Traffic surges, you are swept along
in currents which feel inevitable
though they are not. Stop
at this junction, pull off the road.
Down the embankment, away
from false light, bloom
fields alive with fireflies
searching for each other, flash
green luminescent calls in sweet grass
to hopeful lovers buzzing above.
Stay in this place. Abandon your roads.
Follow where the path appears.
© 2014 Laura Levesque
Two springs ago, I planted dry-rooted twigs someone promised me were redbud trees.
On my knees, I dug a hole in my new hill with bare hands, staked with bamboo
and a child’s pinwheel. Through the droughts and killing winters, they grew
crowns of reddish teardrop leaves, which seem to laugh as they dance,
silverback, when the fiercest stormwinds blow.
Pink Floyd, Take It Back
Vengeance seeks its level,
like water steeped through night,
gathering a storm
I return to exorcise you
but how do you chase
You cannot kill shadows
that run ahead, then stalk your heels
like a jealous lover.
My light remains after the rest
I haunt fiercely with fire,
scorching brighter than a thousand suns.
Flip down the visor, glare
of morning sun, late again no wonder,
gather the strands of worry as coffee
splatters heathered yarn of your sweater,
reach between the driver seat where fast-food napkins
fell. Distracted last night, thoughts of her
kept you from the lip of sleep, the undertow’s dragging
her past the point your voice can reach,
over the cusp where interference will stay her hand
from harming herself, her future, echoes ricochet
across this abyss you can’t seem to breach.
Glance at the illuminated mountainside,
one hand on the wheel and brakes feel mushy
underfoot, a telltale squeal
as you take the turn, the road snakes
through glorious forests, blooming everywhere,
you could drive it now without sleep
hurtling inside a little silver capsule
the solitude at least is some relief.
Braid threads in your mind, numbers and ledgers,
rehearsals, deadlines, keep your hand on the wheel,
what the hell to make the kids for dinner,
find some music to soothe the ride, damn CD case
slips from your fingers round the bend with the sun
in your eyes you never saw the semi falter
the towing engine skid-ram the guard rail
jacknife the trailer vaulting across
the two-lane mountain pass-
you surge into
………………………Light, blinding, everywhere
National Poetry Writing Month is right around the corner.
For the un-initiated, poets take the challenge in April to write (and publish) one poem each day. Normally we do this in a workshop forum, and give each other feedback. It is a lot of fun, and it’s great to see friends who come back year after year. It is also an exercise which instills discipline in the writer, and the community of fellow poets encourages you to carry on and see it through thirty full days.
The Academy of American Poets has many resources for National Poetry Month.
TED Talk- Clay Shirky- How Social Media Can Change History.
Wind can be gentle or scary.
I think wind can be fierce,
Because it can be scary.
~ poem by Caleb Stone, age 7