Poyetry

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Stealing Candy

When I was a little girl
I stole candy
When my mother's back was turned.

Now I am a grown-up.
I steal candy
When my fellows' backs are turned.

When I hunger for sweetness,
I steal candy,
To fill the hole in my heart.

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Friday, December 08, 2006

Whitewater

Whitewater
by Betsy McKenzie













My stream,
Smoothly
Sliding,
Flowed through
Silent woods.
Midway down the whispering stream,
There came a sudden change.
Big rocks, then boulders,
Riffling and crashing the
Smooth flow.

Whitewater
Mixed with air,
Flashed with light.
What was crystal,
Deep and smooth
Suddenly became
Froth, roar and splash.

Spirit forced its way
Into the watery matter.
In time, the fizz and froth,
Exhausted, subside,
Unless there comes
A sudden cliff,
More interrupting rocks,
Breaking up
My smoothly flowing
Stream.

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Thursday, October 12, 2006

Inspired


I ran across a "blog of note," Three Beautiful Things. Apparently each posting is a short meditation on 3 lovely things observed. They are often small things. This is a terrific practice!

* Exhilarating discussion, tossing ideas back and forth, vigorously arguing. It's like playing tug of war with a puppy.

** Disassembling a dying bouquet. Petals falling softly against my hands. Some leaves are still alive and chipper.

*** Bells in the nearby church playing hymns while flocks of pigeons swirl overhead.

The painting, Flying Pigeons by Alok Bhattacharya, is available at http://www.domusartgallery.com/gallery.asp?cid=2 which features Indian artists.

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Tuesday, October 03, 2006

Cripple Tree

Cripple Tree
by Betsy McKenzie

A crippled tree,
Broken by a bolt
From the sky, and
Bent crooked.
By decades
Under the weight
Of its leaning
Partner
In the forest.

Yet it lives.
Grizzled,
It puts forth
Green leaves
In the spring.
And nuts
In the fall.

Birds nest
In its
Tangled crown.
Frogs sing
In choirs
Among the
Branches
Raised to heaven
Like arms
In praise.

It pushes
Forth
Its life.
Like water
From a
Small spring.
Pierced
To the
Heart,
It yet
Explodes
With the
Light
Of Life.

Oct. 3, 2006

The marvelous image of a bent tree comes from Dennis Paul Himes' blog on hiking he has done at http://home.cshore.com/himes/dennis/traillog/traillog.htm The photo was taken in the Green Mountains of Vermont according to the blog, at Long Trail, near Glastonbury Mountain, June 12, 2005. What awesome photos and amazing hiking!

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Saturday, September 30, 2006

Masks



















Mask
by Betsy McKenzie

Do you wear it,
Or, does it wear you?
Does it live
Through you?
Does it hide you?
Or is its purpose
To hide the world from you?
Or, frightening to consider,
To make the world more
Real and clear?

Sept. 30, 2006

We all use masks every day. We put on a polite mask when we decide not to fuss at the slow check-out person or complain about the person in front of us with way too many items for the express lane. But inside, we might be seething. We may put on a stern mask when we chide a child for naughtiness while inside we are chuckling over the exploit.

But there are masks and masks. Some are just the wise decisions that smooth the skids of civilization; masks of courtesy or training We tell white lies with some masks in order not to hurt feelings, start a fight or teach a bad lesson.

Some masks are the result of our different roles in different situations. We are a child to our parents, while we are parents to children in our lives. We are employees to our bosses, and sometimes, we are bosses to others. All these different roles require a different mask, and the mask may change over time. We are not the son or daughter as adults that we were at age five or age fifteen.

Some masks, however, are the product of our choices. We choose to express our anger aloud, and in certain ways. We might express the anger often, or only on rare occasions. We may express it violently, in passive-aggressive ways or through grumbling We might wear a mask that tries to express what we think others expect of us, rather than what we really feel (or don’t feel).

And we become the mask we choose if we wear it consistently. While we are teens and young adults, we try on different masks, testing the fit and performance before we finally choose the person we will be. We try on masks of irony and comedy. We test masks of tragic heroines or victims. But finally, we work out who we are, partly a choice, partly how we were raised, and partly the culture we happen to live in during our lifetime.

What happens, though, when you suddenly feel the mask? It makes things very hard if you keep thinking that your emotions are mere masks, assumed for convenience and courtesy. I find it very unnerving. It’s like noticing that the floor beneath your feet is see-through and that the wheeling galaxies are visible beneath you. Or suddenly realizing that you can see the bones, tendons and muscles beneath your skin. Is any of this real? I can’t tell if I feel or merely pretend to feel because it’s expected.

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Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Balloon














I am a balloon,
Leaking energy
instead of helium.

Instead of soaring
On the arms of the wind,
I sink,
Tangling my basket
In the branches of the trees.

What pin pricked?
What patch gave way?
Where is the tank
For a quick recharge?

Never will I float
Across the ocean,
To the delighted arms
Of a stranger.

By Betsy McKenzie
Sept. 6, 2006

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Thursday, August 24, 2006

Shadows on a Cloudy Day



Shadows on a Cloudy Day
by Betsy McKenzie

Ghosts of shadows,
Mere shadows
of their fomer selves,
Faintly following,
On a cloudy day.
They drift.
They glint.
They blink and
Flitter
In and out
Of being.
The slightest
Brightening
Brings them back.
Hints of
Depression
Turning back up
Just when you
Think
The sun is back to stay.

Aug. 24, 2006

The decoration for this page is from http://www.polarimage.fi/clouds3/shadowa.htm.
Thank you Pikka!

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Sunday, June 18, 2006

Yin and Yang



Yin and Yang
Betsy McKenzie Jan. 11, 2006

He is neat and careful, meticulous and tidy.
I cannot get through the day without smudges
Of ink on my nose, shirt tails coming loose.
He knows where everything is, or thinks he does.
I used to, but totally lost control, gave it up.

But his boundaries are tight.
He never would have tried
Szechuan, Mexican, Thai
If not for me. Even broccoli
Is one of my small victories.

When we work crosswords
What he can’t do, I can.
We are a team - in puzzles
And in life. Yin and yang.

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Two Souls

Two Souls

Measure the glass, half empty, half full.
There is so much fullness to gladden my heart!
The miracle is that two wounded souls
Could find the courage to love another.
Two wounded souls found a way to build
A highway to the future,
A twiggy nest against the elements,
Against predators of the heart.
I love you, my partner,
My soul.

Betsy McKenzie
For Jim, Jan. 7, 2006

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Water Strider


Water Strider
Betsy McKenzie









Like a water strider on a brook,
I skitter over the top of my psyche.
I count on the surface-tension
To hold me up from the depths.

God protect me from the dark things
That lurk beneath the surface.
Like voracious trout, they loiter in the shadows,
Waiting for the moment to strike me, pull me down.

Or I can be thrown off balance
By all manner of ripples and whirlpools.
I skim past, thinking all is safe and over,
And find myself overturned and tumbled down deep.

February 13, 2006

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