ayaz daryl nielsen
Three Short PoemsThe ballad of our hearts
endowing and inhabiting touching and melting two who have met taking the world in hand forgetting nothing forgiving everything embellishing salt-sweetness while turning love into ink. words for poems just appear in my mind, a mind of stored antiquities- genuine existence within one-sided conversations fools love everything seeing all that is hidden they just may be saints Three Short Poemsour rancher uncle
as the cancer advances I drive the pickup on a last outdoor errand checking on his newborn calves ‘the point being’ bringing us back to what we were trying to avoid vagabond scripture following only trail winds world-rough and renewed this eveningthis evening
cat thinks of cat light, drizzly rain spider web flutters from a corner of the ceiling a web I could remove, yet, was here with grandmother a web my grand- mother knew. . . so, just this cat, rain, and web the poetry of an evening We are all here, the houses are fullWe are all here, the houses are full
and as you enter our living rooms where you can see behind the faces all that will be, often, it makes you weep. further
unkempt words, joining
unfolding, becoming wayward byways of resilience, of heightened awareness, seemingly pursued to further resplendent byways beckoning from just beyond an everyday thought Close, sultry afternoonclose, sultry afternoon
a windmill daydreams of its rain-bowed multi-winged hero flitting, scrabbling dragonfly OtioseOften I go to the mountain
and lean against quiet rock quiet rocks that rose from the earth millions of years ago Again, a black brim hat for damp morning mist a quiet rock to lean against beneath aspen leaves among aster, columbine, pasque and penstemon Maybe there’s more I can do beyond what I have willed and may have accomplished Resting beside quiet rock that rose from the earth millions of years ago Plenty enough for this fine day. Now and ThenThe music has lasted since
women in green and a boy in baggy trousers, eternal spirits of a chainless mind, tread through the half-light of waves and blue winds and a sun rising and setting, of cheap seats with a good view, of wild horses, blue dragonflies, ristras, nutmeg sticks, a small shop under the stairs. Poets will never lie as they praise those whose music has lasted since the world began. And the music, it happens now and then. |
Five Haikuold wallpaper
the soiled and faded roses how to say good-bye ❧ how do I love you? both silly and serious and still unfolding ❧ earth is all tidy clean linens and dishes washed now let’s take a break ❧ the world’s steady hum her lovely beaches and slopes even garden weeds ❧ bring me upriver erase my grey hairs and thoughts tell me my story The days, so coldThe days, so cold
The nights, so long Another tundra wind from above timberline Wild geese and blue heron gone months ago, black bear, deep asleep Mule deer and elk hiding among pine and leafless aspen The clock ticks toward midnight The year ends Here, beside this glowing hearth you gently place your lips on mine The Tao of BrokennessA broken hub, thirty spokes
without a center The wheel couldn’t turn nor remain upright if it was to be used The clay pot with a crack across the bottom would just drip and seep, even if it was needed An old homestead without windows doors roof flooring or the people to claim it as home empty of emptiness because of brokenness non-existence from lack of usefulness each, in its isolation, an exhilaration a clarity the adventure of broken existence everyone, a neighborborn in the heart of
these Sand Hills on a remote ranch homesteaded by our Danish grandparents, life as cattleman and beloved uncle, sturdy friend of neighbors surrounded by all who loved him as a lifespan ends Uncle Arnold, you were what poetry is the bear in heavy furThe bear in heavy fur licks its lips and
dreams the taste of berries on bushes Wildflower seeds waiting below white- washed chapels of frozen snow listen to voices of wild geese and wood ducks carried within an early chinook wind Humbled, I pour a second cup of coffee, again renew my promise to keep the wondrous faith of this earth and my loved ones, and add a splash of cream. A memory as she crosses the streetunder heavy wool blankets in a
small mountain cabin teasing with her breasts ‘just try to say no to these - and to this’ as she lowers her lips and chill midwinter drafts couldn’t touch the fire of our long embrace Her stride is still long vibrant and confident I call her name, she stops we could hug and talk and then... cars honking We could walk each our own way... and yet... Our stride is long vibrant and confident as we move toward us as we safely cross As traffic begins moving again. |