life – Gwen's World

January 9, 2022

HAPPY NEW YEAR – 2022

January 3^rd and the Sharp Shinned Hawk has returned to the feeder

Dropping into the cedar bush waiting for an old, slow dove

But it’s the red squirrel who drives my husband crazy

Rick and his wife Judy have taken a winter

Residence in our walls. Their bedroom quarrels

Legendary in the ceiling above my husband’s office.

I know the nights have been rough when I lay abed

Long into the morning stirred from slumber at the loud mutterings

Of my beloved below

“Fuck you, Rick!”

Yes, from the man who marched under his

banner of long hair

Fighting for a hopeful harvest for the world

Fighting against ugly forces intrinsic in warring hearts

My peace man

The silhouette against all those night fires

Set to capitalism

Arms always raised in righteous revolutionary anger

Never in surrender

Now sits at his desk perusing

The hopelessness in today’s headlines

Wishing the Sharp Shinned Hawk

Took prey larger than the dove.

G.D.F. 1/3/22

July 17, 2020April 15, 2021

PANDEMIC POLITICS

What is there to make the heart swell

Against those ungovernable desires?

Wars; showdowns at

The corral

The jungle

The beach

The half-learned lessons class

The thin stream of info-wire

Signifying new battlegrounds

Sneaky. Anonymously mean

And wrong

Stabbing at our rucksacks

Full of unused Gods

•

What poetry can hold

What it can’t

Anger controlled

By rhyme or meter

Impolite bluster

Baroque or scant

Edgy words on pages teeter

Sweet noises overrun morning thunder

Evening song diminished in

Skeins of days torn asunder

•

May November carry our souls

From a hell lined with poetry stole

From that Shredded Parchment,

Now lying in confetti baskets,

To be strewn in ignorant rapture,

Over brides, babies, and caskets

May 2, 2020April 15, 2021

STAYING POSITIVE WHILE STARING AT THE BODY COUNT

Venting frustration

Failed attempts at normal

But normal, escaped, is now

Free-range

Arranged on social media

With intermittent WTFs

I’ve overheated

I’m angry

It’s Florida

Housework –

I’ve ironed clothes that wrinkle

Wishing life and virus could be

So smoothed

A Grocery run –

New hunting and gathering ritual

Homemade masks to protect

From the angry uncovered faces

Staring at my NY plates with disdain

As if my name were Wuhan

Rather than Hot Mess

With five-o’clock wine

I watch the sunset

Tossing its diamonds

Upon the waters of Newfound Channel

Week five:

Quarantined in paradise

April 3, 2020April 15, 2021

ON BIG PINE KEY: QUARANTINED WITH WORDS

My words,

They’ve marched in on dreams,

Printed conversations with those

Who’ve mastered their form

They’ve fallen from my tongue in hailstorms –

WTFs after reading NYT’s homepage

Today, I am stuck at the intersection of

“If only” and “Where to now?”

30 minutes ago, over coffee and sunrise

I knew where I was going

Now, not so much

We walk the dog

I look for the cardinal who had

Been singing his bright red song

For weeks now

He’s gone – beating the lockdown

Finding a mate who loves his music

But I am still here

Quarantined in paradise

Wrestling with each letter

Clanging demands

Words; unheard cries

Unraveling the earth

Before it dies

March 20, 2020April 15, 2021

Aisle 17 at the Big Pine Winn-Dixie

I walk the aisle in awe

Stripped of bum-cleaning supplies

People fearless of bums rubbed raw

Toss in single and double-ply

Stocking up in preparation

For coronavirus’ hit

When needed is just separation

And reliable testing kits

Don’t tell that to these locals

Who’ve survived Irma’s rage

They’re more apt to get real vocal

And war they’re willing to wage

So I am quiet as I judge

The woman who’s caught my eye

As she swipes the last Scott Tissue

Both single and double-ply

I’ve pondered such movements rarely

Overreaction — I guess is fine

But by the time I get to dairy

I turn and head for the wine

March 4, 2020April 15, 2021

SCATTERED GRACE: On the Camino

Camino shadow copy

February 15, 2020April 15, 2021

THOUGHTS FROM THE CENTER RING

It is inaccurate to say that I hate
everything. I am strongly in favor
of common sense, common honesty,
and common decency. This makes me
Forever ineligible for public office. H.L. Mencken

I’ve written about my perception of decency and, it appears, I am writing/preaching to the choir. My friends feel as I do.

As for people who see things differently there seems no “healthy” debate available to them. So far, it’s all been name-calling and put-downs. People who want healthy debate, it appears, are having that debate somewhere other than on social media. And, honestly, I’m not so sure decency should be debatable. Aren’t there are rules already set for what is decent in a democracy?

There are recognized standards for decency. There is the recognized standard of what is proper and in good taste. And we live in a democracy in which our representatives are expected and elected to adhere to a certain standard of decency. I find it difficult to understand those who support elected officials who fail to follow even the faintest path laid out by (what used to be) our collective decency.
In 1954, as an amazed television audience looked on, Boston Lawyer Joseph Welch – after one of his associates was accused by Joseph McCarthy, of having communist ties – responded with the immortal lines that ultimately ended McCarthy’s career:

“Until this moment, Senator, I think I never really gauged your cruelty or your recklessness.” When McCarthy tried to continue his attack, Welch angrily interrupted, “Let us not assassinate this lad further, senator. You have done enough. Have you no sense of decency?”

What has happened to our collective sense of decency? When did it become okay to be cruel and reckless with the lives and well-being of American citizens and other people around the world?
Where is our sense of decency?
This is a question that should haunt us because the answer will certainly define us as we move forward.

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

What is that time called

Just before sleep fully takes over

When the night-mind, in acid-etched clarity

Lines up the day’s matters

Forcing them to kneel in pain’s shadow?

What is that time called

That sounds its claxon for battle

Swinging the Damoclesean sword

Slashing away

The nubile dreams of the innocent?

The time just before being delivered

To the mercy of that clamor

Accompanying the onset of dreams

That time when heart and brain come

Together each with its own music;

Sharps and flats dueling for supremacy

Offering a clarion call sometimes

So lovely as to be taken as anthem

Shepherding the heart

Through sunsets,

Births,

Deaths,

Success,

Failure;

The basic drawing-and-quartering of life.

What is that time called?

Share this:

Like this:

Venting frustration

Failed attempts at normal

But normal, escaped, is now

Free-range

Arranged on social media

With intermittent WTFs

I’ve overheated

I’m angry

It’s Florida

Housework –

I’ve ironed clothes that wrinkle

Wishing life and virus could be

So smoothed

A Grocery run –

New hunting and gathering ritual

Homemade masks to protect

From the angry uncovered faces

Staring at my NY plates with disdain

As if my name were Wuhan

Rather than Hot Mess

With five-o’clock wine

I watch the sunset

Tossing its diamonds

Upon the waters of Newfound Channel

Week five:

Quarantined in paradise

Share this:

Like this:

My words,

They’ve marched in on dreams,

Printed conversations with those

Who’ve mastered their form

They’ve fallen from my tongue in hailstorms –

WTFs after reading NYT’s homepage

Today, I am stuck at the intersection of

“If only” and “Where to now?”

30 minutes ago, over coffee and sunrise

I knew where I was going

Now, not so much

We walk the dog

I look for the cardinal who had

Been singing his bright red song

For weeks now

He’s gone – beating the lockdown

Finding a mate who loves his music

But I am still here

Quarantined in paradise

Wrestling with each letter