Posts tagged ‘season’

May 5, 2014

Pre-Game Summer (Mayday 2014)

Of early summer days, at the parade:

When late hands adorn grease and dirt,
Evidence produced of work and worth.

Beer stains on shirt-
What’s worse?

A face tight from sun bright;
Fried,
Sun-burnt,

Smile with deep lazy pride,
A good hurt.

Rode through
Commuting by
What exercise?
What a great time.

Things not done in winter,
Don’t think of that,

–Think of that.

Minnesotans had become bitter;
Different,
Now back.

In groups we relax.

Clear skies managed weather apropos for on-the-go.

Outside,
Midday,
Mayday,

Until night

With the cricket songs
And the crowds gone

We ride our way back,
And wake with the morning light.

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January 8, 2014

Polar Vortex Complex

Deep down in my bones I could feel the bitter cold

Unlike the weather I tried to remain positive

I could feel I wasn’t alone on this ill-tempered day.

 

The other commuters were as bold

Walking alone proved treacherous

I noticed this as I made my way.

 

Fixed we stood.

 

None took bare fingers to examine smart phones

So pained by the wind one could hear its distant moan

This had turned into a city full of steam and smoke and coats.

 

KVJ says, “So it goes.”  “So it goes.”  “So it goes…”

 

Warm thoughts what we could

Long minutes existed in time unknown

This as we waited in a bus shelter along the road on this dangerously weathered spinning stone.

 

… Here’s the 3B coming, right?

 

I can’t see, lenses create ice

Early day twilight wearing these damned sights

All eyes and no view, please help me make it through.

 

It must be dark as night on this frigid January morning

It was forecasted with forewarning

They said, ‘Stay inside.’ -like run and hide.

 

We have the Polar Vortex Complex

This is not Global Warming*.

 

This is a place where all inside have lost their minds because of ‘things’ being boring.

 

Thoughts, then I look on

Blurred Metro Transit lights?

 

Praying it’s not gone.

 

I am not even halfway there yet

A walk I fast regret.

 

Lungs feel tight, I start at fright.

 

Walking, my vision fogged and I forgot the art of breathing

Ice crystals formed on my lashes not for the better of seeing.

 

-Seething, I’d not like to die like this, on a near vacant campus

I begged, pleaded, and asked the UMPD for a small ride, I did not gain advantage.

 

Nothing happened.

 

Five minutes later my temperature changed

The outside temperature stayed the same.  (Below Something-nearing -50)

 

I thought, has my nose frozen yet, has carbon-monoxide damaged my brain?

Blackened and blotched flesh-stained.

 

All was but rearranged, all my ideas of sustain

All my big plans were being choked at the throat

I try manage at maintain.

 

Things we think about in a bundle

In this frost-bit jungle, the coldest city I have come to know.

 

Minneapolis,

Little cold apple, come as they go

Most, (at least), some will stay home.

 

Temperature of this place we live in

All things we’ve been given.

 

I must have blindly run off somewhere

Panic gulp puffs of smoke catching air as I passed

Mad dash hypothermic maniac, today I am back intact.

 

 

*Hyperbole

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July 23, 2013

Take It As It Comes

After you go, leaves come out waving in the trees, grass takes a greener shade of fresh, and flower blossoms bloom over, etc.

 

When you come back it’s not so bad, I guess.

Because the beauty you bring takes away my breath.

All worry and stress to forget.

 

At the end of a memorable day there is a sealed-kiss perfectly colored sunset.

Living now as if there is no past to regret.

Enjoying life in the present tense.

 

What would I change:  Nothing.

Take it as it comes, because either way it’s spent.  (Time)

 

Even if you are alone, know, spread, live, and believe in love, in attempt to do what’s best.

 

What else follows is the rest…

December 22, 2012

Winter Solstice

A semblance of light as seen in the dark, amid transport, a mere spark; washboard streets littered with ice and snow, touched slightly by brown matter, illuminated by waxy yellow bulbs which hang above, and the semi shown moon, shaded frequent by cloud mass.

(Life is a class, an education, always learning something new.)

Your doubts are about you, your mind wonders to something true.

Traveling is innate and thoughtless.

Time travel is priceless.

A punctual prospect.

Darkness seems darkest before the shortest day of annual; winter depression has just set in, and already, it has worn out its welcome.

Depression is subjective.

Who can object?

I doubt them.

The loved ones are gone, here for a moment, then away again in the next.

We have fought, we have thought, we have cherished the moments we have lost, and then our mind is flexed.

Vexed.

We do what is best, we do nothing.

We stretch out waiting patiently for the rest, then we subject ourselves to something.

The seasons.

A destination is met.

I look outside once more before I shut the door on a winter’s day.

What have I to forget?

October 5, 2012

Love Poetry (Weather)

Poetry and I:

Like Jane to Calamity.

Like the Hindenburg to Fire.

Like Rim to Tire.

 

We transpire.

 

(And proceed.)

 

We tire.

 

We exist,

we live,

and we are:

 

Like a fast car, like a boxer’s spar.

 

Immensely interesting.

 

Poetry.

Poe, try (ed).

Poe did and Poe died

-drunk along the riverside under dark skies.

 

But he got by (with it).

 

(That’s how we think of the past, in black and white.  Romantic delight.)

 

Yet we read on.

 

We choose battles.

We choose retreats.

Sometimes while talking in our sleep.

 

We like it.

We write it.

Sometimes its divided.

 

The words still exist (with us).

In the mix, tossed up to become lost stuff…  Then found.

That’s when poetry comes back around.

 

The wind blows the leaves every-which-way, the path forward and backward become obstructed and cleared in an instant.  The air around has a chill that has been in other lands for many months, touching other faces, other families, with other ideas.  Relation is in the season-we feel this way for a reason.  Universal community.