shamash says...

"Alone is..."

Day 19 of 30:  Our GloPoWriMo 2019 prompt for today is to write an abecedarian poem – a poem in which the word choice follows the words/order of the alphabet.

"Alone Is....."

broken-hearted in the school
cafeteria, feeling so
different from
every other kid with the mansion on the hill or

feverish on the
gurney, wheeled to the surgeon- or
hopping on a bus, solo, a walking stick
in hand or

jumping with parachute from the plane
knees scraped in the
landing, that single leap so worth the
mid-flight scream or

never jumping
on the bandwagon nor
pulling the same rope, just
quietly serving a dinner for one or

reeling at the sight of ink drying on divorce papers, or the
stand-alone witness, the whistle-blower, or
the only musician playing on stage, the spotlight dimming
until dark. At the

very least,
we come to earth as solitary creatures, not
xerox copies looking to congregate. Some of us are scouts,
yearning to see life beyond the company of others, outside the

zoo.

 

~by Kat Shamash ©2019 Kat Shamash

Image "Sea Lantern, Candlelight at Dusk" ©2019 Kat Shamash

"Garlic Press"

Day 12 of 30:  Our GloPoWriMo 2019 prompt for today is to write a poem about a dull thing that you own, and why (and how) you love it.

Garlic Press

bulbous clove
garlic squeezed into
stir fries
with onion and maybe mushroom
two seconds quick clutch,
the clench and then again more
that silver press
the tang and paper skin washed away
then jointed leg put to rest in
metal rack to dry:
robot knee kneels overnight

such a gentleman waiting

 

~by Kat Shamash ©2019 Kat Shamash

Image: "Garlic Press & Garlic" by Kat Shamash

"Home"

Day 11 of 30:  Our GloPoWriMo 2019 prompt for today is to write a poem of origin. Where am I from?

 

Home

Born in human suits,
Earthlings
on a blue
marble spinning in
black space
around the
nearest sun

before this:
an extreme location

we remember, sometimes--
we children, we dreamers ---
drawing before-time
with our crayons and
on the walls
of caves
going somewhere else
in our sleep
floating somewhere, sometimes,
in our sleep
glowing lights, sometimes,
in our sleep
knowing, sometimes,
in our sleep
that we won't remember
when we wake that
that the event horizon
is somewhere
far, far way
and closer
to home

 

 

~by Kat Shamash ©2019 Kat Shamash

Image: NASA Apollow8 Dec24 Earthrise

"Peace: Black and White"

Day 7 of 30:  Our GloPoWriMo 2019 prompt for today is to write a poem of gifts and joy. What would you give yourself, if you could have anything? What would you give someone else?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Peace: Black and White"

 

drop all the color

for just a day

 

choose something simple like

the dark brush, the bristles on

bleached canvas

the invisible

curve,

the evaporating water

on the concrete walk that

circles the lake

 

drop all the color

for just a day

 

contemplate

a solid word printed on a page 

a stamp on a white envelope

 

drop the symphony.

consider, instead,

a sheet of music fluttering in the wind

 

forget the game

notice the chess board,

the set of dominos

 

for one night, exchange your dance moves,

the disco ball,

for one long stretch of a tiger cat or

downward facing dog

 

drop all the color

for just a day

 

yawn and

admire the poppy seed, the daisy

 

stay home on a Friday night.

embrace JOMO

The Joy of MIssing Out

stir mushrooms in cream

in a pot

on your kitchen stove

 

leave all the spices in the rack and for

one weekend just

honor the salt.

the pepper.

 

exchange your wok for a cauldron

 

give yourself

warm river stones and sand

 

drip almond milk in tea.

drop a single coffee bean through the clouds

and watch it float in your

glass

 

spoon caviar on the china plate that

clinks in your kitchen sink

drink warm coconut milk and melted chocolate

bring out the linen tablecloth and

cloth napkins

 

drop all the color

for just a day

 

give away all your boas and sequins

place in your hair

the feather of a dove, 

the feather of a raven,

wear muslin, white linen,

a carriage cap

 

drop all the color

for just a day

 

contemplate

the snowman’s charcoal eyes

and what remains after

a day in the sun.

 

step out of your bath

onto a

white towel

wrap yourself in cotton

 

drop all the color

for just a day

 

breathe in

all parts of

yourself

 

give yourself permission

to love

the silhouette of one

lone witch

flying across the face of

the moon

 

 

 

~by Kat Shamash ©2019 Kat Shamash

Image "Open Air Breathing Room: Lama Foundation" ©2011 Kat Shamash 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Wood and Stone"

Day 3 of 30:  Our GloPoWriMo 2019 prompt for today is to write a poem that takes time.

"Wood and Stone"

My name in German means "pure"
I was born this way to a mother
of alabaster skin
and a father who wore
the deacon's suit

Tiny girl on the church pew,
I sat and listened, an
eager spy
with her ear to the
door of God.

