June 2024
Bio Note: Feeling very raw and vulnerable in these turbulent times. We seem to find ourselves on the brink of so many disasters. Balancing that, somewhat, I am on the brink of seeing two more books I wrote come into the world. Writing poetry, and poetry community are the lifeboats I grasp onto (that, and the trees and flowers, bees and birds, all starting to buzz with Spring).
This Year Peonies
I’m viewing the Peonies
differently this year.
Almost hostile; in-your-face
too fancy for their own good.
Almost nasty those garish ruffles
blaring pink, or white; too many petals
all flouncing out at once
like dancing petticoats.
No sense of reserve or making space
for others. No holding back, giving room
to feelings which may be tender; delicate;
in need of quiet and a solemn realm
in which to process sorrow;
maybe wallow a bit in the harsh aftermath
of a loved one’s drawn-out demise.
The hard-fought journey a struggle
full of trials and tribulations.
And now is a time for stepping lightly;
for wrapping the quilt up close,
seeking quietude and solace.
Shoring up for those arrows of piercing pain
that come sailing when missing,
and the finality of loss sink in.
Peonies, I’ll pass you by
and not linger in the scent.
Not this year
when your beauty is a bit more
than I can bear.
May it Morph
Grey fog today hangs,
as it has for days,
in and around the trees,
over the river,
a clothes-pinned sheet
filling in spaces,
softening boundaries,
uniting all in shared cloaking
—our nebulous blanket.
May it morph into an opening,
allowing new light through.
May a way be revealed
away from strife.
May we be led to a life
authentic, true, eliciting
what is best in us.
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to say what it is about the poem you like. Writing to the author is what builds the community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -JL