Thursday, September 23, 2010


Another poem, inspired by a tarantula that crossed my path during a recent hike. One Native American interpretation of a Tarantula's symbolism is "Grandmother"...


Grandmother Spider appears
And speaks to my heart
“Take care of yourself
And keep up your art.”

“Ok, I will,”
I promise her spirit.
But something distracts me
That sound, did you hear it?

I forgot to write it down,
The idea that I had.
The one that was golden
And now I am mad.

But, laundry is full
And beds are unmade.
I’ll remember it soon
When I rest in the shade.

Where’d the time go?
It’s already tonight.
The clock hands are spinning
And nothing is right.

A new day has come,
What was I thinking?
Yesterday’s idea but
A ship that is sinking.

The dishes are dirty
The dog needs to eat.
The kids are out playing
I make the house neat.

Another day gone
And another one yet
Another, another
How many do I get?

What was that idea?
The one that was gold?
I can’t recall it now
I guess I’m getting old.

One day I can’t move
In a box in the ground
Too busy to breathe
There is no more sound.

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