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LJW Jul 2013
Is obviously unsolved to this day.
Is a heavy blizzard subject to drought.
Is a crater in the ground launched into space.
Is the lowliest temperature in a dance hall fire.
Is said to help stem the spread of ceasing to exist.

Critics call it the finest film ever made.

by Rose Linke
This poem is written by Rose Linke
LJW Mar 2020
I already feel dead,
not because of the virus,
rather because of my grey hair
I refuse to color over to
hide the white of my nature.

I am poor, I wasn't poor
until I was lied to and stolen
from. Now I am pitifully poor.

I need to rebuild, but I am old,
I am weaker, I limp, I sag, I
have no youthful beauty, I have
nothing to attract anyone to care about me.

I am terrible at the job I
choose to attempt as a second career. I
might lose my job and become penniless
and homeless.

There is no one who wants to help me.
You can read the progress of my life here...
I was not always this sad, there have been happy
moments in my life,
when I was young.
LJW Nov 2015
Yoga is the union with God,
God is love.
I believe in Christ,
a word not often spoken on the mat.

The pain and agony of sin
tears at our souls and brings tears of suffering.
Ahimsa: Thou shall not ******.
Satya: Thou shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.
Asteya: Thou shall not steal.
Brahmacharya: Thou shall not commit adultery.
Aparigraha: Thou shall not covet.

    You shall have no other gods before Me.
    You shall not make idols.
    You shall not take the name of the LORD your God in vain.
    Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.
    Honor your father and your mother.
It goes deeper,
not even to think a harmful thought, or wish a harmful deed.
Not even to steal an extra moment of someone's time,
Or lie to yourself about how happy you are.

Lift the sin, lift the illness, lift the suffering.
Like a miracle disease is erased once the lie leaves the room.  
God, Christ, watches each moment,
every breath,
each half of a thought
we just made.

A breath of prayer and honesty
lifts the veil we hold in place
over our eyes.

Careful not to lower it too fast all over again.
LJW May 2014
beyond the measure of any cure
sits my pleasure of sought after
dreams delighting in roaming with your
grace filled presence in city adventure
or sat at a table shedding quiet tears of adoration from afar.
LJW Mar 2016
A frozen house stilled mid life,
while the lives within shed
blood from a tear mid stride.

hearts stopped beating,
loving strokes suspended mid brush,
her dappling with the voice of another
pulled her love into adultery's pouch.

his seduction cloaked in friendship,
his lie of never leaving,
his deception of his true nature,
he could have known he would never love her.

her home barren of noise of family,
empty, gutted, a winter's frozen shell,
she will lie now in the out lands upon the ground,
freezing alone, unforgivable, a harlot, wishing, hoping for death.
LJW Jun 2014
shadows of people I've known before
I see you all again
here upon this blanken sheet
carving upon words
with tipp-ed hats
I've seen you before
I'll see you again
it is SO good to see you!

I'm glad we've met in this version here
you are that much nicer now!
LJW Jul 2014
A lane of Yellow led the eye
Unto a Purple Wood
Whose soft inhabitants to be
Surpasses solitude
If Bird the silence contradict
Or flower presume to show
In that low summer of the West
Impossible to know -
short powerful poems...
LJW Jun 2014
holding a tragedy lie between
nervous hands glancing as
my eastern sun bombards
this sierra western *****
plummeting veins solar
caging my fragile wrap
boiling my lungs while I
cradle a tragedy lie.
LJW May 2021
You don't know how this feels.

Most probably
there are people at your table
fighting over puffs of corn
or raging pink and blue rings of sugar laced

You might be wrapped in an embrace now,
a man creeping up behind you
smoldering a fire between your shoulders with his lips.

Or your mother is smashing beans or broccoli,
your father is relaxing in front of the news,
or sweating after a day of work.

Perhaps, your friends are calling to invite you out to play.
LJW May 2021
The child remembers my failings,
so much so he separates.
The day he disembarked from the bus,
leaving me in my seat,
doing what he was told.

