Day dreams

The gentle sounds of an acoustic guitar creep in

And brings its friendly message to a worldly wanderer

The brooding cello joins and swells;

Moody, but warmly content

Unapologetic snowflakes float and fall where they please

As high notes of a piano tickle his ears

Opera voices deepen his thoughts and take him away

Aperture

After erosion, a deep crevice remains
An arid wasteland surrounds,
Where tears flow, but do not nourish;
Logic is endangered here
Reason cannot triumph over Goliath-sized fears, lurking
A paltry self cowers in hidden spaces
Surveying the scene through wide aperture
Blurring the edges where the cacti may prick
Delusions that being an achromatic drone is safer, preferred,
To navigate from heart to mind
Vowing to let the extraneous turn to dust;
And to continue the odyssey

Self-talk (written Dec. 14, 2011)

Driving through crying eyes
Towards distracting pastimes
Knowing happiness is temporary
When your heart is this heavy
You'll face the dark again,
Sweet self,
until then, pray you abide

Fermented

Homogeneous, the soul is not,
Contaminants may surface
After being stirred
What has not been dealt with
Sinks to the bottom of the abyss
Waiting to ferment once again.
Facing a mass being more insurmountable
Than a slurry of rubble
Better to spread the hurt,
Break it into palatable remnants,
Boil them down, let the volatiles escape
Leave the gravities in the remains of the mind
And own them in every part of your being

Response to "Gravity"

I'm so excited! 

I wrote on a Psychology Today web article comment thread that was discussing grief and humor.  Read the article here.  http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/beautiful-grief/201107/twinkle-mirth-in-mourning  I shared my "Gravity" poem with author Cheryl Eckl, author of "A Beautiful Death: Facing the Future with Peace" and here is a link to my original poem and her comments:

http://braincloudmusings.blogspot.com/2011/07/gravity.html
(Background info - I lost my husband in April 2008 suddenly.  I am an engineer and new to poetry to help me process grief, but never considered myself any good at writing.  I was mentioning to her that maybe I should journal too.)

Your poem is exquisite.

"Her left hand weighs heavy with absent gold rings..."

So very powerful. I still look at my left hand or feel the absence of the gold ring I finally realized had to go...  I am convinced that the natural impetus to grieve and the natural urge to create are sister emotions that carry us through to whatever new normal eventually emerges from the process. For me, writing has been and remains my life-line.

You inspire me to become more poetic. I've needed to journal to gain more clarity. The engineers I know are very clear people already. To me, your poetry reflects a beautiful depth.

There are no "shoulds" in grief or creativity. Follow your heart in whatever mode it chooses at the moment. The key, as I have come to understand it, is to continue in the flow of expression because it is in that ongoing movement that we find healing.

Christmas morning

Java dreams wake me
Sparkly lights, mountains of gifts
Spell Christmas morning!

Corvallis

Grey skies misting down
On green mossy branches and
Kin forlorn and blue