"I have things in my head that are not like what
anyone has taught me..." - Georgia O'Keeffe
Tonight I walked into the sunset.
The words fly from her in whispers
like eagles winging
into the radiance of dusk-
a palette of colors painting her life,
fluent in the dialog of grief.
She casts herself wide across the faraway,
the land fragile as the bones of death
slicing sharply to the center of something
vivid and pure, wonderful in its contradictions-
something. . .
vast and empty and untouchable,
keenly alive. . . and knows no kindness
with all its beauty.
Here, she breathes the earth
and holds the sky with both hands.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2010
About this poem:
This poem is a tribute to the life of artist Georgia O'Keeffe, an incredible lady as well as artist. "the faraway" was the name of her home in the New Mexico desert where she spent much of her free time. When she died, they spread her ashes across the land she loved so much. I was honored to have had this poem nominated for the Pushcart Prize in 2004. Being nominated was a great honor.
Post Comment
turns
another corner
of tables and tricks,
chasing alley dreams
of drinks and fix;
another john
hustle, smile and wink-
my, how your boy
has grown taller I think.
not since Cleveland
but don't you see,
tomorrow's
another daddy
for this boy and me.
gotta go, gotta go
- sure been fun.
gotta go, gotta go
- watch me run.
stop that, boy...
don't you cry!
you're just like your daddy
I can see it in your eyes.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2010
Post Comment
We speak
their names into the sky,
across the void
we call out to them.
We seek signs
they have made it through-
to give us a word, some hint
of what happens
when we die.
They don't reply-
just stand in the shadows
and shake their heads at us.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2010
Post Comment
"When nothing is done,
nothing is left undone." - Lao-tzu
A pale moment breathes
an unvoiced song-
eternally repeating itself,
eternally renewed.
Formless as the sky,
light within light
whistles through the trees
filling earth’s chalice-
the emptiness inside
is all there is
of everything.
You look for it
there is nothing to see;
you listen for it
there is nothing to hear.
Draw near,
there is no shape;
observe it,
there is no ending.
When you use it,
it is inexhaustible.
You can't know it,
you can only be it.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2010
Post Comment
a few days ago
jesus spoke to me on tv-
a slick-devil he is too,
all pieced together in new italian shoes-
book and tapes to show the way.
to get straight, narrow
and clean up a stained lifetime
only costs twenty-bucks!
i mailed it in right away.
(what a bargain)
the bank called today...
seems i wrote him a bad check-
i feel guilty as sin.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2010
Post Comment
A slow rain seems to speak
a language of its own
across the geometry of our city,
its subtle change
of tone heard everywhere-
in the way
despondent pigeons
begin to slump on windowsills;
in the shudder of black lampposts
as November's thunder
reverberates
in cool afternoon fog;
in shivers of leaves
bleeding from skeleton-trees
onto empty sidewalks;
in quiet sighs of October
drifting down the river-
in the silent ways we slowly
came to an end without goodbye.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2010
Post Comment
This is a list of mmichaelm's Poems. Click here for mmichaelm's Poem List
mmichaelm Poetry (18)