be her!  She knew that—

Or did she?  Loving women meant
loving self as a woman, not
a requirement with her husband
who loved only what he valued.

But woman as woman and not
sex-object was not easy for
her either and R.E.S.P.
E.C.T. became her theme song.

That happened later.  This night—her
first night of lesbian vinyl—
she called the feminists she knew—
all three of them—to  join her there.

No more shhussshhing, only delight.
Loving women had been missing
from her world, lesbian or not—
and as it turned out, she wasn’t.

But loving women changed every-
thing: righteousness softened, hearing
differences and racism
followed, and conscious-nesses raised.

Hard to remember not to put
up walls and boundaries, not to
fear hearing another voice, not
to stop trying equality.

Lavender Jane loves women and
now she can marry her out loud—
the world continues to turn may-
be better than ever, better.

Inspired by Hannah's  Transforming Thursday/Friday with Nature's Wonders: Lavender fields at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.  See also Lavender One.

Copyright © 2015 S.L.Chast

Lavender One

Talking about my lavender—
Gardener's Hand Repair Cream,
essential oil for tension headaches,
under wear drawer liners and
messy woody bushes in the front yard,
(the ones that calls the bees) —
Don't knock it if you ain't tried it.
Telling me it’s an old women’s smell
telling me it tickles your nose—well
g'wan then and let it tickle
g'wan and sneeze--God Bless You

Let me tell you about my lavender
that the bees love so much—watch them
happily drink and drunken, wobble home.
They won’t sting you so full, but if they do,
this very flower will heal the wound
and calm your nerves.  The buds
is what does it, the pretty purple buds
that I use to extract the essential oils,
that I use to stuff the pillows against
tired eyes and anxious dreams and
restlessness that takes you wandering
far from me, young’un, far from me.

If it makes you think of an old woman,
let it remind you of me and the hours
we spent gathering sweet clover and
lavender honey, clarifying and spooning
it onto the bread we baked—a feast
for all the senses.  If it makes you think
of old women, think of the joys of a long life
to witness the changes of a century or so. 
This can be yours while lucid and mobile
if you remember to bring along fresh garlic
and the honey the bees give you,
bees covered, like me, in lavender.

Inspired by Hannah's  Transforming Thursday/Friday with Nature's Wonders: Lavender fields at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.  See also Lavender Two.

Copyright © 2015 S.L.Chast

28 January 2015

The Poet

The microphone’s shadow lay on her throat
like a pendent—amplifying her voice,
resonating the hall with her vision:

Row this boat with me, separating weeds
with our bow, slicing reflections of green
leaves that wave into their own bright mirror.

Stop thinking.  Stop talking .  Let your sound bite /
break through the looking glass. Let it rest on 
rocks under fish and frog eggs. Let it go.

She released her words into our dark eyes.
With sounds of water lapping the kayak,
we lift our paddles to enter quiet.

Copyright © 2015 S.L.Chast

Present Humor

From there to here, and here to there, 
funny things are everywhere.  ~ Dr. Seuss

I love how air puffs out on the first syll-
able, hue, humor, human, human-ness.

I love her slight smile while meditating
so delightful to balance, to ease pain.

I love the huge laugh of the newcomer
who hung out with us at last night’s party.

I love the voiced aitch in who what where why
which join how to spell curiosity.

I love knock-knock jokes because I must part-
icipate, asking Who’s there? and then Who?

I love finding an owl sitting above
because I heard it and then looked for it.

I love the slight differences of hoot
who and hue, feel which puffs more on your hand.

I love your company, how we can be
silly and lighten up each other’s heart.

Copyright © 2015 S.L.Chast

27 January 2015

Future Humor

How many poets does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
What’s a lightbulb?

Give me a dose of humor to cure the dis-ease
crowding me now that the shores are eroding and
annihilation is nie.  Satire has outlived
its purpose as correction is not possible,
though we could pause for a bit of absurdity.

It is ironic that we are not the first dead,
we who have destroyed the trees for books, firewood
and houses.  Funny that I tripped over elm roots
on my way home, ha-ha—ironic actually.
Pity that we haven’t more time to make language
more precise—you’d think that would be our first success.

Oh, look!  Little sister is trying a handstand,
bless her, and little brother is making faces!
They both collapse giggling and howling with laughter!
Collapse and howl.  No.  I don’t mean that. They lift up
each other’s spirit, animate each other’s face. 
Peals of laughter are joyous music to my ears.

And the breathing is full and deep through loving smiles.
I deliberately breathe through smiles to strengthen
my spirit for its journey beyond corporeal
reality.  This smile is catching, I see. It
circles the earth human glance to human stance.

We knock shoulders gently, and chips fall to the ground.
So many chips  (smile)  and blue chips and stocks and bonds—
not worth the paperless statements they circulate
on.  Amusing that.  Who would you rather be with
when abandoned on an world with nowhere to go?

Posted for  my prompt on the role of humor in your life (humor optional), at Poets United.  The prompt opens at 6am Central Time on Wednesday.  See also Present Humor.

Copyright © 2015 S.L.Chast