Alchemy

Posted on May 2, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

Takes this guy a while to finish a poem, but what a result…

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on peepers and ice booms

Posted on May 2, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

Spring comes late
where the ice boom holds
bloom until April

the song starts
soft, floats to kiss night
after sun’s setting

and there, unfolds
to full cry, open throats
singing the season

Backstory on the Niagara ice boom.

Posted in Collom lune chain | Tagged , , | 14 Comments

some days

Posted on May 1, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

Some days
the hours I spend asleep
wait for me to catch up,
sunlight tapping impatience
against the bedroom window
as I spin a long list of to do’s
that won’t happen.

Some mornings need
clamors around my knees,
tripping if I don’t look down,
toddlers that want now
and can’t wait for sleep to leave my eyes
to make them burnt bacon
and underdone eggs.

Some days need
a reset switch like this one,
but we don’t get to spin the planet
in reverse rotation to time the turn
to our wants.

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Day 30 self-cento

Posted on April 30, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

Worth skimming,
but I do not fear drowning.
and roller coasters.

it takes millennia to make anything
worked deep into spring soil
the way bears know it,
so they are smarter than us,
than any made rose
broken on pavement (even if the words
don’t rhyme)

What will set him off next,
in another 25 miles
deviled for lunch,

where I should see daffodils
under that yellow stone,
unfolding     at the core
until my eyes will open
and match its spin
over jetstreams like skipping rope

a tally of tears too fresh for counting.
are meant to go,
no matter how sweet that is      wise
kills everything of sustenance

Who knew warming could be so cold?
Shouting through frost,
stomping it flat.
I taste
sense of being
to grasp this less,
but no one’s telling.
it never left.
if you listen
and      can make sing
the shame/carried

rising from one mitochondrial Eve,
be prepared to get stepped on.

We did not know that America existed,
under the pillow, a smokeless burn.
Phlebotomy into common language
of a dancing plague.

.

**For day 30, I have made a cento, using the last lines of poems I wrote this month.
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intentional weeds

Posted on April 29, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

edible yellow
interweaving clover
small suns
tangle in forget-me-nots

stain feet dark brown
as cinquefoil grabs ankles

and there, wild thyme
low-slung oregano
scents  mornings after mowing

who wants a day
smelling only of orchard grass
no matter how sweet that is?

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Praise Sunday: Best Blogs (w/c April 28th)

Posted on April 28, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

I am completely thrilled that my poem was chosen for this post! Beautifully done, with excerpts, etc.

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lune(acy): A Collom lune chain

Posted on April 28, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

If I say
peepers chime new constellations,  danced
along the treeline,

instead of simply
sighing because  beauty breaks sweet
these spring nights,

blame the moon
for this clarity, my blood
spun into sound

that only perigee
can make sing.

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , , | 12 Comments