I can't even say if he turned around,
to wave. Was he scared?
Off he wandered,
on his 10 year legs, into town, alone.

Did anything traumatic happen to him that day?
Did he cry because he had noone with him?
Does he hold resentment from being left
to fend for himself
the entire day?

A small child
with no one to watch over him.
So much so
He doesn't care
to know me?
I wish I could go back in time and grab that little boy, and redo that whole time in life. What was I thinking leaving my young son spend the whole day alone in the town park as I took the bus on to work. I know I didn't have anyone to turn to, or I thought I didn't, and I had to work so we could find a place to live. But I can't imagine how scared he might have been.
LJW Sep 2018
A prayer for today. Bless you. May Christ give you the lessons in this day that might guide you further into his grace. For all of us, may we learn from our struggles and trials, and know that among those who sing with poetry, our souls are heard by our brothers and sisters in Christ.
Sept. 29, 2018
LJW Aug 2018
46 yrs
August 16, 2018
LJW Jul 2013
Autumn crept in without word or a doubt.
It slept all summer, or so they all thought.
Really it traveled round trees and plains,
To find it’s real home among the oak laden trails.

Never did it speak only scent told its tale.
Cool acorns and apples growing fast for the cold spells.

Slow seems fast when a chill rolls by                                                      
during a late summer swim on the river rock slide.                                  
The children looked round, then heard a school bell.                        
They knew the call flying through the pine trees as they screamed,
“Hurry, Hurry, only one more time!”

Round the death and dying came,
the end of young summer into a lady.  
The end of girls and boys for all.  
Into proper gentle children
dressed in sweaters and tightly rung curls.  

August 10, 2011
LJW Mar 2016
Back into the dark where I am undiscoverable left nightshade cloaked,
no stone turned,
no bell rung,
no tree carved,
no hammer swung.
No strong man,
no whipping post,
no beat down,
no anniversary toast,
no smart ***,
no sassy *****,
just floating now,
alone, alone, where I've put myself.
To find God again, to find God again.
LJW Jul 2018
Lost to the tides swept out,
all the days in California
loving the forests, knowing the prospects
of opportunity that waited for me around every corner.

Life could happen, all my dreams lived there.
The ocean rolled out towards Japan
We rose last and stayed up later
the countryside rolling out between each of us
there was room to breath and be happy in our nature.

My home, my tiny corner,
my clean pine bench and sweet drop-leaf table,
my wicker chairs with linen-covered, feather-filled pillows
padding the seat.
Gone now. Gone.

And where am I? Far away in a land that does not want me.
There is no sunshine here, there is no hope.
There is no health here,
there is no love.
Only ageing and death to follow.

Will I fall down in failure here?
Unable to hoist the weight of any task,
inept at thinking, speaking, answering.
Tick Tick Time
Tomorrow's answer will arrive.
LJW Oct 2015
Pleasure is for the beautiful,
while with ease of face and blessed body
they float, flow, slink, and slow grace.

Puritan rigor and worked hands
for comely folk.
Thick of stock in legs and waist,
face puffed, fattened cheeks, folding in upon itself.
Grown into a gross excuse
fitted only for hard labor.
Barely surviving.
LJW Jun 2020
Empty nest of twigs broken
against arms holding,
reaching, straining to take back
the damaged days burnt under
a sunlight.
the beginnings of a collection of poems on the phases of motherhood
LJW May 2019
Springtime awakens the concerto of fliers,
fluttering awake, rejoicing in their strength,
They sing to sound the morning and life itself,
calling through thin airs, while the cicadas sleep,
dominating the cathedral with their sunrise choir.

And you, as you rise, are showered by their concert.
May 20, 2019
LJW Jul 2014
I love your voice,
your smile,
your lower lip,
so **** when it's thinking
just relaxing waiting to
pounce in daredevil

I love your skin
the color it turns
after sunning, reddish
burn, like your hair,
your beard.

I love how you tolerate me
the devil, the nag, the sad
doll, unhappy, discontent,
searching, demanding.

I love being with you and
being the one who gets to
touch your strong arms,
flexing with work, always cut,
how do you get that way
with no fitness?