Everything was wooden then
Pulsing with the afterlife of trees -- 
The church bench, the pulpit,
The doorway, and even
The doorknob,
Smooth and painted black.

But then, the blaze:
Orange tongues
Licking away faith
Scorching arms
Wrapped around all that
The carpenter made
In the end, nothing left
But cinders.

The only thing holy, then,
Was stone.
I am now the pilgrim god-seeker,
The gypsy, the wandering hobo.

The Temple of Artemis, Ephesus
The Cididel of Machu Pichu, Peru.
The Pyramids of Giza, Cairo
The Columns of Medusa, Istanbul
The Monastery at Petra, Jordan
The Ruins at Chichén Itzá, Mexico
The Tiawanaku Temple of the Sun, Bolivia
The Ring of Stones, Stonehenge

Oh, Greeks, Oh Romans
Oh Incas, Oh Pharaohs,
Oh Nabateans,
Oh, Mayans, Oh Aymara
Oh, Druids.

Your cold stones are beautiful, but silent
As my grandfather's gravestone.

The face of God?

It is not in wood.

It is not in stone.

The divine is the alabaster skin of my living mother,
The breath of my aging father,
The deep and generous filigree of roots
Under the ground
Of the tree outside my window
And the leaves upturned to
Sky.

"Stonehenge"

Day 2 of 30:  Our GloPoWriMo 2019 prompt for today is to write a poem that transforms the natural world into an unsettled dream-place and resists closure by ending on a question.

"Stonehenge"

 

Summer solstice

Double-decker bus

Just in from Glastonbury- maybe Wimbledon

Parking lot crowded

Sightseers with

Audio phones pressed to their ears

Muted and servile, cattle-like, gawking 

Touching the ropes and signs that warn:

“Do.  Not.  Touch. The. Stones.”

The sandstone ring, the bluestone, the sarsen

Carved four thousand years ago and

Off limits to everyone but

The Druids.

********

Across Salisbury Plain

Lonely sound of wind

Whips 

Raven’s shadow circles close

Stone posts carved from boulders lugged in from Wales

Rise against the storm

Drums beat loud to Celtic tunes, caped figures dance,

The toes of the troubadour shoes point and curl,

Velvet hoods,  tall staffs, a single hand extended,

A gust moves the long beard of Merlin,

In the yellow sky a message: an incantation from the

Woman warrior with outstretched arm and the long

Red braid.

What is her prophesy?

 

********

Turn off the phone. The car. The lights.

Forget the tele.

Light a fire.

Circle round.

Beat the drum

at Stonehenge.

Call in the powers of North, South, East, West.

To Salisbury.

Listen closely.

Press your ears to the stones.

What do they have

to say?

 

~by Kat Shamash ©2019 Kat Shamash

Image "The Morrigu, Phantom of the Celts" by Howard David Johnson

 

"Stonehenge"

 

Summer solstice

Double-decker bus

Just in from Glastonbury- maybe Wimbledon

Parking lot crowded

Sightseers with

Audio phones pressed to their ears

Muted and servile, cattle-like, gawking 

Touching the ropes and signs that warn:

“Do.  Not.  Touch. The. Stones.”

The sandstone ring, the bluestone, the sarsen

Carved four thousand years ago and

Off limits to everyone but

The Druids.

********

Across Salisbury Plain

Lonely sound of wind

Whips 

Raven’s shadow circles close

Stone posts carved from boulders lugged in from Wales

Rise against the storm

Drums beat loud to Celtic tunes, caped figures dance,

The toes of the troubadour shoes point and curl,

Velvet hoods,  tall staffs, a single hand extended,

A gust moves the long beard of Merlin,

In the yellow sky a message: an incantation from the

Woman warrior with outstretched arm and the long

Red braid.

What is her prophesy?

 

********

Turn off the phone. The car. The lights.

Forget the tele.

Light a fire.

Circle round.

Beat the drum

at Stonehenge.

Call in the powers of North, South, East, West.

To Salisbury.

Listen closely.

Press your ears to the stones.

What do they have

to say?

 

~by Kat Shamash ©2019 Kat Shamash

Image "The Morrigu, Phantom of the Celts" by Howard David Johnson

 

"How to Practice Gratitude"

Day 1 of 30:  Our Global Poetry Writing Month 2019 ( #GloPoWriMo 2019) prompt for today is to write a poem that gives the reader instructions on how to do something.

"How to Practice Gratitude"

Close your eyes.

Hold the mango in your hands like a prayer for two long, delicious minutes
then
take a bite.

Hold the hand of a grandmother for a spell.
What does she say? What does she not say?

At midnight, in the dark, light a candle.
Remember the 13th century.

Find a stranger, a colleague, or a cousin --
Imagine, for a while, walking in her stilettos.

