IT'S OKAY TO BE BROKEN

Photo by S. Auberle

she loves foggy days

they way they still

the clamoring

how they enfold her

and kiss her hair

she thinks it's okay

to be broken

on a day like this

when the sky

is only a dream

good to let fog

wrap her in velvet

whisper small secrets

like a mother to her babe

forgive all those dark things

she never meant to happen...

~mimi

SOUP 'N SUCH

Photo by S. Auberle

SOUP AND SUCH 

If I had my druthers, I’d do just two things every day:  write poetry and make soup…a dark brown lentil soup for cold, rainy days, with enough fire to heat you;  bean soup--to remember my mom who always put ketchup in her bowl of beans;  Granny’s Cabbage Patch soup because I love the smell of simmering cabbage and onions; and about a hundred others.  I’d be writing poems like crazy, for all that soup would inspire them and I’d stop now and then to have a bowl, slice some good, yeasty bread that smelled of sun and earth.  I’d butter it thickly and pour glasses of hearty red wine, invite someone, now and then, to share, then shoo them away and write some more, till all the words and soup had run out.  Suddenly, I’d notice the moon, and you, waiting patiently for my fever to subside, and finally, I’d stop.  You would still be there, reading a book, sipping wine, stoking up the fire, and at last, there would be nothing else but to lie down beside it, and write poems all   over   each   other   all   night   long.
~mimi

Photo by S. Auberle

HERON IN WINTER

I saw her today,

blue on blue on blue

ice, sky, bird.

She was stepping slowly

onto the frozen pond,

and how, you may ask,

do I know the bird was female? 

It was just a look,

a topknot of feathers

ruffled in the cold,

the way she stood so still

as I passed near.

There seemed a connection

(a poet’s fancy, no doubt)

of eggs and nests and nurture

a connection in the season

when bird and woman

must leave safe ground,

step out onto that place

where our old faces

shine back at us,

new and full of light,

though we feel unsure

but strong, because

it’s what we have to do,

sometimes, to survive.

The sky is a mirror

beneath our long legs

but oh, beautiful sister,

where will you sleep tonight?

~  mimi

an old favorite from Crow Ink...

JUST BECAUSE

Photo by S. Auberle

IN THE WAITING ROOM

I don't understand why, but Blogger will no longer allow me to post images, or they've changed the process to be impossible to figure out how.  At any rate, if I can't post images on my blog, I'll be moving to another site and starting over, because I must be able  to include visuals or it's simply not the same.  After almost seven years on this site, maybe it's time...so here's a new poem...

IN THE WAITING ROOM

The door groans open

and in they totter--

he on bent, wobbly legs,

she cautious, in a red blouse,

her hair like April snow

flying in every direction at once.

He announces we're here

for Rose's blood pressure

and the receptionist smiles,

everyone smiles, even me

who's grumpily waiting

for yet another remedy

on how to patch up aging bones.

They fall into chairs

across the room

and laughing, Rose says

oh you've worn your yellow socks

and he displays them proudly.

Well that'll stop the clock, she says

while on the wall above us

time ticks relentlessly away.

okay, so my photo finally got published, though not where I wanted it to be, and frankly if this doesn't get easier to post, it's adios amigoes!