Christopher Paul Stelling (Folk Fest '17 poem #3)

fast fingers on six strings

colour harmonic circles

around fine saw-tooth voice

singing circles of melody

around circles of thought

for here is a

troubadour of old

tatty hair and beard

facing circled crowd

with fearless eyes

summer orb is

a cotton shirt on

gathered seekers

taking on this hard life

surrounded with resonating song

Sarah's dieffenbachia

there’s something big in the back seat

she’s moving you see

and everything must be stored for a month

blonde hair tresses shoulders and

she struggles carefully

but can’t get it out cleanly

a branch breaks off and a cloud settles

she nursed this plant from a small cutting

to large sturdy big-leafed presence

and now half is broken off

like a broken heart

can it be saved      salvaged         set right

maybe broken branch can form new tendrils

living roots that can summon

water out of rich soil and live

it’s worth a try

summer day alone

it’s quiet and empty without you here

and the wind moves

through the trees swaying

leaves

and the Saturday paper

lies on the

driveway

and the sun shines

through the clouds

sometimes

and the garden hose

curves through the

grass

and the clover patches

on the lawn grow

taller

and its quiet and empty without you here

and I try to

keep busy with this and

that

and the cat meows

he needs to be

fed

and the tv blares

on and on about

Trump

and the guitar sits

silent in the

corner

and it’s quiet and empty without you here

and I think about your

heavy heart as you say

goodbye

and I wish I could be with you to help you

walk this path one step at a

time

and it’s so hard

to write down this

love

and it’s quiet and empty without you here

Trump Haiku #6

breaking news      our world

broken by stomping tantrum

of child president

Roger and Henry

it’s more like a yodel

his meow I mean

as he climbs up stairs

or wobbles on bare feet towards the bush

or searches out the window

looking for

our cat

soft-footed gliding

tail swaying elegant as a ball gown

seamless as a Renaissance mass

boy

pure beautiful curiosity

approaches fur

hand outstretched

makes contact with

other magical life

whiskers and all

True April

birds are back

suddenly singing morning

I rise from warm sheets

and listen to stippled ceiling chirps

waking dank early spring into

green April promise

so season begets season

and I look through window

and see avian congregation

like a blankandwhite still of a Hitchcock film

red-winged black and sparrows and tiny finch

on the lawn driveway and in the maple

feasting on seeds and worms

until the bully robins enter scene

and chase the others away

like thieves on the run

but this is all fine

because I feel like a foundling

listening to Bach for the first time

caught dumbstruck by this new life

in our unroofed universe

so unlike the bombastic trump-world

of tomahawk missiles of lies

and lies about lies

for this bird chorus is truest of true 

Jonah Blacksmith (folk fest '17 #2)

grandfather’s large fire-iron hands

nimbly grip mandolin

smallest of stringed instruments

forging love and family

boys off to side

eyes embracing ears elating

this maker man

inspired

infused

involved

in love

until now under pure prairie sky

shaping nimble anthems

on anvil

of large life and fiery energy

Brandi Carlile (folk fest '17 #1)

she’s got that

permanent

smile

not just her lips

but whole face

in fact her whole being is a smile

eyes

hair

stance

standing stage

with sun-dance vigour

voicing thrilling veins of ore

from  american depths

and gliding above

like the triangle craft

sweeping in a curve above the

grounds where we sit in

our groups within groups

and dream-dance in this eye of calm

hurricane surrounding and

we

are

the

smile

when I said goodbye to my last class

when I said

goodbye

to my last class

I played Bohemian Rhapsody

and The End by The Beatles

and then I sang

Ring of Fire

strumming like Johnny

I took the knife

sharp     heavy

and cut the strawberry shortcake

into 14 pieces

one for each

while we ate I glimpsed

into the hard growing up teen world

of

          making

ones

way

and then I said my last goodbye

my red shirt receding into the past