Poetry by Julie
I've never been one to write much poetry. When I tried writing it as a younster - as most teenagers do - I found my efforts to be stilted and angsty. As I get older, occasionally I try some again and the results have varied. (Note: I'm not finding as many poems on my hard drive as I thought I had, so this page may be a little sparse until I track down more of my past efforts.)
Colors of day
Yesterday was relaxed,
a cool blue faded into midnight.
The day before a loose-jointed warm auburn gold,
transformed by time and steam and smiles.
Today is tight emerald green,
small steps toward end of day
where love greets me with sweet honey mead.
--September 28, 2000
Less of me
Day by day,
there's less of me.
Each day,
more growth.
Layer by layer,
I'm revealed.
Coming to know
who's under there.
In becoming less,
I'm becoming more.
--August 28, 2000
Winter's Love
I see you sleeping,
There in your chill, white shroud
I smile knowing soon
You will wake and see me
Your smile bright and brittle
Love will blush your colorless lips
We join together, you and I
To become one, transforming
Warming in my arms
Begin anew, silver to emerald
Changing, rising
New born, entwined still
Awake, and let us grow
--March 10, 2000
Song
thrumming
excitement and anticipation
lean forward, firm stance
music flows upward
through the body
birthing voice
meets waiting air
trembles, hanging there
just a moment
and bounds outward
--February 25,
2000
Look Again
Back through the window
time shows me how different it was
the loneliness and fear
of trying too hard
or not trying at all
It's been a long road
well-travelled
and now at the crossroads
stepping forward with new life
smiling partner at my side
I can wipe mist from the window
and really see how far I've come
--February 24, 2000
step barefoot on soft blades of dark green grass
sniff breezes, smiling, from the nearby barbecue
wipe dust from the baseball field off your brow
and then try to tell me that summer isn't here
and that life isn't good
--July 28, 1999
My poetry sings in the wild, sappy greens of the long
summer days,
the sweet, overripe brambles that catch in my hair as I push through.
It feels like the ordered, sawedged leaves ot the fern, soaking up water
at the base of tall trees.
It tastes of pools of sunlight and dandilion spores, hot and moist and dry
and sopping wet, depending on where next I step.
--June 24, 1998
Marcie
I thought of you today
I thought of you yesterday
I will be thinking of you tomorrow, and every day after
You're with me every day, because part of you is always part of me
Your laugh
The flash of your smile
The happiness in your eyes as you look at your children
The memories of watching you play
entranced by your fingers
Of sitting beside you, feeling I was part of the magic
Of laying in the grass, watching the sky
finding shapes and thinking as children think
Of listening to our voices soar together
toward the heavens
knowing God heard us
feeling the richness of our lives
I thought of you today
I thought of you yesterday
I will be thinking of you tomorrow, and every day after
--September 14, 1998
I feel best when sitting at waters' edge
warm in the sun
breathing
listening to nothing
and everything
--undated
Believing me
I've been told all my life
I'm a liar
I know that look
that plainly condemns me so
Disbelief
Disgust
Annoyance
They can't imagine that I could
be telling the truth
Their reality is not mine
I know who I am
What I do
It's what I hold on to
--undated
Vision of Life
I dreamed last night of a house in which we've never
lived.
Small, simple, old fashioned, sitting calmly on green, patient land.
Its front yard a broad expanse of naturally trim grass.
Rimmed with short hedges, broken only by an arch of roses through which ran
the path inside.
The path was unpaved, instead, trodden by passage.
But still, it was tidy as it ran under the arch, past the line of rose bushes
nearby, to meet with the front door.
I could almost see friends and lovers long gone tending the fragrant
bushes.
I felt their spirits there.
Pets past and present and scratched and yawned lazily in the waning sun.
We sat in the back yard, where you'd tended the garden and flowers.
The rest of the yard curved over the back of a hill.
A stand of evergreens covered the hill in their dark comfort of dry needled
ground.
Their branches began higher than I could reach.
Underneath, many limbs lay untended, waiting to be gathered.
On one side in the back wound a small, swift stream, swollen with rains.
On the bank were horses, tethered to downed trees.
For the first time in my dream I heard a sound, and I briefly clasped your
arm.
And pointed to where in the stream an old tree began to move.
Pulled by the water, it rolled into the current, dragging other logs with
it.
And the horses.
Our family sat nearby, unconcerned.
But you and I watched as the water claimed both wood and life.
The horses joined the water gratefully, it seemed
They did not struggle but to pull the logs further and faster in.
And then were gone, but for two.
Huge draft animals, white but for splotches of cream, and I rose from my
seat to meet them.
My hand extended.
"Don't touch them," warned a dour relative, "they're wild and will hurt
you."
I turned back to you, and you were standing behind me.
You didn't say anything, but remained as a comfort.
I turned back to the horses, and the smaller of the two moved toward me.
Curious, it unceremoniously snuffled my outstretched hand.
It allowed me to stroke its soft, cream colored nose.
Then moved away, ignoring the relatives, toward the other horse.
But it didn't leave.
It was going to stay.
"You can't keep them," another relative said. "They're wild."
You and I just smiled, and nodded, unconcerned.
We walked toward a side yard, discussing the home.
You spoke of building more, so others could move in, too.
I was concerned about fees, and being allowed to build more, and there being
enough for all.
You knew how to take care of it, you said.
It wouldn't always be easy, but somehow everything would be provided.
And then I awoke, and I lay in my warm bed.
Marvelling.
Discovering.
Knowing.
--undated
I'll follow you, the rocks and trees.
Sounds of the rivers, bending to please.
Weight of the sun, laying light on my back.
Thoughts that wander down familiar track.
--undated (unfinished)
I never knew I could really feel this way
I was a sceptic
I loudly scorned
all those mushy, romantic feelings couples claimed to feel
that made them do nausiating things
and fawn over each other adoringly
Oh, I tried to participate a few times
and know I came close to that kind of love
I tended to choose the wrong target for my affections
But now it's all clear
what people have been talking about for so many years
I never thought it would really happen to me
For not only am I in love
I'm terribly, magnificently, unrepentantly in love!
Now I understand Jane Austin
and love is Fabulous
As for me
I've simply
come into
my soul
--undated
Writing it down
should I write it down
all these thoughts of who I am
where I'm going
whether it's worth it
and I laugh at myself
sounding angst-ridden
as a teenager in the midst
of a full fledged tantrum
sounds of fiddles and pipes
trickle from the next room
and chuckle at my self pity
"Wo-wo-woooorth it?"
the dog blinks her brown eyes
wrinkles her nose, licks my toes
all the words I need
to know it's worth it
--undated
Grey Day
it's grey and still
and feels as if only I
alone, live on this morning
no, I hear birds there
and machines nearby
the pup whimpers at my feet for attention
thinking, I know there are others
but for all that
my heart feels unoccupied
--undated
Seeing
I dream of flying
side by side
through clear blue
flash of white
whisper of fin
a look in the eye
tells me we're kin
--undated
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