Tag: <span>Poetry</span>

So sorry readers, I rushed to post

forgetting that: “A poem is never finished,

only abandoned.”

—Gudrun

FROZEN SOULS – Updated

1
At 5:00 pm
guards would start collecting women;
children looked through bombed out eaves
to see stars, sometimes the moon.
Once there was a different kind of light—
something conscious.
A child inhaled the essence
like food she was not getting.
2
Rachel stretches. This 70 years old memory,
she thinks, and now another dangerous era.
The pandemic needs drastic measures.
And the horse porch hearth glows;
new beams mix with old.
We watch home movies.
The hitching post stands idle.

(c) Gudrun Mouw

April, 2020

A Poem

Human Predator

He rushes through
like a cold North wind;
and at his favorite stop,

his mountain lion eyes
look to scare victims
as he intensifies the night.

Fear must not
be king. May courage
reign.

Feb. 18, 2020

Gudrun Mouw (c)

Uncategorized

August Lesson

“August represents pure love,” my teacher’s teacher said;
then, why does hatred pull hatred to the mark?
After two national massacres, today looks
unreal. Hardly a bloom in the courtyard under cold fog
followed by wind over brown, dead grass.

I finish reading another bad book, sip lemon water.
Two friends connect by phone; I am willing to help.
We look for ways to heal, to engage, to find once again
joy hiding among the decades.

Gudrun Mouw (c)
August 7, 2019

A Poem

MORNING DRIZZLE

Barely visible, a transparent sheet
of moisture falls
to the semi-arid earth.

Something precious stirs—
something momentous like a birth.

Summer Solstice happened;
one more spring has passed.
Morning deer have grazed and gone.

A neighbor’s cat appears on life’s screen,
then, ducks out, under our gate.
How much more is there,
to wonder and to love.

Gudrun Mouw (c)
June 20, 2019

A Poem

Speak?

I answer: let me write, how the worst
humans have no compassion. Winds
rise; the ocean rises. We swing back
and forth between drought, fire and deluge.

Memory—of a family displaced,
threatened, in hiding, abused
and starved—does not forget
the sounds of death.

Each of us must find a way
to expose that
which should not
exist.

Gudrun Mouw (c)
December, 2018

Uncategorized

I keep returning to one of the poems published in NEWS FROM NATIVE CALIFORNIA, “When Coyote Comes to Visit” by D. Lorraine Sanchez.

Why is the “When Coyote Comes to Visit” poem so relevant in my view? We are living through times, it seems to me, when unpredictable, egotistical, cheating and foolish coyote energy has gained an alarming amount of power.

This poem has given me a different way to look at our current situation in the world. Perhaps, it is more important than ever, not only to see the amusing and entertaining side of coyote phenomena, but also to understand how we must not be mesmerized by the dangerous antics that are so blatantly displayed. I am grateful to the poet for the healing detachment and light this piece creates.

Gudrun Mouw (c)

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