Poem

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Happy Birthday, Neil

birthday soon
leaves begin their autumn dress
eager wind rushes to receive
only in dreams, summer remains
—Neil, 2021

As many of you know, my dear friend and fellow blogger, Neil Reid, left us last November. Today would have been his 78th birthday. In honor of his kind heart and beautiful writing, I’d like to share with you two poems that will be in our poetry collection coming out next spring. The first one I wrote in honor of Neil, and the second is a favorite poem of his. He had a way of stringing together many different ideas to make you understand a deep truth. The photo above is of his beloved dragon statue which made it’s way to me. It’s magical, like him.

I miss him so much.

If you have a favorite Neil memory, please share it. Or, if his writing is new to you, read more and let me know what you think.

farewell

you are my moose
four legs rooted in soil
stars dancing in dark pupils
sniffing for ripe plums
running from wolves

you hand me threads
wrapped around words
unraveling big pills
not wooden, real live boy
feet kissing earth

you turn toward light
living moss-covered verbs
bowls of ocean water
melt like sugar does
children need sunlight

you wanted Neverland
stories told under willows
hunger turned into warmth
forgetting ancient lost faces
harvest moon dancing

you call me mother
as in honey comb
solid tree branches
bend into dream blossoms
nests, fragile eggs

you remain soft bear
flowing tidal kindness
snuggling soft memories
chocolate cake, closed eyes
embrace salty breath

you return home
tail, fin, gills, scales
shyness turned into galaxies
unafraid of unknown shapes

love is a bucket
we keep filling
forever

—Bridgette

tell me words

when I can’t quite see you.   unclear.   obstructed.
cluttered by stray thought.   sound but no sight.
although more than an arm’s length away.   or,
maybe it’s just smoke.   fine bits of something
recently burnt.   a particulate suspended mass.

     describe smoke


when I called, you came to me.   only a few steps
measured away, but it meant you had to get up,
get out of bed.   something in the dark looked
awry.   my height marked in pencil, ascending
on the doorway jam.   yours by a calming hand.

     describe mother


she was always there.   more than anyone.   her.
feeder of stray cats, any cats.   hands that held
no threats, not to anyone.   a gingham dress.
always.   at least my always.   memory bigger
than me.   mother of mother.

     describe Janet


you come from out of the ground.   you come
from mountaintops.   you come from high and
grey and green and white and dark, clouds we
say.   one drop at a time still makes an ocean
to waiting watchful acolytes.   thirst.   we drink.

     describe water


 check mark all of the above.   a first beginning,
eagerly.   tell me all the stars.   tell me all the
worlds.   tell me about me and about you.   I’m
all ears.   I’ll bring the old cooking pot.

     describe everything

 
you come from the ground when I call.   you answer thirst.
you bake bread.   I comb your hair.   cat’s asleep on the bed.
you are rolling brown grass hills.   my hand knows the curves.
you are a bowl of soup.   you are inside when outside is rain.

     describe loving

—Neil

You’ll forever be my water, Neil. Happy Birthday.

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poetry: night sky

some say we return to stars
light returning to source
but I won’t say it to you
as your child left too soon

instead I’ll focus on moonlight
grief rippling across the land
a sliver of silver beside Venus
how small words feel now

once he pulled my giggly son
across a green lawn over and over
“you can stop anytime,” I said
he shrugged, “but he’s so happy”

some say we will meet again
across the rainbow bridge
but I won’t say it to you
as your boy left too soon

*Dedicated to my aunty Nel and my cousin Josh. I wish I could be there today to celebrate his life with you. He will be greatly missed. I love you all.

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Rainy Day in America


wetwalking she crept
into darkened oldwoods
bumblebush wept
missing sweetgoods

teardropleaves watch
fairies hiddenbreath wish
forgivenot bitter scotch
weave hopeful freshstitch

sisterthorns together cry
tornfists stitched anew
silkhands won’t comply
our earthbodies stay true

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  • As always, all photos were taken by me with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW.

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poetry: night drive

am i road splitting two dry fields. crawling
toward certain death. unnatural
instincts. unknown breath. furry-mouthed 
bloodied brethren. witness destruction
inside looking outside. who feels
what. ask the real questions. dare me.

i am mother holding. hands clenched
wheel turning. stop music. folding. heart
races. breath lost. feelings aren’t 
truth. outside looking inside. where
did you go. still here. rearview mirror
sees wind. bright eyes. keep asking.

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poetry: knock, knock

Let’s pretend you are a door and I slam you hard. You rock in your frame briefly and wonder why I’m so mad. You don’t say anything though, because you are a door. I wash you with a soft pink cloth the next day until you shine. I tell you I love you and I’ll slam you again. You forgive me because you are a door.

Let’s pretend I’m a door and you always walk through me. I try to look nice but my wood is splintering and my handle is loose. You don’t notice though, because I’m a door. It’s not until you get a splinter from my wood you see me. You tell everyone to look at how broken I am. I say nothing because I’m a door.

Let’s pretend two doors meet each other in a long hallway. Just a couple of doors out for a walk. “You look broken,” the polished door says. “You do too,” the broken door says. They lean against each other saying nothing else, because they are doors.

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poetry: tar

no experience fighting
speaking my words
changing your mind
I throw black tar at you
hoping it sticks
until it does

vomiting old wounds
without my mask
there’s nothing left
but burning guts
destruction looks ugly
and so do I

you run from me
now a villainous fool
as I cover myself
folding up again
swallowing my poison
with a glass of wine