Monday, March 25, 2019


                                                                                   photo: Catskill Weather

i can never be old in springtime
when ice washes down the streets in rivulets
suspended soil swirls
patterns in the hurrying streams
lethal ice javelins lengthening
sound a steady drip...
                        ...    drip...
                              ...     drip...
as chill still winter nights bring cold air back
to remind that this is just a respite

the soil sweet air a tease of spring
as long as sun rains down on starving folks
just out nJoying the fleeting savory perfume
awakened sap rises in the sugar maples
and tapped trees pour their sweet life fluids
shared out into buckets
and slowly boiled to syrup
still needing the frozen nights to create their magic

I can never be old
when the creaky groan of winter loosens
and the whoosh of rushing water
quickening juice of Life excites
memories of all the springs before
and School will be out soon and
fragile spring burn into summer
and I’d be on my way to something new

I can never be old
on springtime Sunday mornings
when all the town’s at prayer
and I escape to forest glen
where worlds exist beneath thin skins of ice
collapsed in upon their fractal past
patterns bubbles waving mossy grasses
fiddleheads unfurling
the air a breath of chill
and skies as crisp as a painter’s vision
all red and gold and purple-grey against the blue
surprising as the scent of woodsmoke
caught amongst sheltering branches
just lightly touched by infant green
lush yet spare an acid enigma
klimt would understand

but just now in this delicate stasis
newborn watercolor pastels and
hints of scents forgotten in frozen air
all the dreams of youth are there
and School will be out soon and
summer stretches out before me
the garden blooming  
            possibilities endless
                        Worlds unexplored

© 2019 pamela twining

Friday, March 15, 2019


buried in the body memory
every note resounds at random times
            just one note perhaps
an entire Era
melts away and another time
            another place
shimmers into being
            transmogrifies the world

fifty years evaporate
a brittle edge breaks off
breaks open
soft liquid pours out viscous
from some sweet
            some barely identifiable wound

all along you think you’re Alive
every time you plant your foot upon the earth
you think it Means something
we look into each other’s faces
            and imagine
a moment in time that will Last
that emotion
that Love that Anger that Horror or Sadness
            that Excitement has meaning
that the World will be changed

energetic force touches changes Reality
what Is Reality?
can you touch it
            can you pick it up
                       manipulate its shape or scent
can you bury it where no one will ever see?

sometimes it only takes one
to break through the fear
the shame
of looking unlike the others
                        of stepping Forward
but just one rebel
a single moment
One Dancing Light
caring only for the music
is pulled into the matrix generating the soul
            of this night
or the last hundred years
or any time at all
in a surprising and magical way
the Walls come down

sometimes it only takes one

© 2019 pamela twining