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saffronsound
https://saffronsound.wordpress.com
Peace, trees, butterflies, bees. Keep your heart so open the wind blows through.Sun, 15 Oct 2023 03:21:19 +0000en
hourly
1 https://wordpress.com/20170754https://s0.wp.com/i/buttonw-com.pngsaffronsound
https://saffronsound.wordpress.com
Farewell, Louise Glück
https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2023/10/14/farewell-louise-gluck/
https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2023/10/14/farewell-louise-gluck/#respondSat, 14 Oct 2023 05:28:24 +0000https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/?p=1339Continue reading →]]>
When hearing of a death, it’s usual to wish a soul to rest in peace. However on this day, I don’t wish that for Louise Glück, poet and wordsmith; I wish for her that her soul will scrabble and scrounge though matter, through dirt and sand and sky or whatever surrounds her, and find a pocket of air, a pocket of life. That her soul will find hands to shape a mountain of new words, hold a pen, scratch a new poem in the infinite that surrounds her.
Early December in Croton-on-Hudson A Poem By Louise Glück
Spiked sun. The Hudson’s Whittled down by ice. I hear the bone dice Of blown gravel clicking. Bone- pale, the recent snow Fastens like fur to the river. Standstill. We were leaving to deliver Christmas presents when the tire blew Last year. Above the dead valves pines pared Down by a storm stood, limbs bared . . . I want you
]]>https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2023/10/14/farewell-louise-gluck/feed/01339saffronsoundLet Down
https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2023/10/14/let-down/
https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2023/10/14/let-down/#respondSat, 14 Oct 2023 05:18:21 +0000https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/?p=856disappointment burns an ulcer
it scars the esophagus
no wonder crows caw
]]>https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2023/10/14/let-down/feed/0856saffronsoundsaid the mountain
https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2021/03/07/said-the-mountain/
https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2021/03/07/said-the-mountain/#respondSun, 07 Mar 2021 04:17:34 +0000https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/?p=1331we didn’t thrust ourselves up from the oceanic crust that many millions years ago so bored hikers would have a place to toss their non-biodegradable plastic water bottles even if they are aptly named with words like cascade and purelife
]]>https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2021/03/07/said-the-mountain/feed/01331saffronsoundI Forgot You Then
https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2020/11/02/i-forgot-you-then/
https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2020/11/02/i-forgot-you-then/#respondMon, 02 Nov 2020 05:56:44 +0000https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/?p=1322Continue reading →]]>The sun was sleeping And her people too A quiet unstirring Disturbed only by The lake water Lapping against The granite shore A blip, a splash An unsteady rhythm Repeated infinitum Carving and tumbling The rocks Softening their edges Dragging grains of sand From shore to inland sea Lake ebbing and tugging As if it were begging All sorrows To follow her seiche To the ends of the flooded earth Where only fish and water exist Or swimming souls Find their freedom
Shed the roots Shed the dust Shed what troubles
Water is the body And in water A body floats Or so the ancient story goes From a wet womb We birthed And to her We shall return Earthen memory washed clean It matters not anyway
]]>https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2020/11/02/i-forgot-you-then/feed/01322saffronsoundShaded
https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2019/11/05/shaded/
https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2019/11/05/shaded/#respondTue, 05 Nov 2019 04:40:56 +0000https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/?p=1318Continue reading →]]>
She wore a soft hat
That flopped slightly
And shaded
Her right eye
Sometimes she tripped
On roots or curbs
From the shadows
That hat threw
But still she tromped
Down alleyways or
Through bramble fields
Always in the hat
And her step
Somewhat askew
]]>https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2019/11/05/shaded/feed/01318saffronsoundUntil Then…
https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2019/09/01/there-i-said-it/
https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2019/09/01/there-i-said-it/#respondSun, 01 Sep 2019 06:11:05 +0000https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/?p=1308Continue reading →]]>
I find myself in need of help. There. I said it.
What a humbling and unexpected thing to say. A crippling thing, really; it leaves me hunched, almost crying, grappling for words, not wanting to say anything because to be misunderstood is more painful than a dart though the eye. It’s incongruous too: I’m a warrior, a fighter, fierce and tough and ready to fight or drag heavy loads up long arduous hills. I might bi*ch and complain along the way but I don’t give up. Quitting is for quitters, which I am not.
