Tag: Poetry

PENOBSCOT BAY PARTICULARS

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

1

what if the tide never turns
but waits to be submerged
in the next high tide
one after another until
the whole city is inundated?

sailboats would go under
on their moorings, perhaps still
rocking mostly one side
from perpendicular

the wharf and its autos
would mean nothing
while the moon ignores her orbit

2

masts sway
like speedometers

or gauges
missing their dials

3

a whirlpool, however large or compact
swirls within myriad currents
that knit the harbor

some talk of changing public opinion
or the incumbent party
but don’t reckon the vortex
swimmers approach
laughing to each other

any remorse
over their drowning
will ring hollow

3

while ducktrap is a fish
a store touts its Ducktrap Decoy

whether for some waterfowl or the fish
lingers in question

awaiting a retort
from Daffy, Donald, or Daisy

as for the fish? only silent
disdain

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set of seacoast poems, click here.

SUBMIT TO AIR CIRCULATING ALMOST

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

one bit of good news

remove debris and deport from one side
for her garden, relocating the piles
in shadowed cesspool, a bonfire, a second

live-trap a dozen spewing squirrels

the as-yet unspecified glade
even without feathered friends
concentrates on the emerging line and shape

a full-time task
regarding implanted hierarchy

“Your generation just doesn’t know
how to have fun” and delight in
thirst

out of the house and about
so you’d admit nearing release
nearing an island

with us, the race to plant bulbs
would always have a late start

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
For more, click here.

 

PRELUDE & FUGUE 46/

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

cruelty that arises from bitterness
spanning a rocky streambed

*   *   *

the Japanese bow to India
with its dry ferns and maple
with its fronds becoming a cob of ribbon

in the dry fronds of Japanese
ferns and half-devoured cobs
the Indian maples bow and dry

cobs of corn and fronds
in Japan the Indian bows
as the ferns and maple

dry fronds of Japan maple
cobs of Indian corn from
stepping down to the streambed

a staircase cruelly arises
from rocky bitterness, yes, a staircase
cruelty that rocky that bitter
from that staircase cruel, yes,
arises rocky and bitter

~*~

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see all 50 Preludes & Fugues, click here.

IN THE FACE

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

even when I preside
this matter of conducting business
troubles

words and more words
plus reflection
in place of action

called to be a community
exemplifying unity in love (Mark 9:50 and Ephesians 4:3-4)
yet how scattered we are
yet how often grieved

another report
to minute
for the archives

*   *   *

asked by a shining elder
“what are you willing to give up to follow a leading?”
I sputter

not my income
not my household
not my almanac

not again

yes, I’ve been trapped
waiting for the elusive breakthrough

*   *   *

waging peace calls for self-honesty
within
waging peace builds on moments
of rest and contentment
waging peace in the face of ambition

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set, click here.

TRIANGLE

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

the pack, as in cards or dogs
or the one after

Enigma Variations but it’s snowing
and there are no birds

finally, a female
cardinal

teapot and cup
beside a four-poster bed
with the long shadows of sunrise
on a plank floor

I love you truly madly deeply

mountain laurel and a Cigar Store Indian
unpainted carved wood

this relationship has changed

four State Supreme Court Justices, their backs together

a Portuguese woman
walking the beach with a TV set balanced atop her head
as the husband waves

leathery kelp as “cloven tongues”

the orderly farm in the Shenandoah overshadowed by two tall silos

nine pitchforks hanging in three rows in a shed
with two gasoline cans and four spades
on tool pegs

a map of Sturbridge Village

a pack of poets or painters or ex-lovers or actors or dancers
could be a loaded deck, all right, shuffled together
4-EVA

at the Hague, then Edinburgh
in the burning letters, her third line
how flat, stretched out under the sun

“Your crimsoning lips”

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set of Partitas, click here.

