Poetry–In-Transit

DSCN0789I wrote “The Dim Sun” while I was waiting for a bus. And then I wrote “Zen Voyager” while I on the ferry to Port Townsend, Washington. I’m glad that I carried my notebook with me in my backpack.

The Dim Sun

Freshly cut grass tickled my nose, a sneeze exploded and broke the silence

And then bees buzzed life into sleeping trees; hummingbirds dazzled wearing sparkling rainbow light.

And across the way, robins scrambled in trees belting out their seasonal songs

While bloated worms came p for air and crows gathered like school kids trampling on the mud and moss.

The dim sun lingered on the horizon signaling a new dawn and the Earth

broke into

A smile.

 

The Zen Voyager

Snakelike, the island wrapped around itself, smug with its own existence

The marine air pungent from the entrails of fish–scales, spines, and fins

And the brine of the sea.

Gulls wheel in the sky and dive into the reflective water like blown-glass

Endless calm stretches out for miles we sail along with peace songs

Embracing our hearts and wise words swirl in our minds.

The Zen traveler on board, lightened burdens and spritely feet.

She doesn’t enter this passage by carrying the past nor will the

Future provide her treasure maps.

No, only this moments and these words exist for me.

Time and place, a forgotten space as I let go

And I nose-dive with the dolphins and ride on the backs of whales…

If only in my dreams.

I know one thing.

We are safe here.

We are at peace now.

And together, we weathered the passing storm.

 

 

All Rights Reserved copyright Patricia Herlevi 2018

 

Poetry–Invisible One

DSCN2155
Photograph by Patricia Herlevi, All Rights Reserved

(Alternate title Invisible Child)

Creeping like a mouse through the rooms,

As silent as mahogany furniture,

The worn armchair in the corner

That comforted grief and worries.

 

Silent as an owl feather

dropping onto the stony ground

while emotions inside rolling like pebbles

on a desolate beach of the past, drifting…

 

The child seen, but unheard, feelings censored

and sanitized for adult sensibilities, anger frozen

in time, sent back to the womb

where she found no comfort, no condolences

 

Emotions abandoned on the side of the road

no markers left standing or signifying

not even white crosses where accidents

of fate occurred, leaving no scars.

 

Creeping like a spider hidden in an attic

felt but not experienced fully beyond the phantoms

We move furniture across the carpeted floors

a room parented by practicality and stories of regret

 

Set aside for others to later ponder and assess.

By Patricia Herlevi

All Rights Reserved

 

My Contribution to National Poetry Month

DSCN5397A Stitch in Time

She keeps time in a bag,

sand trapped between her sagging legs.

Stealing stitches from eternity,

her soul endures maternity

until she gives birth to herself.

Cocooned passive, waiting

a trick of the clock eminent

She pulls out an unfinished sleeve,

thinking of the day she’ll take leave.

A departure date only known to her.

Unraveling the future, knotting the past,

a continual spiral until at last,

no tears for these arachnid-like days.

She stares into the void’s haze

until an arrival date only known to her.

She’s the mother and the child,

the beginning and end of time,

a riddle, a mystery, a prophecy,

So clear and bright that we close our eyes.

Yet, this Spider Woman weaves humanity’s destiny.

By Patricia Herlevi, 2011

Photography by Patricia Herlevi

 

All Rights Reserved