Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Estuary



Conifers and
salmon,

seagrass and
shellfish—

where fresh
meets salt,

where the tide
meets the river

in a cocktail
of creation;

a symphony,
if you will,

of the Conductor’s hand
who sets the tempo

and shapes the Sound
I live in.



© 2014 Jennifer Wagner


For Poetry Jam:  Where You’re At.  Peggy has asked us to write about where we live.  I live in Puget Sound, a beautiful estuary region in Washington State.

Monday, January 27, 2014

Fourteen



Like a classic car,
or old school stuff
that never goes out of style,

like when people say, in admiration,
“they just don’t make ‘em like that anymore”

you

make me grin
and say to myself,

yes, they do.


© 2014 Jennifer Wagner




An instant classic.   
I know, I know, spoken like a Mom.  But what can I say?  I adore the kid.  He celebrated his 14th birthday this weekend.  
Photo © 2014 Jennifer Wagner










Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Osprey


Osprey



Osprey is hungry—

had the niner,
tattooed and tough,

but that meal wasn’t enough.

So, says he,
it’s off to New York,

feels like I could eat a horse.


© 2014 Jennifer Wagner


Ok, so I am having a bit of fun.  The Seahawks beat the 49ers for the NFC Championship and are going to Superbowl XLVIII to face the Broncos!  The seahawk is another name for the bird of prey the osprey.

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Old Otalgia



Compassion’s earache
sits on the tattered couch
worn thin by visitors
who came to get
and seldom returned to give.

Compassion’s earache
sips Pepto-Bismol
straight from the bottle,
waiting for someone
to take her out
for a real drink,
or at least make
her some chamomile,
pop in a DVD,
and rub her feet
once in a while.

Compassion’s earache
has thick-skinned,
broad shoulders
even when we are
too blind to see them droop,
too thin-skinned to care,
and too deaf to hear her
when she calls for us to listen too.



© 2014 Jennifer Wagner



I’m back from a little blog-sabbatical and it’s OpenLinkNight at dVerse!

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Sky's Advent (a Fibonacci poem)



Stars
fill
and spill
the black orchid
night streaked silken with shimmering,
all flickering in remembrance of one so small.


© 2013 Jennifer Wagner


Thursday, December 12, 2013

What Flavor are Your Snowflakes?



Remember when
snowflakes
came in our favorite flavors—

running to catch them
on our tongues,
delighted smiles
on our faces?

Mine’s peppermint!
MmmGrandma’s peanut brittle!
I got egg nog!
Cinnamon!

Catching them in our hands,
licking the

dark chocolate-orange,
licorice,
sugar plum
flakes

drifting
and catching in hollows

where mittens
dipped
and
lifted
and
savored

in the perfect snow globe
of our imaginations.

Do you think we’re meant to
carry those wishes
with us
as we grow?
And as we grow,
that they should grow too?

Imagine—

clean water
filling hollows,
a fresh well
for life.

But that’s my flavor,
what’s in your snow globe?





2.5 billion people in the world do not have access to adequate sanitation.  That’s one in three of the world's population.  Poor water/sanitation/hygiene is the second leading cause of death in children under the age of 5 in the world, sub-Saharan Africa being the top affected region.

Statistics and information:

I can’t personally vouch for any of these organizations/charities as far as donations and outcome.  I’m doing research myself for our family to get involved.  Here’s to impacting our world with our dreams.  Happy Holidays!

Monday, December 2, 2013

Bloom & Float




Let’s put our thinking caps on;
we can come up with something—
I’ve always longed for a way to fly.

Somehow I knew
if we picked enough weeds,
cleared enough fallow ground,
we’d bloom and float.

It’s true,
dreams can happen
when another thing dies—
like saying goodbye
is hello to something new
in another tongue.

We just have to remember
to hold on
in the dark
where we’ll finally find—ourselves
above the clouds, among the stars.



© 2013 Jennifer Wagner




A couple of months ago Claudia at dVerse offered us the opportunity to write to the fascinating and inspiring artwork of Catrin Welz-Stein.  I wrote this piece but had never posted it (it was my son’s birthday and a busy time).  So I’ll be submitting it for OpenLinkNight!
 

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Proven

International District, Seattle WA
Photo © 2013 Jennifer Wagner



Afterward
she felt just like
the used condom,
            discarded
amidst the cigarette butts
and partially eaten food.

The refuse
stacked up,
lining the side streets
and back streets
of the insides of her,
piling up
on her chalk outline.

Wasn’t she
what had been done to her?

But the point of no return
to what               
she thought of herself
was the road less traveled,
            a cross in the path—
and the journey upward,
a process
littered
with the things
she has chosen to leave behind;

and that has made all the difference.



© 2013 Jennifer Wagner


A little bit of a spin off Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken.


Monday, November 18, 2013

bliss




a love note/poem from my hubby
via refrigerator magnets
photo © 2013 jennifer wagner



a soft tangerine moon
glows there
where i put my hand over your heart,

feel your breath slow and even
chest rising, falling
            rising, falling

and i can’t catch myself, either—
from drifting off
into the green poem
of us

where you
lift me up to the branches
to catch my footing,

where the
light shines through
its trembling leaves.

i hold them tight,
let the sun play in angled drops
on my face, close my eyes to
feel the favor
of your smile,

and then open them again
to focus
on eden appearing,
in the closing
of the blue distance.



© 2013 Jennifer Wagner


dVerse OpenLinkNight 

Monday, November 11, 2013

Simply Jesus




your blood blooms still 
© 2013 Jennifer Wagner





When there’s not enough hyssop
to cleanse me of all these flaws—
I think I must live with them,
make slow improvements
with the
tick tick tick
of time’s cruel elements.

I know too well this unruly thing
inside me is me,
but there, too,
is the me that hungers for her first love

somewhere buried beneath
bruising, hardening, scarring
it throbs,
however disjointedly.

I am not a girl of
ritual, rules or religion.
I only know that at fifteen
I just wanted
to hold Your hand.

And now,
beyond church
and the things they add to it all,
and bitter politics
and the things they take away from it all,
and morality,
and all these rules I break—

I stand here today
wondering
when did I ever get the idea
You were not enough?

In dark,
in cloud,
in lightless days,
Your blood blooms still.

And I remember
I never needed
anything else anyway.



© 2013 Jennifer Wagner






1 Corinthians 2:2-5.  And I, brethren, when I came to you, did not come with excellence of speech or of wisdom declaring to you the testimony[a] of God. For I determined not to know anything among you except Jesus Christ and Him crucified. I was with you in weakness, in fear, and in much trembling. And my speech and my preaching were not with persuasive words of human[b] wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, that your faith should not be in the wisdom of men but in the power of God.