You are July, you are
what the summer was
waiting for.

How lucky I am,
to spend my days
near you, coming home
to you, curling next to you,
you let me kiss you, these
are treasures I will carry
all my life.
LJW Nov 2015
Black 5,
Phone dead.
No lines,
Whispering winds.
Kittens on the table,
The world still spins.
Black 5,
Phone dead.
LJW Sep 2015
Frozen, crazy, sprawling on the floor, drunk, forgotten, wasted, slobbering, stabbed and stapled, whining, cluttered, contaminated, stolen.
LJW Apr 2016
Our friendship was born dead.
Born into offenses of the flesh.
Birthed within burning hearts
crying for a tiny fragment
of the tastes
of our young days.
Days bound in sheets
scented and flavored by love making.
April 19, 2016
LJW May 2014
bluing beneath
my hands brushing over
warm Caribbean bathing salts
at dusk.
LJW Jul 2014
Cannot be extracted when during meditation
liberation is gained thought becomes more
They do not see society. Unfortunately, Shankara's own
loss to a nation, transcendental consciousness the
becomes greatly overshadowed.
LJW Feb 2021
There is a hope in our children
when we birth their tiny hands
waiting for them to make their
first markings.

They are bluish, cloudless skies and
miracles, like magicians
out of thin air
waving wands coaxing
a future mother has been
dreaming of.
c. Feb. 27, 2021
LJW May 2014
it seems like I
will never be rid of
my feelings for you even if
I should.
LJW Nov 2015
In order for our voice
to work properly,
our heart
must be spinning
while simultaneously
our mind
has clear vision.

All the while,
our will must possess
enough force to push truth
through so as to connect
the song of our life.
Then, God too might even listen.

LJW Sep 2015
Monday morning
kitten climbs
cloudy sky.
LJW Oct 2013
Tonight I wander through yellowing pines
through days of autumn while I
am twenty nine dancing drunk on northern Cali
wine, cold, wet, between an angry coast and
the moss on ancient tree groves.

Dancing like a Dervish in my crinkled cotton
gauze skirt tickling at my naked ankles and
washing my dirt covered feet.  

Hair wet from misty air, curling and dripping
he stares at me, mesmerized by some magic
that does not exist. It is only me 'neath the moon.

He wants to be in love with a freedom that has no
place near me.  I mean entrapment, commitment,
ownership, caged.  

If he holds me, I'll want him there forever and ever,
that will never change.  He should not want to leave if
he walks through my door.  Keep walking if you're only going to
walk out.

He does, he smiles, laughs, drinks, then, as I'm turning
one more spiral, he falls into the dark and walks on
to a woman who will let him love her for only a
fraction of a lifetime.
copywrite 2013 Lisa Jeanine Winett
LJW Oct 2018
This tide sweeps over me
until I no longer want to live.

despair invades every breath
until I agonize over the pain of
going through each day alone,
walking over dandelions, watching
children sing,
spotting young men and women
while I have only known rejection.
October 2, 2018
LJW May 2014
to fast
I  ran to the
sun as I hurdled the
pits dug for young ladies to small
to dare.
LJW May 2016
within a year they will be as thick as thieves,
elbow interlocked with elbow,
whispering in hushed tones,
hearts interwoven so their laughter becomes one great explosion.

divine grace moved them into one.
from my seat thousands of miles away
I listen to the patter of their new found friendship,
grow, grow, in this sunny day.
He paces in his tiny office, counting the minutes,
gaging if it might be a respectable time to call.
Is her mother okay? Perhaps she must tend to mama.
They are both up late in the wee hours of the night/day,
They share the same life.

They might begin by bickering,
then he will quell her with his need to connect,
he will placate her, explain how he is fair sided,
he sees logically, he sees the Truth with a capital.

Is she still on the side of the psychics? The healers?
Will she bring to him what I brought, only in a sweeter wrapping?
Red rather than Black.
West rather than East.
Or has she cast that away, a relic of her younger days, and now she too has found what he sees. On the Eastern Shores.

