Archive | August 2011

8/28/2011 – Patricia A. Hawkenson’s Reflections – I Borrowed My Father’s Circular Saw

I Borrowed My Father’s Circular Saw

When I was young
my arms could curve
all the way to my father’s smile,
and his warmth encircled me
till I saw my dreams.

Then I turned my back
as I built my life,
eclipsing him into darkness,
yet I always knew where he was –
my ebb and flow of life.

Now the dimming stars
foretell his numbered days.
There seems no time to ask him,
“Can we extend our ladders
and demolish these growing clouds?”

8/24/2011 – Patricia A. Hawkenson’s Reflections – I Phone

I Phone

I remember the growing feeling
of fear
with white clenched fists
watching a women trapped
in a pay phone booth
by soaring, diving, pecking
Hitchcock birds
just waiting on electric lines
to terrorize her
while running children
tried not to scream
as black clouds of birds
invade their homes.

Today children scream
with white clenched fists
and bloodshot eyes
while aiding mass destruction
‘cause Angry Birds
are all the rage.

I still have no control.

Two Wings

It has been over a week now
since I found the bird
dead in my front yard.

Others would have picked it up
to bury under the wood chips
with a farewell song.

But I let it lay
so each day can take a bit
and let grass grow through its feathers.

It has been over a week now
and the beak falls gapping open.
Its song, like mine, is gone.

We have spread our wings too far.

 

 

 

8/22/11 – Patricia A. Hawkenson’s Reflections- Stay Within the Lines

Stay Within the Lines

The box spilled
its contents rolled
and grass and flowers grew
then trees with swings
and birds flew
beyond the buildings
to the clouds
till Mama said,
“Use different crayons.”
But I colored everything
a happy orange
until I knew
what black and blue meant
and put my colors
down.

 

8/17/2011 – Patricia A. Hawkenson’s Reflections – Amalagamation

Amalgamation

It started small
just one dish left on the counter
one suitcase sitting by the sofa
one newspaper strewn on the carpet
when eyelids were down
from the depression
of their loss
that started the pile
overwhelming their soul
leaving them buried
in their possessions
till only a path
through the mountain of stuff
allowed a sliver of hope
to escape
until the hoarder
closed their door.

 

8/14/2011 – Patricia A. Hawkenson’s Reflections – When Clouds Fail

(Inspiration from: Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella – My Own Little Corner)

When Clouds Fail

On the wings of my fancy
I can fly anywhere
and the world will
open its arms to me.

In my dreams I am floating
though the gossamer clouds
and the bird’s wings
flutter against my own.

My gauzy ribbons flowing
have braided as I twirl
and I cry out
frightened as I fall down.

‘Cause failing clouds can’t hold me
as I tumble to earth
and the bird’s squawks
keep ringing within my ear.

I’m hoping you will catch me
if I die in my sleep.
Will you hold me
more tenderly than soft clouds?

8/12/2011 – Patricia A. Hawkenson’s Reflections – After Our Field Trip

After Our Field Trip

Our science teacher says that
Paramecium are so tiny
that we need a microscope
to see them living in water
like lakes and puddles,
and they have tiny hair-like things
called cilia that they beat back and forth
to make them move.

He says they reproduce
by a process called binary fission
splitting in half
becoming two new Paramecium
that continue to reproduce into a swarm
that swims around
until they find a place to attach.

He says they are eaten
by larger organisms in the water,
or by little kids who swallow
too much lake water
if they suck at swimming.

I would have said
Paramecium can make you puke,
but by the growing blob on the floor,
everyone already knew.