Left Foot Poet: Favorites

Jan 2020 Left Foot Poet

betterdays

kindness given
kindness received
small transactions
unseen, .
but not unnoticed
are the true pennies
from heaven
tossed with love,
into the wells
of our tired hearts

Can any one spare
a penny.... or two
......today

With thanks to the Nattyman..for throwing his piggy bank at us

Jan 2020 Left Foot Poet

Seasons

Jan 2020 Left Foot Poet

Sally A Bayan

Seasons

They're often cliched, yet always uttered
the real essence of the quote, "life is short."
struck me, as i was clearing my jaded eyes...

the “winter of life” is how they call it,
when your numbers are higher than those
on the calendar...when doing the stairs
shouldn’t be rushed, for, slowing down
is not a choice...but, a must.
:::::
despite challenges and changes that
overwhelm, there's this sprightly feeling
that still breathes within, like second skin,
as short hair, sneakers, skinny jeans and
t-shirts are to me...age hasn't weakened
this longing for adventure, this wanderlust,
unaffected by tedious procedures and
long queues at the airport...
:::::::
like a cat...i purr not, while exploring,
Yet, always wary in the midst of curiosity...
still wondering what's beyond the fence, or,
how to cross traditions, or, sensitive issues,
without displeasing, or hitting a raw nerve...
::::::
much to do,
much to see, but
not much time...
::::::
at this point in my life, i feel, life is short(er)
the weeks, the months could be no longer
days turn foggier, or hazier, yet, it's not at all winter,
here, in my own space, it's always summer, where
short hair, jeans, tshirts, and sneakers are bestsellers,
where numbers, wrinkles and sags don't really matter...
:::::::::::::

Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
January 3, 2020

Jan 2020 Left Foot Poet

hooked

Jan 2020 Left Foot Poet

Mara W Kayh

hooked

Less I am a fisherman
with patient gaze on
undulating seas

and more bait
submerged
heart on the hook
waiting
for you,
beloved,
to cast away this
eternity

Spontaneous, shortpoem, short, poem, fisherman , trapped, hooked

#working #on #this #for #*** #few #days #to #get #it

Oct 2019 Left Foot Poet

Poetry is my armor

Oct 2019 Left Foot Poet

Glenn Currier

Poetry is my armor

There is the ancient story of a shepherd boy
whose king outfitted him with armor
to ready him for the challenges of the day
and the boy could not walk
so he threw off the armor
picked up his sling
and tended his father’s flock
with peace and joy freely erupting in song.

My armor is not wealth or wit
I cannot make myself fit
into the current conventions and hype
trying to conform to the normal type
stops up the energies that yearn to flow
freely and gleefully and urge me to go
to the dawn, darkness, clouds and sun
to wrap myself in words that run
like sparkling streams
and windswept dreams.

Poetry is my armor for each day
where worries and problem allay
where I search my feelings and mind
for the word elixir loosening knots that bind.
This armor does not weigh me down
but frees me to my triggering town
where I find and create the poet me
and the landscape of my soul’s poetry.

My favorite book about writing poetry is one by Richard Hugo, Triggering Town where he says, “Your triggering subjects are those that ignite your need for words. When you are honest to your feel¬ings, that triggering town chooses you. Your words used your way will generate your meanings. Your obsessions lead you to your vocabulary. Your way of writing locates, even creates, your inner life. The relation of you to your language gains power. The relation of you to the triggering subject weakens.”

#poetry #problems #freedom #words #discovery #solutions #armor

Sep 2019 Left Foot Poet

Come down off your poem

Sep 2019 Left Foot Poet

South by Southwest

Come down off your poem

.

Come down off your poem
long days have all gone
Somebody you can hear is calling

Running deep the river bends
moving on with amens
Some things just keep on gnawing

The winter will be ice
I'll get relief at last
When I lay under blankets of snow

All those days once before
Memories rich and poor
There just to let you know

I can see the greens of spring
Summer's blissfull loving thing
Still I hear the mournful call of winter

Come down off your poem
Leave your words as you were born
The river has frozen over

Sep 2019 Left Foot Poet

Pradip: “I'm a charming man with a fragile patience“

Sep 2019 Left Foot Poet

Nat Lipstadt

Pradip: “I'm a charming man with a fragile patience“

again, madness!

one eye tears, why must you return to the old familiar,
the poets prescribed, already so well covered?

why?

must. it is the only shade of my voice that persists,
all else vanity.
these are words handily eye-read, given.
all I need do is “repeat after me” somewhat well,
and fill in the blanks.
<>

he writes me, in another place, to another name, describing himself:

“I'm a charming man with a fragile patience.”

no sir, Muses order me to disagree,
you are a fragile man with a charming patience!

your fragility is a royal hallmark, embedded in every scribing,
this human indentation, always well hidden, on the underside of the wine cup, the base of the candlesticks, the inside of the wedding ring of your tying allegiance to the humbled humanity.

the charming patience is the wait time tween your visions of
the excellence of the common, the exquisites of the small,
the delights of loss and pain translated into mercurial milestones,
poems.

here I cease, for overly long praise is a river too long, no end in sight,
making great and wide just another poem.
<>

But!
he writes me, in another place, to another name, describing himself,
yet again:

”A thousand poems I don't write, but they get written
in my heart.”

A thousand!
ours is the patience fragile, your innate screen that filters out

these thousand forbidden unwritten,
needs a cleaning, open the tiny apertures and release them, for we are the humans needing, for the breathing of your fragile charm.

<>
the Muses do thee attend.
their patience neither charming or fragile,
reminding me, they too have a thousand.

a thousand other ears into which to whisper that
imperative imperial command,
and they river no delay...

the days has come when I can only write of others, this is the only shade of my voices that survives.

#pradip #fragile #charming #patience #muses #lipstadt