let her molt begin

baby birds in a nest
she never knew
such greedy mouths
could feed her will to thrive!

her heart pierced by shafts
of pinfeathers fledged
and chirping calls soon to fade~

when will her molt begin?

The first line of this piggyback poem comes from The Horses, the Sorrow, the Umbilicus by Maureen Hays and her poetry prompt at Real Toads. I’ve been blessed with the chance to watch a Mama Bird build her nest, incubate eggs and valiantly defend them from such predators as myself who just wants to keep the flowerpot green and blossoming, but can’t resist snapping a picture or two as her babies grow. and apparently, anthropomorphizing-the-heck out of her along the way. Long live all Mama Birds!
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laugh or cry?

birds's next with eggs
We cushion their nests

with soft feathers and grass,

with no thought given

to the cost of love and time.

When they fly,

shall we laugh or shall we cry?

 

my mother cannot leave me be

Man and woman standing arm in arm.
My mother cannot leave me be —
she points and clicks repeatedly!
No stage in life is left uncaught,
no quest complete without one pic,
no outing done without one print.
My mother cannot leave me be –
she points and clicks repeatedly!
Each exploit is an o’er-turned stone
of purple shore crab memories
untainted by reality.
My mother cannot leave me be —
She points and clicks repeatedly!
There are no mysteries of time,
each snapshot proof of days gone by
in Kodachrome reality.
My mother cannot leave me be!

picture home

Woman Dancing statue

each day i walk past
and wonder if form followed
function before her still life

to out-of-town guests
she is a hidden surprise
dancing in their memory

Chèvrefeuille’s Carpe Diem #1478 Harbour challenge gave the option of using the photo he provided as a prompt or one of our own. The photo I used was a picture I took of the “Woman Dancing” statue in my hometown. She has always intrigued me, and given half a chance I take guests for a stroll along the Capitol Campus to see her and other public works of art. 

help me see

This one deserves just a touch of explanation. I’m still sorting through all the photos I took from the June 30 Families Belong Together rally. One of the things that grabbed me was the attendance of so many families with babes in arms through youth. This is so important! Our children learn from us at our sides. Including at community rallies! They learn about what we believe is important, what we value and are willing to work for and support. They see people of all ages, all abilities, all walks of life joining together in common cause. The picture itself reminds me how important it is for folks no matter their opinion to take the time to really try and see, hear, and understand what the other person is saying. That happens only when we kneel next to them and look at the world from their perspective.

coast-to-coast


I’ll change “cling” to “clung” when all children are reunited with their parents. Taking a cruise through the news outlets leaves me with some trepidation that this will ever be fully accomplished, never mind meeting the court-ordered deadlines. For instance:
Donald Trump has no answers for the border crisis. And things are about to get worse.
CNN Friday July 6, CNN reports that at least 2000 children are still separated from their parents. And since the President’s executive order doesn’t override a 1990’s Supreme Court decision regarding length of time children can be held in immigration detention facilities, family separations could start happening again in the next few days.
For Trump Supporters, the End of Unlawful Immigration Justifies ‘Zero Tolerance’s’ Means
A key thing I remember growing up was my father’s absolute moral certainty that the ends never justified the means. In the black and white days of my childhood, that made a certain amount of sense. In the mishmash of today’s world, however, it can be tempting to find a lever, or a change agent — something, anything, that will make the political and civic system function again.
Trump Administration in Chaotic Scramble to Reunify Migrant Families
I work for state government. There’s no excuse for missing records. Everything civil servants do is a matter of public record and disclosable by law with few exceptions. All this shows is a purposeful and appalling lack of documentation, and apparently, the deliberate destruction of records and identifying information.
Immigrant Children Under 5 Will Be Returned to Parents by Next Week, U.S. Official Says 
The item that pops out from this article is the sentence in which Secretary Azar states that “the Department of Homeland Security didn’t tell the refugee agency which children were taken from parents and which came over the border unaccompanied. The agency is now reviewing the cases of all 11,800 children in its custody to determine whether they were separated from caregivers.”
When will separated families be reunited?
Indeed. When?

summer’s heat

For all those who took part in the June 30 Families Belong Together action. And for all those who wanted to but could not, and those who watched from the sidelines, and those who turned their backs. But most especially for those who cry at night for their mothers and fathers, and for those parents whose children have been ripped from their arms. Grieve with me that we repeat the same mistakes. Grieve, and then find your strength to stand together and say “No more! This is not who we are.”

oak and steel

who knew eyes came in such chocolate brown? you
didn’t know their depth would feed such want --
his kisses promised sweet red wine drizzled in time to
russet regrets; routinely he would weep, yet still take
from the tree where humanity first began her
decline; no hand to cover what the serpent slid by
with a gentle rustle in the
springtime grass, to twine ‘round the stem
raised in illiterate toast where the words to say
were never said, where the woman
becomes child again; well, what did you
expect? when little hope is shared, what have
you to left to give? hope never waited
for two into one; hope, instead, was an
ill-bred trickster who promised eternity
in return for arms of oak
to hold the world at bay, and
even when his eyes turned to steel
you cast tears aside to
welcome him home to the only place that let him be
the man he swore he would be every time you kissed!
think, girl, think! of all the nights you spent by
the closed door with drawn shades; you were a ghost
waiting, waiting, ever waiting to be kissed by this empty man.
My first attempt at a golden shovel poem. A very interesting form, indeed! In a nutshell, the poet chooses a line or lines from a poem and uses each word as an end word in the new poem. The end words must be kept in order, and the original poet is credited.  I selected the following three lines from stanza 2 in this incredible poem Melody Chen wrote, Dionysus:
“i want to take her by the stem, say
woman, you have waited an eternity
oak and steel, to be kissed by a man”