MJ blathers

dark poet who loves to laugh


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true holiday tree

gentle rain
whispering onto the feather-needled tree
collecting as reflecting drops
of silver or glistening crystal
at the ends of each tiny twig
outshining bolder lights
of tinsel and commercial greed

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walking stick

every place is within walking distance
if you have enough time
my time on earth
have i done enough?
could i have done more? done better?
of course
can i forgive myself the waste of precious sand
as my time eddies into the whirlpool leaving
the upper globe of that unyielding timer?
the grains now are so white and fine
most of the sand i have lived
has been gritty, rough, abrasive
and yet the joys!
my daughters finally connecting
to share supper last night
hugged one another in deep joy and love
knowing either would come
in the case of dificulties
what more could i ever ask?
what else do i need on this journey
i walk so humbly?
despite my own shortcomings
i am blessed to know
that the next generation – and the next
love and cherish themselves and each other


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between summer and fall

mellowing, softening
its hard edges of
intense, direct sunlight
colors richer, warmer
even in the cooler air
no longer bleached out
but summer glare
seem glowing from within
rather than stabbing with
reflected brilliance
of an overwhelming sol
reds and oranges burnished
no long too-bright
yellows and whites
i can open my eyes
lower a protective hand
peer now, rather than squint
see, rather than
seek shade
autumn allows me
to stand, to bend, to move
about in my world
no longer needing
to hide in shadows
from a truth
i cannot face


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instinct

instinct, they say
touch a newborn’s feet to a surface and
the infant will lift one foot and
then the other
as though stepping

touch his palm and
his tiny fingers will
grasp and close
mere instinct

but when thos near-translucent
hopes for mastery of piano or guitar
stir and touch, surround your
pointer to the world’s
past betrayals
and present heartaches

when fresh, soft delicate skin
brushes callous and scar
and clings as though in trust

those vulnerable fingers melt the wrongs
and promise goodness and mercy
of a future
now in my hands