Butterfly (for Lisa)
When you crawl into your hole
It’s not to hide
But a necessary part
Of your becoming.
Not every transformation
Takes place
In the pitiless glare
Of others’ expectations.
Rest and contemplation
May also feed
That creative spirit
To force the radiant colours
Out of that caterpillar’s
Cocoon.
“Out beyond ideas of
Wrongdoing and rightdoing,
There is a field.
I’ll meet you there.”
~Rumi
Liquid Persuasion
Beyond the gate
Of right and wrong
There is an arboretum
Where you will
Drape me in
Finest silks
From Turkestan
And seduce me
With your full-bodied,
Burgundy words
And Sauvignon ideas
Imported through
The ages with all
Their smoky allure intact
And their rich, seamless
Texture still fragrant
With blackberry and plum,
Cloaked in dark chocolate
And infused with
Sun-ripened currants,
And I will drink down
Your liquid persuasion
Until my palate is numb
And every cell
In my body glows
With the sanguine of you,
For you are both
Spirit-maker
And sommelier,
A rare combination of
Dry and sweet,
And I shall never lose
My thirst for
Union with you.
© 2008
Reference: Barks, Coleman, Translator, The Essential Rumi, Special Edition,
New York, Quality Paperback Book Club, 1998
Your life has twists and turns,
Like the way a coaster rides.
You hate to feel the burn,
Of the decisions you decide.
But, your conscience is in hiding,
From the alcohol you drink.
What’s the use in even fighting,
You use the drugs, and not the ink.
I’ve tried to help you so many times,
But you turn your back and run.
Even, Death and you seem to intertwine,
The only thing you want is rum.
Where is the writer,
Who used to accept the pain?
He used to be a fighter,
And could accept the fame.
That brave man, is now gone,
to something he despised.
His body never to awake at dawn,
but it’s his soul that will always cry.
The words he brought to life,
Seemed to glide across the page.
The happiness torn by strife,
Should have been torn by age.
The return to Baltimore,
Should never have transpired.
Just one step through the wrong door,
All at once, he left what he desired.
He wanted help, but no one ever heard,
His painful cry, his every word.
He was desperate, he was lured,
To the one thing that he heard.
Now, he is no more,
But the poems will be known.
With his remains left on the shore,
Forever…all alone…
Rat-a-tat…..
Rat-a-tat, tat, tat Rat-a-tat, tat, tat,
is the lonely sound of a small worn drum.
The sound is recognizable all around the world,
if you listen close, even you, will begin to hum.
Rat-a-tat, tat, tat Rat-a-tat, tat, tat,
one solitary beat, heard too many times before.
Solemnity to the soul, engrained in us forever,
melodic tune, with no smiles, on any foreign shore.
Rat-a-tat, tat, tat Rat-a-tat, tat, tat,
walking along, row by row, a sea of crosses white.
Many names, many lives lost before their time,
when will mankind learn, this is not our plight.
Rat-a-tat, tat, tat Rat-a-tat, tat, tat,
wiping off old dirt, wet sand, dried tears.
What would they have been, if given a chance,
we will never know, with them went their fears.
Rat-a-tat, tat, tat Rat-a-tat, tat, tat,
those who are long gone, their memories survive.
Families mourn, holding on to what they have,
teddy bears, folded flags, anything left alive.
Rat-a-tat, tat, tat Rat-a-tat, tat, tat,
children carry photographs, moms a broken heart.
Dads internalize tears, hold on to pride of service,
keeping what is left of family from falling apart.
Rat-a-tat, tat, tat Rat-a-tat, tat, tat,
many years, many tears when is enough, enough.
As a nation we fought hard, now grow very weary,
time is growing shorter, life is getting rough.
Rat-a-tat, tat, tat Rat-a-tat, tat, tat,
when all is done, from out the haze.
Smoke begins to clear, silence is all you hear,
but for the sound one solitary bugle plays.
“Day is done…..Gone the sun…..
From the lakes, From the hills, From the sky…..
All is well…..Safely rest…..
God is nigh…..”
Rat-a-tat, tat, tat Rat-a-tat, tat, tat,
is the lonely sound of a small worn drum.
The sound is recognizable all around the world,
if you listen close, even you, will begin to hum.
Rat-a-tat, tat, tat Rat-a-tat, tat, tat,
one solitary beat, heard too many times before.
Solemnity to the soul, engrained in us forever,
melodic tune, with no smiles, on any foreign shore.
Written by:
Karen Palumbo
3/5/2008 (c) All Rights Reserved
If
Only there were
Another opportunity…
Another chance…
To say those things
Left unsaid…
Perhaps it would
Ease the pain…
Lessen the guilt…
If Only
Daylight slowly fades from the window
And leaves the room in darkness…
Bringing with it a sense of despair.
Much like hope when it vanishes from a soul,
Leaving it to question…to wonder exactly
How and when life became so muddled.
But it is there the next morning, upon
Opening your eyes and witnessing the sun
Out on the horizon…
Another opportunity…
Another possibility…
– We need only to take notice –
We Observe…..
A day of celebration,
as a nation, we observe.
To all our brave,
who were and are willing to serve.Time to reflect,
think, take heed.
Do we know our wants?
In addition perhaps, our need.
Army, Navy, Air Force,
Marine, Special Forces.
Each does their job,
with very few resources.
Through summer heat,
and winter’s bitter cold.
Our brave men and women,
endure on, remaining bold.
Always keeping sight,
what they do, why they protect.
We honor our fallen,
all our lives as a sect.
Each travel the world,
leaving family, friends true.
Keeping all of us in their hearts,
and Old Glory’s Red, White, Blue.
Next time you go out,
look around, shake a hand.
It may be someone who served,
protected the USA, our fine land.
Have your parties, barbeque parade,
Remember why, you celebrate today.
All who came before and all yet to come,
will thank you, in their own Special way.
A Very Blessed and Happy Memorial Day
To All!
From:
“Inside Out, Upside Down and Backwards!”
Written by:
Karen Palumbo
5/25/2007 (c) All Rights Reserved.