The Crane

 

The weight of the world

Like boulders immovable 

Holding you pinned

Frozen in place

Bone-crushing ache

Asking why between shouts

Of “fight your own battles”

As if lifting a shield and

Brandishing a sword

Didn’t require empty hands

When all you needed was 

Someone to help you lift

A Hollow Foundation

 

Relationships last for numerous reasons

Even those built on hollow foundations

Survive through feats of desperation

Afraid to let go and watch it all 

Just slip away into the tides downfall

Amidst cheers and jeers the siren call

Thoughts of love washed away

hiding evidence of the fray

In platitudes spiteful looks betray

Wishing for respite while waiting for the end

Calling secret meetings with a special “friend”

Exhausted from the endless game of pretend

Remnant Wreckage

 

While walking along the shore in Victoria, BC, I noticed the sand covered in driftwood, some pieces huge, like ships had just broken apart, so I took photos of the wreckage. The I saw a poetry prompt on “Tempest” last night, and it reminded me of this photo. Hence this poem was born.

Tossing in the wake

Strewn along the shore

Remnant wreckage

Of a love no more

The once mighty ship

Strength and tranquility

Danced along the landscape

A herald’s fantasy

The crew maintained her visage

Hiding cracks, withered neglect

Pretending all was well

As regard turned to regret

The fateful day the tempest

Came to test their fortitude

The fragile hull splintered

As the ship came unglued

Storm-tossed cross the sea

Found prone upon the sand

A warning sign to all

Of a relationship’s last stand

Blue Iceberg

 

I am so often fascinated by things that I see while traveling, and I use my photos of those things as the inspiration for poetry. This poem was inspired by this large iceberg we saw amidst all of the “tiny” berglets while cruising the Tracy Arm Fjord near an awe-inspiring glacier. It stood out for both its size and its color. Learning that the eye-catching color had to do with the density of the ice added to the allure.

Impenetrable density

Frigid features

Resting bitch face

A fortress for others

Trusted without trusting

Fortitude and aloofness

Constantly torn between

shining in the sunlight

and burying her pain deep

under the surface

Separated from the pack

Safety withdrawn

in a series of 

“I was hard on you,

so you could be strong.”

A beacon, a lighthouse

Blind leading the lost

Wearing trauma like armor

Earned, yet undeserved “strength”

a painful reminder

that she must protect herself

Outcast that never fit in

Wall flower

Constantly watching

the world swim by

Stuck in place

Held by the weight

no one ever sees

This poem was originally published on Medium within the publication Move Me Poetry on August 31, 2022.

Air of Sophistication

I took this photo while on our cruise. I loved the sophisticated styling of the area the lamp was found in, which reminded me of rooms I always pictured gentlemen from regency romance novels retiring to, and I couldn't help but feel how much pretense is found in such places. This poem is about pretending to fit in to the point of losing oneself to the guise.

Wine glasses clinking

cheap wine mimosas

Knock-off Gucci bags

carrying maxed out credit cards

Bargain basement pretense

clothed in second-hand design

Hiding in plain sight

at out of league events

Banishing self-deprecation

with an air of sophistication

Hoping the guise holds

Hometown forgotten

Name changed

Allure added

Pygmalion

Escape

Alone

Lost

The Matchstick Bridge: A Story in Haiku

 

While in Skagway, Alaska, we took a train ride up the mountain. One of the features of this stretch of track is a wooden bridge that leads into a mountain tunnel. Looking at it from afar, my heart began racing because of it's height and that fact that it appeared made of matchsticks. Obviously, the bridge held, and I was able to get this photo. As I listened to the guide's story of the train's origin, as a support for those prospecting for gold in the Yukon, and the bridge itself, I knew there was a poem in there somewhere. 

dreams of riches call

unprepared for wilderness

travelers perishing

gold rush to yukon–

train built for power and speed

men and provisions

the matchstick bridge—

angled and curved intricate

patterned triangles

built for endurance

ensuring safe passage through

last frontier landscape

miles above the sea

views of glacial waterfalls

pass between mountains 

across steep chasms

feats of engineering hold

withstanding pressure

Accessible Heights

 

I was walking down the street in Juneau when I happened to see this series of diagonal lines climbing the hillside out of the corner of my eye. I had planned to snap a photo of it anyway, but once I realized it was a ramp, I knew it would inspire a poem at some point. 

