mjh's blog

The End of National Poetry Month

For the record, I posted one of my poems every day during the month of April, except for one day, when a technical glitch stopped me. Moreover, I have 47 poems on my blog at this time (one is up twice and I don’t want to delete the duplicate).

http://www.edgewiseblog.com/mjh/category/poems/

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Where Is She?

When I come in from the garage
the dog’s look asks,
“Where is she?”
Gone, I say, she’s gone.
He stands at the door
head tilted, he listens
for you.
I open the door
and he walks around the car
pausing to look up into the
windows on both sides.
“Where is she?”

All night he sits by the window
rising up at any sound
he looks and waits
for your return.

And I am there beside him
sharing his hope
for your return.
Where is she? _mjh

6/19/2004

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Poetic Justice

1.
The burglars kicked in the sidedoor
and invaded our kitchen
stealing 22 years of safety
and a cheap TV.

2.
We painted that kitchen
in a project which
began with stripping ugly wallpaper and ended
with a pretty security door a week too late.

3.
Thieves ransacked the dresser
she bought from her landlady in Virginia,
the top strewn with a lifetime’s sentimental baubles
pawed through by worthless thugs.

4.
In the garage,
a thief spread the contents of the glovebox
over the seats,
as if taking inventory before a long trip.

5.
Back at their hideout,
the burglars exclaimed,
“Man, those people had nothin’ worth stealing.
We were robbed.”

9/16/2009

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Birdsmith

The poet stands before a cage of birds,
contemplating his next words.
He snatches up a finch
and deftly dips its feet in ink,
stamping glyphs across the page.
All the while, the bird sings softly,
adding a common tone
to this pedestrian poem.
Returning the finch to its pen,
the poet mutters,
"I should have used a wren." _mjh

11/24/2009

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surrounded

the alpha wolf dreams
she is on her greatest hunt.
the prey is worthy & strong

her twitches and yelps
awaken her pack
they stand around her
recognize the cues
this is a great hunt.
as one, they lay down
and close their eyes

and she is surrounded again
by her pack
moving endlessly towards the kill mjh

8/18/04

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dry spell

It is so nice of you
to ask about my poetry.
“Anything new?”
Only seeds
on fallow ground
my personal drought,
I reply dryly
through cracked lips,
my laugh the crunch
of leaves & snap of twigs.

In my hands this paper
browns and curls,
the pen melts,
and in flame
I remember
some seeds need fire
some brush must burn
before we grow. mjh

11/2/2003

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A Finger in the Eye

Another recycled post for Earth Day 2010 (originally posted 3/28/07):

Billboards are a finger in the eye. An erect middle finger. A billboard is a selfish and cowardly statement. It says anonymously, “my profit is more important than the environment.” It places personal gain ahead of community values. Every billboard in the world should be pulled down by angry mobs.

Isn’t this picture beautiful? Doesn’t it make you proud to live in New Mexico? The mighty Tijeras Arroyo is already doomed by Mesa del Sold. In the meantime, enjoy the view. As you drive this stretch with its dozen billboards, notice most are for Clear Channel, the owners of most billboards. Buy stock and demand they get out of this business.

Farther south, Isleta shows what Indians really think of Mother Earth, with their dozens of billboards north of Los Lunas. No stoic native with a tear in his eyes at the sight of all the garbage — those are dollar signs.

Where’s your shame? mjh

‘Billboard King’ Reid Looks to Leave Mark on Senate War Funding Measure By Elizabeth Williamson, Washington Post Staff Writer
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