Abandoned Grocery Cart

Jammed with the rocks at the riverbank

Submerged in water at high tide

Saved by a fisherman brought inland

Now you are with flowers along the walkway

Which journey will I find you again?

You can’t venture on your own.

Will you vanish somewhere

Or drift into oblivion

What will happen if Kierkegaard

or Salvador Dali find you?

I don’t think I will be dancing in strawberry field

I may write about absurdity of abandoned grocery carts.

Perhaps some ideas are astonishing

We think of wild things

Like kissing at the middle of storm

I will not be writing in Russian.

note: The book I am reading: Either/Or by Elif Batuman.

Present Moment

How often do we return to a place of enchantment

How do we “recognize the infinite value of every moment”

Rilke says, we desperately try to hold these moments in our hands

Today in my walk I found 12 cents of coins on the ground

Place them among the fowers

A moment of happiness

Not because of the new found wealth

It completes the wholeness of the universe

A new day

The woman in red returns
Coins among the flowers
Rain drops from last night

A snail wandering

Tide and Consequences

Low tide, 

59 degrees 

fog lines the hills

a plane overhead, 

sounds like distant thunder

I’m walking behind

a woman in red running 

mild breeze shy on my neck,

kayakers riding towards the ocean

I pass an empty bench

an invitation, a luxury

I’m too old

to sit down

Mrs. Abstract will find me frozen

I have other ideas

like loose leaves in my notebook

come, 

let’s ride the tide

let’s go upstream

come.

Morning Walk

58, cloudy, low tide

a woman and her daughter run

a dog runs with a red ball in his mouth 

he drops intermittently to keep up with his master 

A grandma pushes a stroller

two other children walking and talking

vultures hoover, ducks hurry on the river

My morning walk to the river

find excitement in the moment

experience the goodness of the earth

New Ambition

Clattering sound of falling kitchen pans brushes aside her reverie 

Her eyes fix on the sea

Fog distorts perception of distance, silence ushers thinking confidently 

She adjusts herself in the writing table

With a new  ambition

She writes, her fingers trembling with words.

Evening crickets will summon her to sleep

The rooster will wake her before dawn

Seldom she considers to stray outside these boundaries

Her stories wanting to be heard

Like mute feelings suddenly freed from captivity

How to express the river’s yearnings

The delicate exposure of what is hidden

Abundant play before learning the alphabets

The forest changes, weather comes with seasons

She feels fresh facing open spaces, the deep and simple questions, enhancement and pruning

The mysteries of truth and moments of need

Finding her way in intricacies of language

If she has nothing to say, she stays silent.

She may play her violin in front of the llamas

Or she may hold the cat close to her chest

Hum a melody to its ear

Don’t let desire turn to dreaming and fades

Even when distance dims

She has to consider the end

What is meaningful to her

To flourish the goodness life

And encourage herself to cultivate 

Habits of the heart.

Flirtations

Should I haiku

my way to you

light bends

The apple falls

flowers attract butterflies

bees circle around

Mothers wonder

children run to sounds of  a waterfall

does enthusiasm measure distances

The kite laughs with the wind

free and unafraid

a boy watches

Inquisitive, often in motion

a bird moves from from to branch

to opening spaces

I decide to be better

procrastination flirts

catches my curiosity

The splendor of order

my thoughts and a nightingale singing

a pebble and thunder

The swan’s wings sweep the air

clouds coalesce like a quilt

the pond and I mirror the scene

The swan, lovely and silent

unruffled by wakes of passing boats

somewhere, a monk in contemplation.

Unafraid, swelling with confidence, she prays 

the snow falls on top of trees

first week of December

My strength begins

paddles breaks the water

the ducks glide

The bell’s sounds of angelus

a moment of remembrance

farmers stand silent on the field

With darkening sky

poetic storm enters her vision

sharp and exhausting

Bowls and fields catch raindrops

seasons of need

umbrellas cover workers’ heads

note: The photos were taken during my walk to the river. Books I am reading. Our Book Club decided to read Moby Dick.

Dawn

What is after all 

one chess game lost

kings, queens, knights roaming

bishops blessing 64 squares

after the 6th hour of play

though night is deepening

tired, vision blurred, distracted

there is another day

hours and hours of preparation

dawn will come 

another game.

note: I’m sorry I have not written any new poems. I have been watching on-line Tata Steel Chess Tournament 2022 being held in the Netherlands.I have to get up before 5 in the morning. The games start at 5.

Books I’m reading: I have been re-reading Lord of the Rings.

A Wish

I want to make my life means something 

starting with my thoughts

I walk and think of things

simple ordinary things

Exquisite fantastical things,

lounging on the porch, sailing the ocean

Being scared during a storm, t

asting a lemon meringue pie,

a piece of happiness

I imagine talking with a child

both of us laughing

both of us crying with pain

then silence

then again we will join Socrates 

in symmetry of thought

we will say we don’t know anything

and it will be something.

with every step I am happy

I am not alone anymore.