This day, they share this day.
I too wait in these hours,
I heal the open **** he cut in my life,
my person, who I am and what I know.
Suture here, stitch there, cry my story until my blood dries.

This sun we all three share, this air, this breath.
All three of us here, in the heat of this day, together at once.
Will she tell him in uncertain words what I had tried to show him?
Will the same healing energy, spirit, power come through her to unite the world for him? Will he find the love he thought was not alive in me?

In me the energy faded, the spirit was dead, for why?
The shade of my hair?
The tone of my skin?
Yes, yes, it is as simple as that.
LJW Sep 2015
Cat sticks in the thicket deep.
LJW Oct 2018
That you are able to say anything you want
and our actions will determine
our metal?

Satan uses people too you know,
how do I know you are not filled with his grace?

Is God silent
while Satan plays his chess?

I don't want it to be true,
but if you are a brother,
why am I struck down by you?

Why are you here in my place?
Why could you not keep
a kind moment kind
and our lives at rest?
LJW Aug 2018
Before time began I had no name
nor face, nor home
I needed no future, nor plan
no clothing.

only skin with sand blown against
the rough dry surface, tan, dusty.
desert worn. Earthened.

The days promised to carry on without end,
I never aged, never grew old
the silver in my hair fit.

I could climb the sierras, scale rocks,
swim the American river if I wanted to.
Men and women smiled at me.
I had beauty.

Time steals, and now I only wish to make peace
so she might return my aim towards grace.
So my silver might return,
so the sand of my skin might roughen me
into a well worn woman of the hottest day.
August 30, 2018
LJW Sep 2015
My tired gray hair destroys zeal.
LJW Feb 2014
nothing to say with nothing to do
on a day when all that i've heard
reminds me of lies told to me in my youth.

Rocks fall into our laps without
tearing one thread of our lives or futures,
money will fall and grow from trees

Men love larger women and thin ladies
struggle more than we are told.

Beauty is more than skin deep and different than in the eyes of the beholders,
although beauty has no consistency and anything can be beautiful.

Risks and amazing lives wait for us all, waiting for us to open the door, call our agent,
answer a casting call, play our drums.

Do anything you like, it will be the right turn,
all I've heard today were echos of lies.
c. lisajeaninewinett 2014
LJW Mar 2019
It was the quietest day of the year
when I discovered I knew nothing at all
except the loss of everything dear and knew then
it had been all my fault.

Without thought or time to think I'd wounded
every last one. Because I had no filter to speak
of, and I thought people were made out of stone.

Not so, as it turns, we are flesh, mostly flesh
with very little bone.
LJW Apr 2016
It's so easy to lose faith in God
when the men and women who
preach so vehemently
stab knives into your heart,
call you less than worthy.

What was it that made me
so wrong? So less than them?
Was it my Jewishness,
my heritage,
my still learning even from them?

What I learned was they can
hate, wound, laugh at, destroy,
throw a human away.

Why?  Because I am not famous enough?
talented enough?
well known enough?

What does Christ think looking down?
Should I instantly forgive? Even though it makes me feel like dying?
Does Christ instantly forgive them?
Even though they twisted me around
so tightly I didn't have time to learn fast enough?
Will they do it again to someone else?
Would they do it again to me if I gave them the chance?

Why did they even want to walk through my door???
What did they think they would find here?
Why did they get so angry when they didn't get what they needed?
Why didn't they just go in peace?
LJW Jul 2014
And more than echoes talk along the walls.

'Tis education forms the common mind. Just as the twig is bent, the tree's inclin'd.

I am his Highness' dog at Kew; pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?

Blessed is he who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed.
LJW Jul 2014
A Lame Beggar
I am unable, yonder beggar cries,
To stand, or move; if he say true, he lies.

Hero and Leander
Both robb'd of air, we both lie in one ground;
Both whom one fire had burnt, one water drown'd.

If in his study he hath so much care
To hang all old strange things, let his wife beware
LJW Jul 2014
I suppose society is wonderfully delightful.
To be in it is merely a bore.
But to be out of it simply a tragedy.

