Poetry – Page 60 – Life Is Full of Sweet Spots

It is tempting to believe, once the year is ended, once the page is turned, that we will move on to a new and more ordered life—and it will be different. For a while, you might think so. * * * New Year’s Promise — Photo and poem by Mary O’Connor. Poem reprinted … More New Year’s Promise

Pieces of Las Vegas

October 9, 2017

for all Route 91 Harvest Festival victims they were holding hands they were dancing they were singing when the shots rang out Get down! Oh, God! it happened so fast all within seconds I can’t feel my legs I never left her side I love you, Laurie. I … More Pieces of Las Vegas

Jellies

July 24, 2017

You know how jellies are. Those gummy boneless bodies without any eyes, not even a brain, carried along with the tide, who knows why or if they have a purpose. Think what it must be like. How might they know where they are when they barely distinguish light, or that it’s night or that … More Jellies

To hum

June 26, 2017

The hummer is a precious gift. Lighter than an ounce with feathers, gowned in glittering and iridescent robe, rubies red at its neck, it hovers and hums through life. Some call them sacred as they pause above fragrant altars of time, sipping the essence of life through the straw of their long beaks, … More To hum

That Is Enough

June 15, 2017

Just to look─ to look at the sea, to follow its comings and goings, is to see beyond memory, beyond life, before and after the beginning of death. Just to think─ to think about the sea, to ponder its waves, is to find there is more, more than souls can account for, than every … More That Is Enough

Street life

April 17, 2017

Lined up along the ledge, above the streets and gutters where they huddle together, tucking their beaks under blankets of dirty wings, until nodding and bobbing their heads, they take up the spin of the world turning round— and return to the spoils of the street, eyes rimmed red. * * * Street life — Poem and photo … More Street life

Counting fish

July 28, 2016

It was a day when the ocean lay still, merging its salty wetness with the dank side of the sky and the air was thick with fish, so thick that you could see them—in full color, I might add—darting and turning through the edges of waves before losing their way in the deep. There were … More Counting fish

Last thing at night…

May 30, 2016

Listen to the foghorn moan─ pushing its throaty alarm through the weight of night, stilling the pulse of the day, erasing all distinction. Perhaps the unknown of its tone comes straight from the gods themselves, murmuring their message in primal sound. Tonight, its voice grows louder, more enchanting than in past, diving to the depths of … More Last thing at night…

Grumpy

February 8, 2016

I blame the rain. Generally, rain soothes, restores, nurtures. But not when stuck in the hand of El Nino, simply sitting, draped in the grayness of clouds, laughing heavy tears as if the light of the sun was confined to the pages of nursery rhymes, as if blue skies belonged only to painters, as if Noah … More Grumpy