The Sweet Smell of Starting Over

18 Saturday May 2019

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

Tags

Bird Poem, Bird Poems, Bird Poetry, Birds, Death, Divorce, Eternity, Forgiveness, Freedom, Grace, Gratitude, Happiness, Hope, Infinite, Life, Longing, Love, Love Poems, Mercy, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Rain, Sacred, Soul, Soul Poetry, Souls, Spirit, Spirits, Spring, spring poem, Starting Over, Survival, The Universe, Unity, Women's Poems, Yearning

Even the stars are made of this:

sunshine & sweet petrichor.

What comes from above,

and we are made right,

our thirst, our life—

forgiveness,

after years of anger;

we finally feel love again.

The earth wreaks well of redemption,

grace permeates the dry ground.

And, the only sound we hear now,

birds,

who sing of starting over,

or, at least that’s what we hear,

like the smell of fresh water,

among grass, and clover:

sunshine & sweet petrichor.

A Refuge of Birds

17 Friday May 2019

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Birch, Birds, Family, floods, Grass, nests, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Refugees, Starting Again, Starting Over, Survival

Flood warnings, became flooded streets,
a gathering of mud, and other debris,
while in our yard, a branch broke,
from the old birch tree,
and in it, the grass nest,
a family of birds, now refugees.

And, I imagine them searching,
for a place to start again,
free of broken, flotsam dreams,
their past life, falling from this tree,
as the birch continued to bud,
and the grass continued to green.

Homes, Like Cathedrals

16 Tuesday Apr 2019

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

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Cathedral, Divorce, Family, Homes, Hope, Loss, NotreDame, Poem, Poetry, Survival

Loss, it leaves an open space,      
         a void
that can become a vacuum       
         or, it can heal.       

Loss, it can create chaos,     
        as homes, 
like cathedrals, 
        burn    
and we wonder 
        what will be left? 
to rebuild from the ashes.

Veterans of Dead Bones

09 Tuesday Apr 2019

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

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Death, Humanity, Letting Go, Loneliness, Loss, Love, Memory, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Sacred, Survival, Surviving

We are veterans of dead bones,
products of love, and its loss,
memorizers of last breaths,
and what letting go feels like.
The front line of memory gives way,
what we held in our hands,
dissolves, like water on clay–
muddy water, returning
to muddy ground, then dust;
it is a fate that awaits all of us:
empty arms, encircled of sacred air,
grasping at remnants
of what we valued there.

Things Poems Can’t Explain

08 Monday Apr 2019

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

aspen, Divorce, Hope, Loss, Love, Masochist, Metaphor, Pain, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Survival, Violence

I searched metaphors to describe you,
the aspen’s branches beating against themselves,
waving for help, like desperate arms,

but that was the work of the wind.

The coyote, who devoured all except the head,
and what appeared to be a shoulder
of our girl cat, and left her among the weeds,

but that was the work of hunger.

Then I thought, maybe the foal,
when they drove off with his mother,
her whinnying, more distant and more distant,
as he crushed his tender body against the rails,

but that was the work of love being torn away.

No, in the end, I came up empty explaining
your helplessness against self-loathing,
our loss of hope, and leaving,

but that, it seems now, was the work of surviving–
surviving the things even poems can’t explain.

You, Me, and the Spokane River

02 Tuesday Apr 2019

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

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Canada Geese, Cowboy, Freedom, Hope, Horse, Horse Poem, Horse Poems, Horse poetry, Horses, Life, Love, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Ravens, River, Soul, Souls, Spirit, Spirits, Spokane, Spokane River, Spring, Survival

We rode dirt and mud,

through standing water,

like ponds, to verify

the sun, and life

of returning things:

Canada Geese, wood ravens,

mule deer, grazing at dusk,

and the river, surging

with the spring run off

of our souls, singing.

Second Birth

29 Friday Mar 2019

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

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aspen, Aspen Trees, Beauty, Courage, Death Poems, Dying, Hope, Life, Love, Love Poems, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Soul, Spirit, Spring, spring poem, Survival, Women's Poems, Yearning

early spring,

a cold aspen, clothed

in soft buds, robed in white,

like ash, born of snow;

to touch her is to quake

with the anticipation

of a thousand leaves

desperate to unfold;

a thousand leaves

desperate

to unfold you.

For the Tulip Who Refuses to Die

07 Thursday Mar 2019

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Afterlife, Aging, Alone, Courage, Death, Happiness, Hope, Life, Loneliness, Love Poems, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Soul, Survival, Tulip, Yearning

Like the yellow tulip,

who blooms every year

in the pit behind our house,

who was dumped, long ago,

after her blossoms were spent—

yet, she screams, I’m still alive!—

every spring, among garbage

and weeds; like that tulip,

you don’t belong here.

A Miracle of Mended Bone

23 Saturday Feb 2019

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

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Coffin Bone, Cowboy, Desperation, God, Gods, Horses, Lame, Miracles, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Prayer, Survival

If you don’t have a hoof,
you don’t have a horse.
He was dead lame,
broken coffin bone,
leg extended out in pain,
as if imploring me to mend
his severed part.
Heart of my heart,
I can only offer prayer,
to the gods who love horses,
as much as we love gods to care.

Even the Seahorse

28 Friday Dec 2018

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Uncategorized

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Divorce, Independence, Life, Love, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Survival

An amicable divorce is the scariest kind,

because we prefer our American ones

be macabre—on the edge of killing

without actually killing—

like, she tried to run him over,

but she also tried to miss—

and it all worked out, because

he married his lover,

she married hers,

and each say they’re happy.

Brian told me—

Sometimes, divorce is a mercy —

and just like that

the church granted his annulment.

Gibbons, wolves, french angelfish,

shingleback skinks:

monogamous for life.

Even the seahorse,

whose males carry the young,

and sandhill cranes

with their unison calls,

commit to each other

and never look back.

Yet, tell me what the seahorse

was asked to forgive:

a lie, an indiscretion,

a we don’t love each other anymore?

I literally woke and found you gone;

twenty years later,

I still don’t miss you.

The Love I’m Talking About

19 Wednesday Dec 2018

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Uncategorized

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Tags

Love, Love Poems, Marriage, Passion, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Survival

We all deserve to be loved—

and when I say loved,

I mean desperately—

the kind of love that clings to you,

that winds you together with the sheets,

that says, when we die

we want to be placed together

intertwined, like this—

that knocks on the locked door

because your lover

can’t sleep without you—

twenty years is a long time

and look what you survived

to be here—

his arms wrapped round your chest,

hands, cupping your breasts

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Bits of Poetry

~ Linda R Davis, Raven of Peace & Poetry

Tag Archives: Survival

The Sweet Smell of Starting Over

A Refuge of Birds

Homes, Like Cathedrals

Veterans of Dead Bones

Things Poems Can’t Explain

You, Me, and the Spokane River

Second Birth

For the Tulip Who Refuses to Die

A Miracle of Mended Bone

Even the Seahorse

The Love I’m Talking About