My Poem: Nightmare

This two part poem was written when I was in college. The second part is based on a real nightmare that was so intense I fainted in the dream and awoke in a cold sweat with my heart pounding in terror. It was the final term of my senior year at college and I was determined to earn straight As and graduate with honors. After the nightmare I immediately made changes in my schedule and stopped my volunteer tutoring in the PSU Writing Workshop, since it was obvious that I was overextended and on the verge of some sort of melt down. I have used my dreams and nightmares since then to help me monitor my hopes and fears.

Nightmare

No time--

I'm late!!

Hurry to classes,

Don't make excuses,

Eat on the run,

Read on the bus.

(Sometimes I wonder if I'll make it through.)

My calendar warns me that midterms are due.

Finally finished,

I read what I've written

and find it all rubbish,

my efforts in vain.

Visions of FAILURE

like black curtained hearses

slowly and silently

file through my brain.

Exhausted and empty,

I drop on my bed,

my alarm set for five,

and close my eyes.

Trapped

and surrounded,

crouching,

bent double,

in a windowless room

with low ceiling

and cold white walls,

That press in upon me.

Ugly black spiders

wait in the corners

watching my struggles

thirsty for blood.

They crawl across ceiling,

Abandoning corners,

slowly advancing

straight for my head.

Tensing cramped muscles,

I draw myself tighter,

I scream only silence,

my knees turn to water.

I feel myself fainting,

I fall into blackness.

I welcome the darkness

that welcomes the dead.

Blaring and humming

a noise screams "ATTENTION!"

I open my eyes,

The clock says it's five.

My Poem: True Confessions

TRUE CONFESSIONS

How an English Major Spent Spring Vacation

Barbarian for a week

I sit hunched over

In the middle of the floor

Greedily consuming

Mountains of forbidden delights.

For breakfast

I munch comic books

For lunch

I ravenously devour

whole Gothics

in one sitting.

Before dinner,

I gulp down

a couple of volumes

of home grown

Fantasy and Science fiction,

By dinner time I'm drunk.

Having lost all sense of decency,

I lie in bed

Curled up with

Alfred Hitchcock

And Ellery Queen

Mystery magazines

Until early morning...

Monday morning comes.

I blow the dust from my literary tomes

And hurry back to PSU

Once more dignified and proper.

My week of wanton reveling

forgotten

Except for the stiff neck

and bloodshot eyes.

Written when I was earning my BA in English Literature in 1977.

My Poem: Pacific Dogwood Blossom

Pacific Dogwood Blossom

Wildwood blossom,

Six cream colored petals

Symetrically arranged

In a Star of David pattern.

Star stem center

Bouquet of tiny flowers

Fairy feather fine

In shades of green and gold.

Blossom burdened branch,

Lovely, slender, fragile,

A curving artist's brushstroke

Against the April sky.

Sky song dancer,

Prima ballerina,

Moving to the music

Whispered by the wind.

Please Note: Pacific Dogwood blossoms

have 4 to 8 petals, unlike their dogwood cousins

with only 4 petals per flower.

I'll try to get a photograph of one to post here in the future.

A Poem I wrote dedicated to Christy McAuliffe, the teacher who died in the Challenger shuttle disaster

To Christy McAuliffe

Written after watching the disaster on television January 28, 1986

One moment, pulsing with life,

the next,

your atoms scattered on the solar wind.

You never achieved your dream of sharing space with us.

Today we feel the weight of our chains even more.

We dreamed with you, Christy,

we left Earth's gravity behind

on the wings of your spirit

and we also "died"

Not knowing the wonder of space;

cheated out of our look back at Earth

through the window.

We are the

Children of the United States.

And we are

All the ones who could not go.

We are America

And we weep for you.

You took a risk.

You weren't afraid

to live fully and reach for your dreams.

It took us by surprise.

We took it for granted

It was supposed to be safer than a drive to the store.

But we now know

that space flight is not so easy.

We wanted to experience the voyage through your eyes.

What we saw was our own mortality.

We saw how brief life is

And how suddenly and without warning

We can cease to live.

A lesson in mortality.

You were a "regular person"

who dreamed of traveling into space.

You were our proxy.

You were there for us.

Our hopes and dreams went with you.

But fate clipped our wings.

We can not go into space.

Twenty-five times the shuttle went

beautifully up

piercing the blue sky like a silver needle

toward the moon and stars

But you were cheated out of your dream.

