10 December 2019

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.



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



04 December 2019

Embracing Cinder Blocks and Tires

Woman and Sunset
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



01 December 2019

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


27 November 2019

The Moses Paradox



File:Moses and the burning bush MET DP825141.jpg
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

25 November 2019

White, Red, Blues Fade


File:No 61 Mark Rothko.jpg
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

19 November 2019

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.


 (**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