Listen to someone twice or three times or four times older than you.
Listen to someone twice or three times or four times younger than you.

Mine for sound.
Listen for something new in the meadow, the dark city, the tide.

Close your eyes.
Find new rhythms in hip-hop, jazz, the spoken word.

Say thanks to all things wing-ed:
The raven, the butterfly,
The plane, the angel.

Look long and tenderly at all that is within the walls of your home.
You live on an altar. It is sacred. 
In the street and in the forest, find the holy places.

Like a spider, think of gratitude as
a gathering in of
the exquisite and the necessary--
all of it suspended
on one thin and fragile net.

Look out the window.
Notice the transience in each ordinary thing.
Study the changes of the seasons.
Note the shift in the time of daybreak and sundown. Chart the movement of the storm cloud.
Honor the equinox.
Know the moon phases.

Notice it all and bless it.

Notice it all.

Notice it.

Notice.

 

~by Kat Shamash ©2019 Kat Shamash

Image "Moon at Night" ©2019 Kat Shamash  

 

 

 

Close your eyes.

Hold the mango in your hands like a prayer for two long, delicious minutes
then
take a bite.

Hold the hand of a grandmother for a spell.
What does she say? What does she not say?

At midnight, in the dark, light a candle.
Remember the 13th century.

Find a stranger, a colleague, or a cousin --
Imagine, for a while, walking in her stilettos.

Listen to someone twice or three times or four times older than you.
Listen to someone twice or three times or four times younger than you.

Mine for sound.
Listen for something new in the meadow, the dark city, the tide.

Close your eyes.
Find new rhythms in hip-hop, jazz, the spoken word.

Say thanks to all things wing-ed:
The raven, the butterfly,
The plane, the angel.

Look long and tenderly at all that is within the walls of your home.
You live on an altar. It is sacred. 
In the street and in the forest, find the holy places.

Like a spider, think of gratitude as
a gathering in of
the exquisite and the necessary--
all of it suspended
on one thin and fragile net.

Look out the window.
Notice the transience in each ordinary thing.
Study the changes of the seasons.
Note the shift in the time of daybreak and sundown. Chart the movement of the storm cloud.
Honor the equinox.
Know the moon phases.

Notice it all and bless it.

Notice it all.

Notice it.

Notice.

 

~by Kat Shamash ©2019 Kat Shamash

Image "Moon at Night" ©2019 Kat Shamash  

 

 

 

"Mesopotamia"

Day 9 of 30: Global Poetry Writing Month and National Poetry Writing Month

 

"Mesopotamia"

the small and
the big

the king and
the king kong

the fish and
the fish monger

the jet and
the warship

the camel and
the the desert

the writer and
the censor

the village and
the sandstorm

the child and
the bomb

~by Kat Shamash

 

 

©2018 Kat Shamash 

image "Camels" ©2018 Kat Shamash 

 

#GloPoWriMo2018 #NaPoWriMo2018 

"Silence"

Day 5 of 30: Global Poetry Writing Month and National Poetry Writing Month

 "Silence"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                      Photo: "Flight" © 2017 by Kat Shamash

 

 

"Silence"

Was it gravity that pulled you
through? A tunnel? A curiosity, an intent?
A great waterfall?A funnel? Did the wind
rush through? Did you forget your chute?
Did you try to hang on? Was it a
struggle? A surrender? The distance is
too far, too dark for me find my way even with
these structures of Jacob's Ladder lights
ascending and descending on this escalator

turn around one last time, my dear. step off that
dark path of sadness to smile, and laugh.
don't slip away to someplace unreachable
someplace silent without leaving us something luminous.
we are living fossils here breathing
we are the moss where angels walk
no one should ever feel they have to go alone.

 

~by Kat Shamash

© 2018 Kat Shamash (April 5, 2018) 

The poem in original Japanese is by Toshio Nakae

#GloPoWriMo2018 #NaPoWriMo2018 

 

Day 4 – GloPoWriMo - "Wealth"

Day 4 of 30: Global Poetry Writing Month and National Poetry Writing Month

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Wealth"

the pink sunglasses
the cat eyes and the valet
the bikini coverup in the girl's bathroom
and the fingernails combing hair,
tanned bare feet
on tile shipped in from Italy

the laugh like rain
the feather-gold coins
on bronzed skin
the boa giggle, the wink

infinity pools, liquid crystal
the sighs
the cabana that costs $700 to reserve
curtains and couches
the blue green ocean
the same color
as
the sapphire ring
on the pedicured
toe

mirrors and marble
calamari, ceviche
taffeta and teak

the fast swipe of the plastic, the strong arm
the bruise
that pays for it all

 

~by Kat Shamash

© 2018 Kat Shamash (April 4, 2018) 

#GloPoWriMo2018 #NaPoWriMo2018