Category Archives: Musings

Proof

When
you’re driving
down the road
feeling content 
listening
to The Rolling Stones
bobbing your head
tapping
your left foot
you realize
in that moment
everything
terrible
that’s ever happened
in your life
is behind you–
that you got through it
that this moment
proves
none of that s***
was big enough
or bad enough
to keep you down
on the bottom
where
you were so certain
you would stay.

DeMaris

9-25-17

September Revelation 

Dearest
It occurred to me
Only today
That I might not
Love you
Forever
Or uninterrupted
That whatever we are
Might just
Be for now
For the time being
Until something
Happens
To bend
Break
Sever
Our bond
Which is only
A feeling in the air
Between us
And someone else
Might step in
To take you
Lure you
Steal your heart
Or my heart
Away
Which happens
All the time
Because I am not
The only one
And you
Are not
The only one
Who can make me laugh
Or bring me
The kind of joy
That inspires
A commitment
To the lie
That love
Is irreplaceable
And always true.

DeMaris
9-21-17

Harbors 

The storm flares up
and glass-like waves
rock
rush
crash
into you
and there are
two ports
nearby—
one barely lit
with
an intermittent
glow—
you aren’t
yet sure
of its dependability—
but the other,
farther away,
has a brighter light—
seems to have
everything
you’ll need
in a harbor.
You turn
in its direction
hoping it’s safe—
hoping
you made
the right choice—
now, all you can do
is follow
its illumination
pulling you
onto its shore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
9-13-17

 

Mind Reader

Where are you
you absent one
who knows
that now is when
I need something
large and warm
to crawl into
something like
an old quilt
with lots of color
and comfort
something marsupial
with a heartbeat
something easy
to get out of
when I’m weak
with uncertainty
and no sense
of direction
where are you
when I am lost
in dysfunction
no one can see—
where is the question
I need you to ask:
Are you okay?
And I won’t even
need to say no.

 

 

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
8-15-17

“Woman with Red Umbrella” By T.C. Steele

The Dawn of Man

The stick.

How long did it lie on the ground
before some freshly-human being
picked it up and reached into the tree
with an astonishing new arm—
straight and long with an accurate aim?

The fruit fell down.

How long before it caught on—
until everyone else saw the sense in it?
The way it made life a little easier
and a little more fun.

Was it unintentional,
that first violent contact?
The stick coming down accidentally
on the head of a brother—
the fruit rolling away
from the splatter of blood.

Such an event
must have ignited some pre-fire temper
that swelled into an agonizing grunt—
and though there were no words yet for apologies,
it was clear what kind of pain was possible
with this new tool.

Imagine, now, the others—
open mouthed, slowly backing away
from the one who made the accidental blow.
And when his reason told him to show them the culprit,
the perpetrator raised his stick above his head.

When they shrank to the ground
and covered their heads,
he felt a rush of control
and was the first to realize,
before language could explain it,
that fear was a kind of power
which would never be improved.

 

 

 

DeMaris
7-24-11

 

 

 

 

Waiting for the Wildflowers

All winter
we wait for them—
for the surprise
of blue
or yellow or white
and we take
their picture as if
they were babies
we want to show off
to our friends!
Soon they will
become confetti
for the celebration
of spring—
a reward
for enduring
that colorless season,
which will wait its turn
to come again
while summer
flaunts its green
and autumn leaves
cover the woods
in a blanket of orange—
but today, the
Harbinger of Spring
is stirring
and whispering
wake up
to the snow trillium
and bluebells
and yellow buttercups
that will fill the air
with a fragrance
so sweet
we might forget
what trouble
grows inside the houses
we left behind
to spend a few hours
strolling
through this carnival
of hope and rebirth.

 

 

 

DeMaris
2-27-17

In a Nutshell

 

Your photos
your smile
my poems
your river
your activism
my admiration
my daydreams
my curiosity
your wildflowers
your tulip tree
your birds
our hiking
our laughing
your butternut squash
the snow
the silence
the sharing
the listening
your curiosity
your daydreams
our fire
our clothes off
our skin touching
our love
our adventures
our sycamore
our secrets
our lies
our hope
our limited time
your blackberry jam
your broken bone
my sympathy
your patience
my patience
my wish
became our wish
and somehow
it’s coming  true.

 

 

 

DeMaris
2-24-17

Yes.  I know this is a really shitty experimental poem.  Thanks for hanging in there till the end.