Whim...!

a question
is posed..
touted as
most pressing as
our century unfolds:
Who am I..?

a phrase and cliche
proposes to reply
through the back door:
those talking-points
sometimes official
often serve to accuse..

the accuser
points to those points..
derides the masking
of original I am..
sad choice to repeat
health to reveal..

those points have
not just arrived..
dogmas of old
others brand new..
a sage once prescribed:
self-reliance on

Whim...!

The sage is RW Emerson in "Self-Reliance."  :)

Patience

this morning

this title introduced

through some separate

synchronous readings..

the question right now

how might patience

assist with this poem..

might it be

better to stop

stop writing just now

allow some gestation

some quiet perhaps..

resume in minutes,

or hours or months..?

hesitation quite brief 

and rough writing began..

still the end
that distant goal

an insistent completion

seemed to delay
blocking the flow..

did a fear arise

prompted by 

a finish out there..

that this poem will

never find ending..?

will likely end

as discard and refuse..

a walk.. reliable antidote.. 

there does seem

in those sometimes

an effortless flow..
other times 
impatience a mooring

so patience might grow..?

Big Bang

we all came

science does say

from a dot

a pinpoint

expanding

to all this..

but where is

that dot..?

if we say

where we live 

in our 3D

preposterous it seems..

if we say

in higher dimension

in our 4D

there would be

no space for us

no time or locality..

so we try once more

not 3D not 4D

but in between..

our universe

that dot is

 local in no locality...?

three Vantages

we start early

peering around..

the desk and chair

a solid nightstand

tire pressures

wheels always round..

 much later moments

a fleeting glimpse

from deepened despair..?

the edge of a shore

the evening twilight

definite something more..

then at last

we reclaim our past

this new vantage

a clearing light

immersed and within..

yet not entirely

our own...

the Ladder

these rungs..

on which rung

does one stand in

this morning sun..?

the bottom rung

seems firmly planted

in this shopping season..

black friday entry

frenzied desires propel

our seasonal excess..

season is dark with

light saving they say..

where is it saved..?

in bright windows

in smiles and trees..?

and we might ask

finding two faces

on this lower rung..

what faces are there 
in that rung above...?

the Square

a simple shape

a foundation

our stability 

our confident strength..

but ask we must

ask how sufficient

for our lives in

these disturbing years..

is now our time

is our honored square

more dependable

in a new light..?

dare we let go 

disconnect those corners

allow the four lines

to drift as they may..?

one mae become bold

more solid

more dark..

another fades to

a slim beam of light..

the other two

lack decision right now

end up comfortably

somewhere between..

then we notice

we cannot distinguish

which line dark

and which light..

 seeming becomings

before our eye..

 is our square

strong as before...?

Christmas Quiet

a quiet christmas

we expect this year..

travelers not arriving

just the holiday..

season shouts elsewhere..

a red poinsettia 

will be sufficient tree..

a seeming culmination

of early bells

an annual football

a brown dog

cats and icicles.. 

city lights and coastline

from a mountaintop.. 

excitement on those mornings

ribbons fleeting use..

these few memories

fill our quiet now..

but in reflection 

this quiet has not

only now occurred..

with gratitude we see

our treasured

 christmas quiet has 

through many years

endured...