Life presents a series of stumbling blocks

Endless obstacles in our paths

Perpetually climbing, seeking

Seemingly unattainable height

Up stairs jagged, narrow, steep

Imposing boundaries that hold us down

Keep us from reaching, narrowing

Our options until we fit some mold

Pre-determining our destination

Before we reach the next level

Possibility clearing the way for more

Blinding us to our own potential

House in Ruins

 

We thought our house was sturdy

Until we cracked the foundation 

With our insecurity

Until we tore off the roof

With our pride

Until we flooded the living space

With our grief

Until we burned down the walls

With our anger

Until we tended the garden

With our neglect

Until we hid the ruins

With our embarrassment

At the Root

This poem was dually inspired by the photo and a writing prompt on Medium that called for a piece on the branches of the tree of life.

The branches are celebrated
For their food and their fruit
Photosynthesis their gift
But they’d be nothing without the root

The branches produce leaves
Providing shade from its shoot
Scented flowers also sprout
But nothing grows without the root

The branches spread wide
Giving the world a salute
On behalf of the noble trunk
But all respect to the root

The branches of one tree
An apple everyone’s pursuit
Promised knowledge or life
But both were buried in its root

Our family tree had few branches
Adorned with vines we’d recruit
Yet when grandma passed
The tree splintered without its root

The Meaning of Chasing Sunset

 

In the summer of 2015, mom and I embarked on a series of roadtrips, turned flights, turned cruises that would take us around the country and into others. The title of this blog, Chasing Sunset, came from our trip to the west coast where we tried multiple times to catch the sunset over the ocean and missed it in three different states. I said, "It feels like we're just chasing sunsets," and tears immediately sprung to my eyes, as I realized that is exactly what we are doing with mom. Mom's dream (bucket list, if you will), is to see all 50 states, and I'm doing everything in my power to make that happen. As of this posting, we have only seven left, including Hawaii.

The ironic part of this whole series of trips, especially the roadtrips, is that we really didn’t have time for much of anything, and yet we saw and did so much. From Niagara to New Orleans, all of New England, the UK and Ireland, the entire west coast, and everywhere in between, we made our way and took lots of pictures. That’s where this blog comes from--the sites, yes, but the moments and memories, and emotions that drive my poetry all mixed and mingled during this alone time (well, mostly alone) with my mom. I hadn’t had that in decades, and I didn’t know how much I needed it.

You may find an additional poem or two in here for special occasions, but I've now dedicated this blog to the poems inspired by the photos we've taken on these trips. They are emotional and imaginative responses to the photos, not necessarily a log of the trips themselves. That will sooner or later be a memoir.

Desert Games

 

Far beneath the clouds

In The Valley of mountains

Childhood games entertain themselves

Othello played on a sandy board

Jumping checkers left and right

As Pac-Man gobbles power pellets

Each a perfect circumference

Drawn with a Spirograph 

Medusa's Legacy

Children are to be seen and not heard

Women no different

Guilted into a life of celibacy

Of abstinence from all

Lest we be ostracized

By the gods and men

An anathema, 

Snakes hissing around our heads

Medusa, too, was a victim

Of the gods’ whims

Locked into a life of celibacy

Disfigurement the price of sex

Cursed to hide her form

Hunted and feared

Lust for her blood

Balanced against

Lust for her body

Rage coursing through her veins

Manifested in the glow of her eyes

The hiss of her breath

The rattle of her tail

That same rage runs through women today

Though the gods are silent

Man playing God guised in morality

Denying rights to all who might disagree

Cloaking their lust in black robes

Pointing fingers

Placing blame

Protecting their interests

Without taking responsibility

Forcing our disfigurement

For fear we might

Turn them to stone

Crimes Against Nature

Rivers cut deep

Through the heart of rocky boundaries

Delivering life-giving water

To sun-drenched deserts

From ice-capped mountains

As the natural ebb and flow

Of centuries pass unfettered

Dams built tall and strong

Capture the power 

of this natural cycle 

stifling its organic balance

Lines in the rock showing

The tragic decline

Of melted dreams

Leading to the sad trickle

Of Earth’s blood

While just around the bend

Shallows stories reveal

Humanities crimes again itself

While we pretend the Earth

Is too big to hurt.

Gilded Guardian

 

He stood a sentry

Armor shimmering in the sun

Out of place and time

Yet ready to face new days

He stood a beacon

Triggering imagination

Calling for adventure

Harkening others to his lair

He stood an echo

Clamoring sound of metal

In a desolate landscape

Singing distant memory

He stood a man

Gilded in mystery

Behind a mask of forgetting

Daring others to step aside

Bridging the Gap

A memory near faded

A monument of time lost

Leading back on the path

Like a breadcrumb left

A travel-worn road

A traversal of paths

Bridging the gap

Between coming and going

An unfathomable depth

An unsure traveler

Stuck on the outskirts

Searching for the pinnacle

A realization of triumph

A retreat forward-moving

Trip of a lifetime

Tempering past hurts

 

A gratifying relief

A glimpse of shared affection

Presence obscures pain

Patching fissures in miles