April Is Poetry Month–3 poems for the first three days


I am a bit behind so decided to share three poems I wrote more than ten years ago about my favorite animal obsession, pumas. These poems were first published in my poetry memoir, On the Rim of Wonder, which is available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

I

My neighbor walked out her door

found a puma lying in the lawn.

Puma rose, stretched, disappeared.

At night when I open my gate

I wonder if she lurks

behind the cedar trees,

Pounce ready.

My daughter dreams puma dreams:

a puma chases her up a tree.

There are no trees here big enough to climb.

A Zuni puma fetish guards my sleep.

I run with puma

Night wild

Free.

I scream and howl

Moonstruck

Bloodborn.

I hike the canyon,

stroll around my house,

look for puma tracks.

I see none.

I would rather die by puma

than in a car wreck.

II

I watch for eyes, blue changing to amber and back.

I put my palm, fingers stretched to measure, into the footprint.

Too small, bobcat.

No puma.

My thin body squeezes between the rocks,

climbing quietly down the cliff.

Watching, listening, searching.

No puma.

Pale amber rushes across my vision line.

My heart quakes.

I watch; I wait.

It is Isabella, a golden whir chasing rabbits.

No puma.

At sunrise, I walk the rim,

watching.

At sunset, I walk the rim,

waiting.

At night, I walk the rim,

dreaming.

No puma, not yet.

III

I want

to walk

with you

in my dreams

scream your screams

feel your blood

rushing

your heartbeat

mine

soft golden fur

wound in my hair

your amber eyes

glowing

through my brown

death defying

together walking

moonlit

wild

free

Note: My puma obsession continues. This painting and several others of pumas hang in my house. I now have two puma Zuni fetishes. I hike in the mountains hoping to see one in the wild.

Two Poems for International Women’s Day


I.

Why

and

What

draws me

to

witches

herbal secrets

moonlight

night riding

ancient ruins

and

archaic codes.

It is the Goddess blood I carry,

remembrance of a past

when women ruled

when peace reigned

and ALL were healed.

II.

Woman, wondrous, wild

daughter of the moon,

mysterious, magnificent

fierce secret keeper

guardian of the universal key.

Note: These poems were originally published in my book of poetry, “On the Rim of Wonder”, available online at Barnes and Noble and Amazon.

Book Nine for 2025: “Martyr”, Kaveh Akbar


“She was Christian but American Christian, the kind that believed Jesus just needed a bigger gun”–part of the description of the main character’s rich, not dentist mom rich but oil, trust fund rich, blue-eyed, blond girlfriend. Cyrus, the main character is an Iranian American whose father immigrated to the US when Cyrus was a baby after Cyrus’ mom was killed when the US shot down an Iranian passenger plane thinking it was a bomber (July 1988). His dad acquires a job at a Midwestern chicken farm, counting eggs, but special eggs. This farm breeds chickens to grow faster to get to market faster. He works six days a week, long hours, until Cyrus, who excelled in elementary and high school, becomes a sophomore in college. Suddenly, his dad dies.

Cyrus becomes an addict using alcohol and drugs and writes poetry and eventually finishes college. He becomes obsessed with and researches martyrs throughout history–people like Hypatia of Alexandria, Bhagat Singh, Emily Wilding Davison, the Soulit Women. He gets sober and obsessed with his own past. This eventually leads him to travel to Brooklyn to talk to a famous artist whose last exhibit is herself talking to visitors as she dies of cancer. In researching this woman’s paintings, he discovers a strange painting of a young man dressed as an angel whose job as a soldier is to ride at night with a flashlight through the fields of the dead and dying Iranian soldiers consoling them during the Iran/Iraq War. Cyrus knows that his mom’s brother had this actual job during that war and wonders can there be a possible the connection.

Throughout these events the reader is lead to not only explore Cyrus’ thoughts and beliefs but also those of his father, mother, uncle, and best friend, Zee. It is rare for a novel to be both heart wrenching and funny. Akbar accomplishes this task. One moment I found myself laughing out loud and the next almost in tears. I could not stop reading even though the paperback is long. Perhaps my knowing something about Iranian culture, food, etc. helped me appreciate some of the book more than I might have otherwise. Nevertheless, this is a universal story about love, discovering oneself, relationships, parenthood, human nature. It is definitely worth taking the time to read.

Sunday Poem


This morning snow capped mountains

brought me joy.

In afternoon I

strolled through gardens,

lunched with daughter near gurgling streams.

Flowers smiled at me,

A bamboo forest beckoned.

Nature’s beauty overcame negativity, despair.

We will

Endure

Overcome.

A New Year


On this new day in a new year

I want you to promise yourself to

-laugh when you see the sunrise

-dance in the moonlight even if you

think you cannot dance

-remember your best day ever, then

make a new best day

-hug your loved ones, tell them you

love them

-walk in nature, touch a flower.

A new year brings no promises.

The world contains too much violence, hate.

Yet you, yes, you your precious self

can transform the world,

project joy where you think there is none,

bring laughter somewhere, sometime,

reach out to others,

send positive vibrations into the universe.

You can make a difference,

make the world a better place.

Tis The Season


Tis the season to…

Feel joy when the morning

sun caresses your face;

Laugh when you hear

children playing in the

street;

Give thanks for being alive,

having friends and family;

Walk down your street or

take a hike, touch a flower,

a tree and appreciate nature’s

simple bounties;

Remember the time your

loved one took your face

in gentle hands and smiled;

Give the gift of kindness,

peace, and compassion to everyone,

strangers, friends, family,

the unknown;

Promise yourself to live your

best self in the year to come,

to never forget that life

is a gift.

Book 45 for 2024: “How To Stop Time”, Matt Haig


What would your life be like if you did not age like everyone else? How would others treat you, your family? Would they kill your mother because they think she is a witch? Could you love someone who grew old while you stayed young? Would you have to move all over the world to avoid detection?

These are the issue the narrator faces because unlike ordinary people, he does not age normally. At the beginning he is living in London as a forty-one year old history teacher but has been alive for centuries. He’s met Shakespeare, travelled the oceans with Captain Cook, and played piano at clubs in Paris.

One organization, the Albatross Society, hunts down and “protects” people like him. Their leader has one rule: do not fall in love. He is also convinced that certain groups want to find these non-agers and imprison them for research. What is factual, real? Does life have meaning without love?

Langston Hughes in Uzbekistan


It’s 1932.

Movie roles promised to 22 Black Americans.

“Black and White” in the

Uzbek Soviet Socialist Republic.

Treated like royalty, wined, dined, at

their own expense.

Hughes–ridiculous script. All went

home except Hughes. He stayed,

traveled, saw cotton grown from Aral

Sea water–now no water, desolate

desert.

In Tashkent, Uzbeks, Turkmen, Tartars

honored him, flowers, fruit.

No English.

He met a Red Army Captain from

high Pamir Mountains. Hughes

described him, Black with Oriental eyes.

Hughes called him Yeah Man.

He called Hughes Yang Zoon.

Weeks together never understanding

each other’s words.

Hughes’ poetry book

“The Weary Blues” first

American book translated to

Uzbek. Original English version

lost. He describes this new place:

“Look: here

Is a country

Where everyone shines.”

Note: You can find a version of this book translated into English from Uzbek by Muhabbat Bakeava and Kevin Young.