Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Amanda Marie


We line pebbles
on the path,
one
for each day,
and hope for more.

Our eyes rove
the swish of leaves
in the verdant lushness
of treetops,

the bright snaps
of daisies,

the flitting burst
of butterflies
that land soft on our arms
and legs
and flip-flopped toes,

the swell
of the ocean,
dolphin-dipped
with joy.

We watch
the sky burn pink
when night falls
and the stars begin to dance;

and contemplate
how all this reminds us
of how love’s branches budded
to bring us your smile.

Maybe tonight
Gavin and Cassidy and Sawyer
will dream
of their mother’s eyes,

Derik, her voice at his ear,

and Susan
of her little girl
so brave, so strong.

Something like
God’s lovenotes
dropped
even when
we’re not looking.

And what we thought
were scattered pebbles
lost in this life’s storm

are picked up
and churned with God’s tears
and our own,

placed in His bottle
these new-polished pebbles
are jewels
close to His heart,
treasured and unforgotten,

until we see
your smile bright again
and are
together

Home.



“You keep track of all my sorrows.  You have collected all my tears in your bottle.  You have recorded each one in your book.”  Psalm 56:8 NLT



© 2014 Jennifer Wagner



Behind the poem:  a few days ago my sister asked me if I could write a poem for her sister-in-law’s daughter, Amanda, who had been a given a prognosis of two weeks to live, as a special gift to her family.  She survived leukemia as a young child and had more recently been diagnosed with cancer again.  Yesterday she passed away.  She was 31 and has three children who are 8, 6, and 4 years old.  This poem is for her, for them, the man she shared her life with, her faith-filled mom, and all her family and friends who love her and wait for the day they will be together again.  With love and prayers for comfort and peace. ~ Jen

Saturday, May 10, 2014

no matter how you spell it...

photo © 2014 jennifer wagner


if i could
i would

break off
a piece
of the sun

to give
to you


© 2014 Jennifer Wagner


Happy Mother’s Day to all the mother’s hearts out there!



© 2014 chalk sketch by me and my 6 year old.  He loves his familywe’ll keep working on the spellingsmiles

Friday, May 9, 2014

Are You Not Entertained?



We like
to do nothing.

For a moment
he found himself
looking up from the tracks

at scores of faces watching them.

“Some people were
snapping photos
or taking video with their cell phones,”
he said.

“It was amazing
seeing all these people

doing nothing,” he said.

“It was
an eye-opener.”

And we answer:

we like
to do nothing

but
snap photos
for Facebook and Instagram,
stand and observe—comment

on the misfortunes
of others
and how
the world
is so wrong.

But never
get our hands dirty

while she tumbles
head first
from the platform

we’re all
preaching from.



© 2014 Jennifer Wagner



Italicized words are from the news article by Murray Weiss in DNAinfo New York:  Humble Hero Saves Teen Who Fell Onto Subway Tracks.

Title is a quote from the film Gladiator.

Monday, May 5, 2014

freebase

Chair with the Wings of a Vulture, 1960, Salvador Dali

from broken life
to broken life
the deadlight
arises
vulturous

lit candles warming
the addicts’ spoons,
lift plumes
like blackbirds’ wings,
ominous,

cancerous
moments that free them
to carrion,
eyes nightblind
to hope threaded
in a spindle spoke sky



© 2014 Jennifer Wagner


The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 159

Friday, May 2, 2014

fair maidens


photo © 2014 Jennifer Wagner



strawberry cream
and mint
renaissance girls,
spring’s popsicle juleps,

and the deer’s delight—
who wait
for the slumbering
of the gardener-knight



© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Fuliginosity



That April of the fall
it was already the burning season;
petal-damp tulips lined
the bent road, curving west.

We donned the camouflaged windbreaker
of nomads, who have nothing but each other—
dashed from rock to rock along the river’s edge
watching flames lick the surface, catching fire
to ferns and evergreens,
and burning down the barns and silos
behind us.

We ran from it, singed, to each other,
knowing together
we’d be able to save us
and our crumpled matchbook hearts
tossed somewhere in the
ka-chunk, ka-chunk, ka-chunk
of old tracks, trained so many
miles long.



© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

Thursday, April 17, 2014

lemon blossom & lavender


my alabaster box is broken
my hair perfumed
i am the weeping woman, child
lost & found

i am like stardust
hammocked
in the web of the moon, dreamer
asleep in the blue-flame rain, cloud and fog
delivered on the dark-smoke water
eyelids stirring
in dappled light
opening to the full
s     t     r     e     t     c     h
in the sweet summer sun
when everything is new again,
believing

i am my best work
in my pajamas, cuddling
my preferred method
of communication

i am a seeker of poison
to extract from wounds,
salve when storm-blistered,
and hope when there is
nothing else

i am consumed
in crimson smolder passion
and peaceful glow, soft & bold

my alabaster box is broken
my hair perfumed
i am the weeping woman, child
lost & found



© 2014 Jennifer Wagner



photo © 2014 jennifer wagner

















For dVerse Meeting the Bar:  Self Portraits.  Brian has challenged us to write a "selfie" poem which can be "symbolic, metaphorical, descriptive".

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Honus


T206 Honus Wagner Baseball Card
Image in the Public Domain


When you’re rare
you’re worth a lot.

Even if you’re just
the kid brother afterthought
working in a coal mine
at 12 years old—

you can

dream,
believe,
become.

Like becoming
one of the
first 5 players elected
to the National Baseball Hall of Fame,

or becoming
the first
to get your signature on
the Louisville Slugger,

or have yours
be the most valuable
baseball card in history.

Like Honus,
there’s only one you,

and it might be schmaltzy
to say, but—
that’s pretty rare.



© 2014 Jennifer Wagner




Monday, April 7, 2014

Paper Mosaics



image by cohdra

 

Poems are
stained paper mosaics,

words
picked up
on the journey,
dismantled proverbs
set

in the window glass
of personal palaces
and in the stepping stones
of personal ghettos;

broken tile stories
crafted

with more blood
than it looks.



© 2014 Jennifer Wagner


Happy National Poetry Month!

Friday, April 4, 2014

In Memory

photo © 2014 jennifer wagner


what is found
when we are
broken down
to remnants, to debris?

mementos,
photos,
things we treasured,
things we valued?

as i read the names
of the lost and missing
my tongue
tasting

each   L
each   I
each   F
each   E
           
i gulp
tears
and time

91 years
71 years
69, 67, 66, 65, 64, 63, 61, 60 years
59, 58, 55, 53, 52 years
49, 47, 45, 41 years
36, 35, 31 years
23, 21 years
19 years
14 years
13 years
6 years
5 years
4 years
2 years
4 months

how quickly, each,
in a moment’s breath,
like the morning fog,
gone—

to be summed up
not by things
but by those who cared,
who knew what made them
more than mist.


© 2014 Jennifer Wagner


As of today there are 30 people confirmed dead and 17 still missing in the landslide in Oso.  I tried to get all the ages of victims down here (some victims were the same age, of course); my apologies for any I have missed.
                                                                                                                              
The team my husband is on will hand the baton to the next set of searchers and will likely be able to come home tomorrow for much needed rest.  We haven’t seen him since he left to be a part of the search but we have been able to talk.  He has some heartbreaking and amazing stories.