LATE AFTERNOON AUTUMN SUN

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

1

180-degree
sweep of ocean
seen from a cliff

great slow curve
of our planet

eight vessels
are barely
specks on this expanse

two seals so close
Rachel observes their features

“here I am”
the great breaking surf

2

toddler tracks
bird tracks
out for the show

car tires
looping over bicycle
beside shoe
gull, dog, and mouse
imprints in sand
leaving the parking lot

everybody’s
been to the beach

parasailing / surfing
weekend

3

Juan skirts New England
slams New Brunswick as a tropical storm

a danger of frost on Thursday
or we may be spared

by our proximity to the sea

4

moonlight

couples
entwined
on sand

man, we’re getting older, America
still ill-at-ease in this dwelling

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set of seacoast poems, click here.

PRELUDE & FUGUE 35/

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

red maple on gray rock against
vertical tan stripes
the pooling and hill

*   *   *

blue-eyed moth on yellow chopstick folder
star lilies against horizontal green striation
Chinese river scene, the coin inscribed
from a tickle-free zone of “Dried Dark Plums”

red maple on gray rock against vertical tan stripes
pooling under a blue-eyed hill of moths
over another yellow river, the Chinese “Dried Dark Plums”
held aloft on scenic chopsticks or inscribed coins

as folded red maple on gray rock against vertical tan
line up between the pooling and hill of star lilies
as horizontal green striation from a tickle-free zone
the blue-eyed river inscribed with yellow moths

as “Dried Dark Plums” are maple red on gray rock
against vertical tan striped pooling water buffalo work
in a wet field of chopsticks between star lilies open
against the blue-eyed horizon with its variations

as coins and moths inscribed in yellow Chinese
calligraphy, the tickle-free zones become a river scene
for a “Dried Dark Plums” holder of chopsticks
made from red maple in their tan stripes

as the gray rock against vertical pooling
toward the hill of star lilies and their horizontal
green striation from a tickle-free zone
water buffalo patiently work a field

~*~

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see all 50 Preludes & Fugues, click here.

BEYOND CONSENSUS

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

I’d gladly renounce any desire
to conduct holy business

if I had it

spare me, O Holy One, please

*   *   *

this session leaves me
a headache and troubled

this is not Gospel Order

look at this agenda!
and these to-do lists!
where’s the Sabbath?

our lives already so
cluttered and overbooked
before adding yours

*   *   *

always the responsible one
in a relationship
gets tedious or exhausting

let someone else
raise money, sweep the floor
change the dead bulb
manage the children

everything I would leave to Martha
while enjoying Mary

if only I could return to sleep, and dreaming

thank the treasurer
by writing a check, yes?

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set, click here.

TOO MANY, TOO MUCH

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

two horny squirrels on a tree

I hate cartoon slapstick … as for real actors …

The Dead See Squirrels

who know nothing of the next state nor the globe
their world branches endlessly, effortlessly
and is anything but round

the thistle feeder found in one of our coolers … ah! the safe place!

a girl named Bambi
sounds like a dear
or at least, a little fun

Snow White
lighting
a cigarette

a hummingbird in our herb garden
enough to make me think my sighting over the barn
was a goldfinch, but can they – do they – HOVER?

the fact our yard’s so full of wildlife pleases me
as long as the squirrel population’s held in check
allowing us a bumper crop of pumpkins and
self-seeded sunflowers

with binoculars from the deck, a goldfinch in a sunflower bloom
only to discover two more feasting in the same cluster
when one breaks away, she initially thinks the flower is taking flight

remove the pea vines and the cosmos and cabbage breathe a bit more

with the binoculars again, watching incredibly high gulls
moving east-west
and then, all alone, the unmistakable bald eagle
sailing south, not a single flap
to be lost to a cloud and then sun glare

how is it the eagle soared southward
while the gulls kept going east-west
before and after?
or did the eagle simply Trim Sails somehow
in the upper wind?

May, a profusion of birdsong before sunrise
September, a profusion of cricket fiddling after sunset
incessant, rapturous chorus

September, why so few birds singing?
May, why so little fiddling?

migrating geese sound like a squeaky floor

suet, downy woodpeckers tweet for each bite

in the pile of garbage bags, rustling
a skunk determined to rip it open by the back door
the colors reversed – a black stripe on a white body

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
For more, click here.