I said “almost crying”. Because that’s the problem. I can’t cry anymore. Can’t feel anything at all, really. Can’t taste. Can’t feel. Can’t smell. Can’t smile. I just can’t. Most importantly, I can’t write. No poems. No songs. Nothing. Words belong to someone else. And for me, there is nothing if there aren’t words flowing out of me.
Of course there are words for what this is. Words from other people, layered on me, heavy like woolen blankets, weighing me down. I don’t need those words, I live them.
What I need is the buzz of a bee. The stopping of a clock. Time to let the haze of a summer day settle on my skin. Time to marvel at the winding tendrils of a delphinium, watch wily squirrels jumping, hear chickadees dee-dee-dee-ing. Is that a house sparrow or a song sparrow? Do butterflies mate for life? What do the needles of a spruce tree look like? Dang, who knew an air plant needed more than air to survive? I need time to buy five more air plants, and permission from the air plant society that I’m allowed.
But I have hope. Somewhere, buried deep in the loss, under the relentless layers of demand, the heaps of pressure and worry and sadness there is a word. And that word will stutter and crawl and claw its way out…it will drag other words with it and they’ll lock arms, entwine limbs, march together in unison. A sentence will demand backup and suddenly a poem will shove out its chest, refusing to back down. That poem will breathe. That poem will have wings and legs and fly from flower to flower. That poem will adore bees.
Until then…xo
]]>
https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2019/09/01/there-i-said-it/feed/01308saffronsoundmoth on flower_iona beach_smSpoken Tree Poetry
https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2019/06/22/spoken-tree-poetry/
https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2019/06/22/spoken-tree-poetry/#respondSat, 22 Jun 2019 01:26:03 +0000https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2019/06/22/spoken-tree-poetry/Continue reading →]]>
I always knew
that trees could talk
and now science has
proven it so.
Aren’t you sorry
for all the stories
you missed,
the lost hellos,
and goodbyes you
never waved?
And won’t your heart
fill with sadness
when you learn
they sing too,
but never a love
song sung for you?
]]>https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2019/06/22/spoken-tree-poetry/feed/01305saffronsoundBaseball
https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2017/07/05/baseball/
https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2017/07/05/baseball/#respondWed, 05 Jul 2017 13:28:14 +0000https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2017/07/05/baseball/She died last Tuesday, while
Watching a Blue Jays game
In that big, comfy armchair
That made her feellike a queen
No one noticed
Because the bases were loaded
]]>https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2017/07/05/baseball/feed/01303saffronsoundBlackbird
https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2016/11/21/blackbird/
https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2016/11/21/blackbird/#respondMon, 21 Nov 2016 06:58:52 +0000https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/?p=1250Continue reading →]]> One day the ceiling of heaven
Exploded
Empyrean everywhere
Feathers spackled the air
And dead poets
Somersaulted down
Birds and words
Fell over themselves
Tumbled and jumbled
Twinned and conflated
Until even a discerning eye
Couldn’t dissect one
From the other
On that day men with
Guns and tanks
And silver-tongued snipers
Ran roughshod
Over the sky
Sonnets dropped
Like shot geese
Into a lake
Too far from shore
And there they sank
Sirens sounded then
A mighty roar
You’re better than this
It blared
But we weren’t
And we didn’t
Couldn’t or wouldn’t
And it didn’t matter anyway
The poets knew it
The birds knew it
The bullets and sparrows did too
Blank pages piled up
In a crumpled heap
And birds huddled on a wire
While the guano grew
Knee-deep, beneath them
And the sun baked it all
Into a hardened crust
Four and twenty blackbirds
Baked in a pie
Four and twenty writers
Shot through the eye
]]>https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2016/11/21/blackbird/feed/01250saffronsound2016-11-12-09-52-43nothing to see here
https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2016/11/04/nothing-to-see-here/
https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2016/11/04/nothing-to-see-here/#respondFri, 04 Nov 2016 06:20:26 +0000https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/?p=1240Continue reading →]]>all the broken people
and what can we do
I’ll pick a thread on my blouse
and you’ll sing out loud
look at the broken people
we should have a drink
who won the game tonight and
does my makeup look alright
]]>https://saffronsound.wordpress.com/2016/11/04/nothing-to-see-here/feed/01240saffronsound
