Last day of National poetry Month! Spring Night Ballet

 It is the last day of National Poetry Month!
spring night ballet

the lilacs are heavy in the air
a fragrance tangible
as syrup alight with wonder
of touch of skin of night air best breathed
by two
oh you yes
us as two pulses and one body
the machinations of the mundane
pushed far behind us
we will be wild we will dare
to be whole as the lilac in may
roots clenching the moist earth
branches alight with sun warm leaves
feeding on their own passion for life
us as chlorophyll igniting the green green
rejoicing cells
whose membranes allow in
all the love all the sky
our spring night ballet
entranced in lilac wishes

J. Pratt-Walter
(c) 2013

Water is the Way

 Today's poem, a haiku:

Water is the way--
it takes the easiest path
and is never lost.

JPW, 4/2013

Relativity

Yesterday's poem, for National Poetry Month:

Relativity

E=mc2 is missing
the variable of Love:
E=mc2 is the All before anything was.
     L

Love=E=mc2=Love
is the binding and the balance
of the universe:
Love x mc2 x E= Truth.
Infinity.  El Shaddai
Magnetic North, we are many compasses
to one fixed Truth--

Even electrons love their proton grip,
even cells love their water,
even water loves
all its molecules,
holding on, each to another
as they roll out of god's overfilled bucket.

J. Pratt-Walter
(c) 4/2013

The Old Farmhouse

The Old Farmhouse

I remember slipping my feet into mom's tan heels,
scuffing and tapping the girliness
into me through my feet,
in the old farmhouse
that spoke "this is country"
through the living land,

where the barn loomed its
raw holy magic,
more than a cathedral,
until it was torn apart
for its boards.

And the country, it was dismembered
for pavement and all the ludicrous mansions,
and the tan heels and girlhood were destroyed
by my growing up skeptical and never
loved enough.

J. Pratt-Walter
4/15/2013

Deep Tracks

A poem for day 8 of NaPoWriMo:
Deep Tracks

You have left deep tracks
there in the sand
of my soul.
They can never wash out,
not from any galloping wild tide--
Settling and sedimentary,
those shadows are somehow
still the brightest of places:
There you are fossilized
in the epochs of me.

J. Pratt-Walter
(c) 2013

Just Now

Just Now

Sandpipers stitch the sand
to the earth,
the waves growl and churn winter 
from upon their beveled strand.

Sky stretches wider
than the world,
and I am trying to be,
just be...

Just be here,
just now.

J. Pratt-Walter, (c) 2013

I Will Know

I Will Know

Did you ever wonder if stars 

   love their wide-armed universe?

If I can love a precious distant soul,

   surely stars born of Madonna-galaxies

   surge and whirl their 

cauldrons of passions for what is 

   important to a star. 

Maybe when the ration of my days

   scatters

   like wild antelope

   over their ocean of grass,

I know I will know. 

                                                               J. Pratt-Walter, (c) 2013 

 

Speed of Time

Speed of Time

We move through life
at the speed of time--
sometimes the rapids chuckle
or hiss us along,
and sometimes it's the glass
of an unruffled lake.

On the right green day
or untellable night,
my time moves back
to when we met, poised
upon several simultaneous doorways,
and time forgets to roll on, caught
in your ineffable beauty.
Sometimes time skates ahead,
or all the times circle out at once

and there we are, or maybe just me,
unbound and free,
and you are a miracle awaiting
recognition but you don't know
how to look,
but I do, I do.

J. Pratt-Walter, (c) 2013

Center of Gravity

It's National Poetry Month!  It's not too late for me to start posting, since the writing for it started on time.
Please share some poetry if you like, even if you think it's too rough.  Even if you think you are not good enough.

CENTER OF GRAVITY

It sleeps where your feet stood,
your name is a fulcrum
where rests my long old young self--
You don't know my neurons 
still fire off your name
at the strangest of times--
It ricochets through my cloaked being,
the intractable nerves mindful
of all things lost.

You're there right now, this moment:
A complex melody, sliding over
this very silken night.

J. Pratt-Walter, (c) 2013