Limerick's loony bin and other crazy sh% - 3. Day 6 - Day 10

Gemengelage*

(conflict situation—a lame translation of a much more complex meaning of the German word)

Factions are positioned

The land divided

Lines drawn

Borders built

Opinions preconceived

The outsiders, as the ‘others’ identified

to be excluded as they do not comply with the ‘rules’.

You don’t belong!

Or you—nah, I’m not playing your games.

Let your poem be about your own name, the name of someone else, or the names of things

Sunday

Early morning chill makes me shiver,

my brain is still in bed.

And I charge through the underwood, my arm extended by a leash.

Is that a flock of long tailed tits scolding us for the ruckus we make in their domain?

I dream of coffee with milk and too much sugar when dewy catkins hit me in the face.

Nox, we almost trampled a spot of wood anemones! Leave the squirrels alone!

Exhausted we rest by the fallen tree, spring water cools us both down.

Warmth enfolds me. In the kitchen, you in those ugly, checkered pajama pants turn around with a sleepy smile.

Perfect morning.

Companion*

He used to dig a hole under the fern in the garden,

to hide from the new world.

And rip backpacks and books with glee,

circle, and guard us dutifully on every walk,

like the good herding dog he is.

Now, we help him up the stairs,

and the sofa,

thankful he is happy again,

and live every moment with him,

after the diagnosis.

Blank*

Ideas and pictures dance and cavort,
words flirt raucously with reason and rhyme
constantly fighting mind's frantic command
for precision and suitable meter.

Then sudden silence stills the anarchy.
At first desired, it becomes oppressive,
soon void encroaches creativity
and pages seem remain forever blank.

Drop*

Wanderer, sit by the spring and maidenhair fern,

listen to the tale of my journey and return:

In endless darkness I traveled the depth of earth,
encountered light and created a rainbow: My birth.

Slowly I meandered down to the valley
picked up speed, rushed through a canyon, no time to dally.

Giggling I bubbled with my brothers over cascades
and chilled in the willow’s shades.

I became one of many in the great stream
tumbled against a whispered dream:

The salty sea!

I found many wondrous creatures and sunken treasures,
was in constant motion with the waves’ measure.

Then I hit the rocky shore, and I was mist
conquered a realm I didn’t know to exist,

ascended high

to the endless sky

I froze and rained down again, soil soaked me up before I slipped into small cracks
followed many hidden tracks.

I glided down stalactites, and absorbed the silence of a dark stone hall,
only broken by the echo of my fall.

I found my brothers in a cool underground basin, trickled into the ground
until I saw light and created a rainbow...

A poem becomes a river