I hope you have not been leading a double life,
pretending to be wicked and being really good all the time.
That would be hypocrisy.

The only thing to do with good advice is pass it on;
it is never of any use to oneself.
To be modern is the only thing worth being nowadays.
LJW Jun 2014
Prayer tonight, I'm happy today
I have a wicker table
with two unmatching wicker chairs.

I bought a wonderful woven turquoise place mat
for my cats so they won't be quite as messy.
I bought my boyfriend a cheap wicker Fedora.

My son spoke with another Jew
and met someone from my people.

Today was blessedly hot, thank God!
I only worked a little.

Tonight is quiet, and my family is close,
My prayer tonight is happy,
So be it.
LJW Jul 2013
The war was everywhere,
          not just in the desert      
          where we expected it to be.          
One night I heard the war in the wall
          behind my head—
          an animal with thick skin-wings
beating another toothy beast,
         claws hitting fur, wood, flesh.
         I asked my neighbor later
what it had been like to be alive
         before a time of war,
         and he said it was funny we even
have a word for it, because
         everything that’s alive
         stays that way by tearing
heat from another’s belly.

by Hannah Gamble
This poem is written by Hannah Gamble.  I am posting poems that I find especially wonderful, by poets who strike me with that..."instant perfection of poetic familiarity."  What makes a wonderful poem that speaks to us?  Is it the poet and their physical form?  It does make a difference to me what the poet looks like.  Even still, even if I like their face, I might not like their poem, but I am more apt to read them.  Sympathetic energy.
LJW Sep 2013
Our front porch is covered in chairs
waiting for visitors
We offer you hot tea or cold
Yoga at ten
and prayer flags if you need.

Far Away there are Yogis standing in
Mountain Pose...
Where is my peace guru?

My path is riddled without a person
holding my hand or
offering me an invitation
to pray the way I want to pray.

I can only imagine the room
hot and charged with mantras
and faith where followers
devote their hours to adherence.  

There lives are busy
moments of honesty,
fervent compassion,
sweat, and balance.

Here we sit drinking,
waiting in our chairs,
while our posture
is a hope rather than
a deed.
copywrite lisajeaninewinett
LJW Nov 2015
today hasn't been special,
crescendo stilled or spent
in a farther landscape.

today I teetered on heavy sighs,
convinced myself to become more

today I wished to wash away
the thoughts of a man in a distant land
laughing freely.

today I think I'll buckle up,
tighten my pack, walk a thousand miles
through thick jungle.

today I'll strip down naked,
wear gypsy spangled slippers,
dance wildly amongst a million strangers.

today I'll wonder If I can alter my life,
add a pound of flesh, and find
what I've been looking for all these years.
LJW Sep 2015
Poetry sings humanity's tale of living.
LJW Jul 2013
When pain upon pain
becomes the rhythm of the season,
the day of healing falls short of now.
When beauty in Jah becomes a greedy boat,
then my bitter white dress
I will pull up to above my ankles and excuse myself.  

Dancers jumpin’, rollin’ their thunder,
dippin’ their hips till the men start to rumble,
dancer woman watch that young girl toil;
gather in your jealous heart old woman,
she’s here to work.  

Make room old ladies, our daughters are a comin’,
you’re youth goes in the locker room;
your privies go in a flower box.  

October 16, 2010
LJW Jul 2013
Flowers bloom yearly
then die. We make beds
for beauty, sheeting them
to make love.  Lovers coil
wrapping skin, sweating to
make a future enshrined with
devotions to their own.
Damp ground tread on by
feet running to demand what
they want for themselves. Running
over flowers pinking towards the sun;
wild, growing without struggle, until
they are trampled.

Jan. 26, 2009
LJW Apr 2020
Foiled at every turn
some say this as cliche,
for me it is true.

Every love affair spoils,
each chance at wealth stolen,
any opportunity to get ahead blocked.

Flower petals fall when
the bee refuses it's kiss, or
light reserves its brilliance.
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