chalk

I like the transiency of chalk art

inhabiting the same space

as Tibetan sand mandalas

impermanent as sunshine

or that look

you almost gave me

over your shoulder

parting

with a tug

that says

I’ll be here

until it rains

David Trudel       ©  2013

some days

some days emerge fossilized and stratified

revealing undercurrents of flow interrupted

time weights

broken as shakers shook

lying busted

 

some days sit rocky

heavy and ponderous

but hardly impervious

hardly

 

some days are ground

down

ground

into pieces

minutely

into beaches

where time

ebbs

 

some days are the moment

the tide is full

directionless

waiting for a pull from a slingshot dance

 

some days skip

flat rocks slapping

wet kisses at ten minutes to midnight

 

some days are always rocky

 

 

David Trudel   ©  2013

 

 

Retriever

Every morning she walks her dog along the beach

Alone with her thoughts

She knows what size of stick to scavenge

For the dog to retrieve

It’s become a formal ritual for them

She chooses the stick

Pretends she doesn’t like it at all

Throws it as far away as she can

The dog explodes with purpose

To get the stick and to return it

Each time she throws the stick

She releases a little tension

Gives away a worry or a fear

The dog retrieves the stick but not the worry

That’s part of the ritual

The absolution of innocence

Washes her troubles away

 

 

David Trudel       ©  2013

 

 

Thank You

I’d like to take a moment to say thank you to my readers.  I have some very faithful visitors to this site and I am humbled by your interest and support.  For those of you who also write I apologize for not visiting your sites as much as I should.  Again, thanks for reading what I write.

 

 

Enough

Sometimes it’s enough

Sufficient

To simply experience a moment

By itself

Without thinking about yesterday and tomorrow

It’s enough

To watch dusk slipping into night

As the heat of the sun radiates from the rocks

Where you stand barefoot

Empty

Just enjoying the impossible shades of bruised violet

Unburdened

Having found tranquility

In being unable to shoulder burdens

Things that are too heavy to lift

I am no Atlas or Sisyphus to take on the impossible

It is enough to stand on this rock

Without worrying about carrying it

And through the freedom of the unburdened

Discover peace in the eternal now of a sunset

 

 

David Trudel     ©  2013

 

 

Portent

In the thin heat of late summer

Every picnic is bittersweet

As leaves bleed green and turn to rust

July’s refreshing breeze

Is now a portent of autumn storms

Flights of birds climb airstairs

Chanting their exit visas

Winging it

Still, the day holds heat enough

To shorewalk barefoot

Letting gentle tides kiss your toes

With the languor of a late afternoon lover

Satiated with passion

But not with affection

 

 

David Trudel    ©  2013

 

 

Chores

Today is a day for small chores

Bringing water like some forgotten sky god

For my green prisoners

Next, I vacuum

Stirring the dust and detritus

Harvesting peanut shells and dust bunnies

For memories and lost thoughts

My routines are commonplace

Comforting in their normalcy

Giving me the illusion of some fragile permanence

That might stand against the intransigence of power

Forgetting that state control is as prevalent here

As it ever was in war zones and dictatorships

Where terror slams like bullets into unarmed crowds

And poetry is bloodwritten on pockmarked concrete

By the dying

Who no longer water houseplants

But bleed out their innocence on city streets

 

 

David Trudel    © 2013

 

 

Fin

In these echoes

Of fin de siècle somnolence

We wait in apprehension

Of the next great conflagration

 

When we wake up

Again

After it all

It will seem so quaint

The way we live now

 

In such fearful security

Balancing the knife edge of

Civilized barbarism

Against possibilities of miracles and magic

With one hand on technology

And the other placed above your heart

 

All you want

Is one more day

Of normal

One more day

Until it starts

 

 

David Trudel        © 2013

 

 

Disdain

It was only a moment

A slice

Like a knife into the centre

Of my heart, or something

Something, since you didn’t even know

Your eyes betrayed you

And you were unaware

Blissfully

Of the knife in your hand

Which, nonetheless, slid between ribs

To find a mark

Crossing off another

Claim jumper

With a look

 

 

David Trudel           ©  2013

 

 

 

 

Flare

With all your flaws and demons

Your troubles and pain

You still burn with starlight

Bright enough to require sunglasses

When I see you

Blazing

I think solar explosions

And fusion

A celestial beacon

Signaling unmatched intensity

A crucible

Where thoughts and actions

Explode

Into fractured reflections

Creating brilliant mosaics

To mark your passage

 

 

David Trudel    ©  2013