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Tuesday, April 5, 2016

Another Change

I am making another change;
doing the same but better...
a move toward diligence

Practicing piano with care, cleaning,
writing a little more, and reading too.
Details managed to allow a
proper finish, a happier soul --
to hope for an occasional
shimmer of perfection.

© Gay Reiser Cannon * 4/5/16 * All Rights Reserved

Monday, April 4, 2016

Running Late

"I'm running late"
that once was always the case..
sleeping late, rounding up the skates,
the skaters, the cases, the guards,
the instant breakfasts and snacks,
off to a rink at 5..should have been 5
to make a 6 o'clock patch - figures and
freeskates..each with different coaces,
often different rinks, round them up
back to school, to committee meetings,
to luncheons, to preparations, to shop for
supper, get skaters back for afternoon
training, home, supper, dishes, a cuddle,
to sleep and to start again next days..next years
and then it stopped ..first one and then another
graduation, college, marriage, and I'm at work
and traffic..running late again and not my fault
and I'm hope late and it's just the cat and me.
Now it's just me and I'm never late..on time
for appointments, mostly doctors. On time
with the bills, the taxes, the parties, the presents,
the birthday cards...it was more fun running late
I think.

© Gay Reiser Cannon * 4/4/2016

Sunday, April 3, 2016

Why July?

Why July?
When July had always been nights of fireworks
Why July?
When July was the time of flashing blades
Why July?
When that was the month of celebrations
hot, sultry, a time of dragonflies and drum of
compressors and the thrum of air-conditioning
Songs soared to the rooftops - Tchaikovsky
alternating with Willie Nelson, dogs herding
playing pitch with the boys in the park
Why July?
The tiger lily grabbed you in mid sentence
and now
you're
gone...

© Gay Reiser Cannon * 4.3.2016 * All Rights Reserved

Saturday, April 2, 2016

Aging

April 2 - National Poetry Month - prompt Aging

AGING

Old lady - when did I first think I was old?
Around twelve perhaps..old enough
to have little jobs, pay bills, support;
and then twenty one - married, pregnant,
grown up, responsible, and somehow not.
Forty-eight and widowed that was the point.
I would never be older than that.

I find that aging since that event,  I've stretched
toward innocence. I know others try to
remain young, bawdy, sinful; but it's
easier to revert to an innocence of childhood
with calm thoughts, diligence, and an
aim toward kindness and altruism.

Flowers and children's voices touch me
but I seek the narrow path - a walk to the sea,
a stroll in a park, sewing a garment, mending
a tear, watching a sunset, preparing a meal.
Simple things bring pleasure. The appreciation
of excellence thrills but the need to exceed
one's current state diminshes and satisfaction
is found in still being both able and capable.

When I Was Ten

April 1 - First Poem

Black as the night that ruled my day,
a habitually mean scare-crow nun
tortured my tenth year by terrorizing
my fifth grade days and nights and
more in the nightmares that followed.

The single ray of light that year
occurred when I was released
to take piano lesson. Her retribution
took form in winds of hate that
directed manic strikes with a hickory stick.
It shred my hands and arms, at any
time almost always for imagined
infractions of some unspecified law.

No recourse, no mercy, and no understanding
and now I feel the same for that institution
that preaches love and practices hate.

© Gay Reiser Cannon * 4.1.16 * All Rights Reserved

Thursday, January 28, 2016

3 IMagy Poems

I

pigeons thunder roof to 
ground no way to get unwound 
more all the time out of reason 
full of sound -- sleeping, waking,
coming 'round every day

II

Sailing the night on silver
slipping silent then slow later on 
feel the wind blow then quicker 
as only you & the water 
& the stars hear the sound


III

hall and inward to the branch 
forward then to the dark space 
by the stair later on you'll hear 
a clock take three steps back 
try not to fall

Saturday, February 28, 2015

One Part Invention



 The earth leans,
the waves rise up,
the raindrops fall,
the snow piles.
We feel nature's push
and metronomically
the reassurance of
steady Bach measures
in perfect interweaving
of chordal harmonies
fortify our spirit.
Patterns ever changing,
while repeating,
calm and comfort us
with the same warmth
and reassurance
as home baked strudel
or apple pie.
Our spirits lift.
We forge ahead.

(c) Gay Reiser Cannon * All Rights Reserved * 2.28.15

Friday, February 6, 2015

By Design

I am an architect of poetry.
Each idea designed as a house
conceived as spaces living within me.

I research the empty benches of my soul
discover a rooms full of chrysanthemums.
Each color a shaded nuance as petals unfold.

I measure words in sets of columns, stanzas of lifted lines,
that result in a drawing of emotions. I plan heavy with passion,
yet yield delicate blueprints where hidden closets may be discovered.

The poem becomes a park filled with dreams, of memories
measured by clouds, rain, and sunny days, planned with care
tinted in pastels - from land and lake to the hedges with fountains.

Its foundation are the trees whose winter lines seem like
those traced upon my palms elevated to a metaphor for life
executed in relief upon the soft clouds of a winter sky.

Nouns; house, painting, closets, chrysanthemums, park, cloud, trees, bench, fountains
Verbs:  create, discover, conceive, fill, research, design, measure, draw, elevate, execute
for Connect the Dots @dVersepoets pub - today hosted by Claudia

(c) Gay Reiser Cannon * 2.6.15 * All Rights Reserved

Thursday, January 22, 2015

Iconoclast

ICONOCLAST
For Brian

set the falcon on its wing,
let it soar, let it swing,
let it roll, trace the scroll
through lightning bolts
scrape the skies, soar, turn, dive;
teary-eyed, crush the mold
fill anew, stretch, fold
watch it leave dark skies, arrive,
surprise, implode the status quo
devise, change course, rub smooth
eschew the groove, rise, raise, lift from stress
digress, unseat the goddess Poetry
reject the prize, incline toward the stars
regard, release, fly free......

free form sonnet, internal  and end rhyme, no set meter, no set rhyme scheme
for Brian's latest break the form mold prompt at d'Verse poets.

Gay Reiser Cannon * 01.22.15 * All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Birthday Poem

Consider this Christmas
On the day of Christ's birth
the miracle that is
YOU

A single snowflake
like no other
An oak leaf
one of many on its tree
A shell
which has traveled oceans
A star
Born of light, giving light

YOU
family vessel
inheritor of history, 
progenitor to the future

YOU 
belong only to yourself
By being, you have made a difference
Singular, you establish change

YOU
think, design, create and give

YOU
yourself are a gift from God

YOU
will always be loved

YOU
are
UNIQUE!

(c) Gay Reiser Cannon * 12.16.14 * All Rights Reserved