MAP
106
Theme
At long last like (Can you commit to love?)
Issue
107 - Poems of Thanksgiving
Issue
108 - Tribute to Neruda/Paz/Lorca
Issue
109 - Past Lives I Have Led
Thanks
to all who have sent me your poetry. Apologies to those who got your
"Colors" poems in late. It was a popular theme, I might yet
run it again.
I'm
still getting such positive feedback from the Hosts with the Most
Coast to Coast series (someone suggested anthologizing), I'm
scheduling a reprise for early Y2K.
Here
are this week's poems for "At Long Last, Like"
1.
From Georgia Popoff of Syracuse
Today
I
lit candles
to
soothe the heart of a lover
Blue
that
peace may press
her
fingertips to his temples
ease
his eyes into sleep
hum
a soft lullaby
Blue
notes to quiet the pounding
Green
a
tonic
a
bath
an
ocean
A
mountain
This
morning
after
lighting candles
after
a short
quiet
prayer
I
heard the yearning
of
an animal
previously
unknown
to
my yard
It
was a raspy message
It
was the voice of pain
accepting
its healing
©
1999 Georgia Popoff
2.
From Sharla Clos of Houston
Woman
In Waiting
journeying
to music of Native American Tongue
I
find myself lost in the vast RainForest of my own
reality
unknown
Listening,
I can feel and hear waterfall spray into
Worlds
unknown
waiting
just one step outside my own
veil
of existence
and
I know someday
yes,
someday you will come into my reality
waiting
and
you will be worth the wait
for
I
find in you
magic
I
have found in no one else
the
simple touch of your hand
or
gentle grace of your smile
gazing
into my eyes of blue longing
and
I
may question
why
we must wait
or
why
we just can't go with it
and
let what is meant to be
simply
be
in
all its beautiful and bountiful
glory
yet
at the same
I
also know
that
in
pushing
I
will only push
not
only you
but
the hope
of
you
further
away
from
my existence
and
then
I would have lost
more
than I could have
ever
gained
©
Sharla Clos
3.
From my very dear friend Jan Houston of Plano.
Discovery
Waxing
in
your steady elegance
my
frightened brashness
falls
away
as
shy noise
meaningless
within
your
peaceful kingdom
I
take courage
in
your quiet humility
I
find my own decision
and
speak because
these
silent ferns
that
drape
the
rain hushed garden
these
sleeping nested birds
the
patterns
of
red fallen leaves
on
wet moss stones
they
sing of England
yet
cannot honor you
nor
know
how
more
than
loved
I
am
so
softly blessed
enjoying
your deep
goodness
and
the grace
you
place around you
kindly
blessed
to see
such
playful promise
shine
to me
from
your amazing eyes
Never
a
rain
more
perfect
a
garden bloomed
more
glorious
than
in each fraction
of
eternity
I
am allowed
to
see you happier
my
new found friend
whose
laughter
breathes
the Spring
how
easily
I
could want
never
to be
without
you
in
my life
©1999
Jan Houston
4.
A should-have-been-among-hosts-with-the-most is Faith Vicinanza of
Connecticut
A
Poem For Tuesday
in
your hands I am all ink and pen
writing
myself into the soft flesh at your throat
into
the uneven terrain of your shoulders
but
the words fade as quickly as I write them
so
I write them again and again
each
time you pull me
to
you
©
1999 Faith Vicinanza
5.
It's my great pleasure to give you a poem by Dillon McKinsey of
Austin.
Unrequited
Ecstacy
The
fragrance of your body haunts my breathing--
With
every inward breath you enter deep--
And
when I let myself exhale,
My
breath refreshed is sweet.
I
have not been to Paradise,
Or
eaten quail or heaven's bread--
But
when my thoughts are filled with you
There's
feasting in my head.
And
when imagination,
Like
a painter rich in art,
Mounts
the scaffolds of my hungry soul,
There's
beauty in my heart.
We
have not kissed but ether's plane
Our
lips yet long to do--
But
I have sampled something, love--
For
now all tastes of you.
©
Dillon McKinsey
6.
From Kathleen Coleman of Oklahoma
like
wind and waves
Love
is
Hands
open
Life
lightly held
Caressed
Touched
Held
like wind and waves
A
venturing trust
Confidence
In
the simple, exquisite blossoming
Of
goodness
As
open hands
Give,
receive
Like
wind and waves
Whose
flow and press
Pass
between fingers
Reaching
out to feel
©
Kathleen Coleman