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.

Time passing

B53033D0-17AD-48B5-8090-9D289654C36A5C047E80-0B7E-4287-936E-1E030B9DA67974BD3F23-6486-4A95-8018-909C19C5B52028A2E5FC-F509-4CA3-BD3C-33166CCB828ATime’s passing so quickly 

You have not returned from your walk

You should have been getting ready

To go to ride the ferry 

Eating breakfast, dressing up

But morning unfurls like a yarn with a cat

The telephone is garbled confusion

Converging into cries and disbelief

Of what has happened.

 

Tears take time to dry

Smile takes time to sustain

Flowers, sea, flamingoes, stories can not 

Take the place of loss, we

Brave each morning, learning

New steps, each night may bring 

New dreams, to remember and celebrate 

Your life that will not return 

Understanding and surrender take time

Love bears and endures all things 

The only truth I have to know.

Sharing

Today is second week of Lent

I imagine the Blessed Mother looking 

At Jesus during his passion 

I feel a deep sadness 

I imagine all the other mothers 

And fathers who have lost a loved one

We share the loss

We share tears and pain

We are one

We are one with One

Because of love.

 

“Love bears all things,

… endures all things.”

Devastation

 

Wind
like hundreds galloping horses
tear through the woods

breaking trees, felling power lines
like Archimedes’s eureka moment of sudden insight
sparks sprout

trees light up
hiding the stars
blaze dances, laughs, gathering energy

hellish felicity descends
fire pours it’s peaking power
valley asleep or dazed

immobile, innocent, whole neighborhood
stands on the way
leave, hurry, unprepared

Helpless

Swift in devastation
ashes, interrupted silence

morning comes

fields of desolation

grief, too heavy
even for God
to carry.

note: Multiple fires started in Napa and Sonoma shortly after midnight on Sunday. More than 1500 dwellings, 72000 acres burned down. 15 deaths,
and climbing. The fires still zero contained.

Mrs. Abstract and I and our families are safe. Several of our friends lost their homes.

Tuesday poem

note: I just read the poem “One Art” by Elizabeth Bishop quoted in the article Living With Cancer: Practicing Loss by SUSAN GUBAR APRIL 24, 2014, New York Times.

One Art
by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.