My poem: SEAGULL

Seagull

Alone.

A seagull

runs across the wet sand

in the early morning mist.

Dappled grey feathers

and a shattered wing.

He

shall no more

soar

into the blue vault

or

dip into the sea

to pluck a fish.

He

will never see

another

morning's mist

for

he has lost his license

to the sky.

Alone.

He

waits here for death.

Soon,

dogs dashing across

the wet sand

will find him

welcome sport.

My Poem: A Lover's Song

A Lover's Song

Let me wander barefoot

through the hills of your desire,

Drinking of the living springs

That set my soul on fire.

Lead me through the forests

and the jungles of your mind,

Let me be your shadow

and I'll not be far behind.

Let me know the passion

That burns within your heart,

And I will blend my world with yours

and we will never part.

Let me touch the hopes and fears

You've locked inside your soul,

And I will take each broken dream

and give you one that's whole.

by R. F-M

YOUR POEMS (dedicated to the ONE who said "Let there be light!")

Your POEMS

Hang sparkling in the air

Hand cut crystals

Shattering the darkness

With rainbow light.

Your POEMS

Ring like bells

Singing for us all

Cutting through the silence

With a pure voice

Your POEMS

Blow warmly down my throat

God's life giving breath

Transforming cold clay

Into living flesh.

Your POEMS

Melt in my mouth

Sweet, sticky syrup

"Nectar of the gods"

to a starving soul.

Your POEMS

Are the laughter

Of a mountain streem

clear as glass,

cold as ice, sweeter than honey.

Your POEMS

Are tiny snowflakes

Crystalline perfection

Formed by a master designer.

Your POEMS

Are as big as the universe

Contained in an atom

Revolving, evolving,

Infinite and finite.

Your POEMS

Speak with ten trillion voices

In ten thousand languages

On a hundred other worlds

formed by your words.

Love poems

If the chains that bind my heart

to yours

Could bind your love to me,

This world of sorrow, pain and strife

A Heaven on Earth would be.

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I stooped to pick a dandilion,

It wilted in an hour.

A lot like life... or love.

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Sunny beaches

are barren icelands

when you're not there

with me.

by R. F-M

Two Small Poems

Memories

are ghosts that haunt us;

some are friendly,

some are not.

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Walls of frozen silence

imprison me,

Indifference and Hatred

watch the door,

while I,

chasing butterflies

and picking daisies

inside my mind--

am freeer than my

jailers.

This poem was published in a literary journal.

Written by R. F-M

My Poem: Prisoners With No Parole

Prisoners with No Parole

I recently toured a prison,

Not many know it's there,

The captives never had a trial

And no one seem to care.

Their eyes spoke words no tongue could say,

They paced the floor or slept,

For a moment I put myself in their place,

Then I turned away and wept.

They're waiting, clinging to the hope

That this is their last day,

Without that hope their fragile lives

Would fade and slip away.

For these were never criminals,

They once roamed wild and free,

Like human slaves they were trapped and chained

and shipped to this country.

No contact is permitted between them

and loved ones left behind.

To their growls and screams to be released

Their guards were deaf and blind.

And now, huddling together

in bare, gray cement rooms,

They pace and dream their lives away;

These cells become their tombs.

Tomorrow is another day

and we'll live each a free soul,

But the ZOO is crammed with animals;

Prisoners with no parole.

I wrote this poem 35 years ago and our zoo has been improved since then.

However, there are honored institutions where animals are tortured in the name

of medical science like OHSU in Portland, Oregon, and very few people care

or are aware of their suffering. Experiments are repeated

even when the benefit to humanity is zero.

Industrial farms keep animals in tiny cages or pens and fill the animals

with antibiotics to keep them alive until they can be slaughtered

to become our food.

I am a great admirer of Albert Shweitzer, who promoted

the concept of reverence for life

Love Song

Come blend your soul with mine, my love,

come blend your soul with mine,

Until the two entwine, my love,

And I am yours, and you are mine,

Until the end of time, my love,

Until the end of time,

Our lives would be so fine, my love,

'Twould fill a plan divine.

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Destiny

has decreed

that I shall love you

longer than eternity

stronger than the timeless sea

deeper than the truth

without condition or measure...

It has also been decreed

that I must love you

with my eyes,

and voice

and thoughts

but never with my hands,

my lips,

my dreams.

Ever at a distance

must I love you.

Never shall I hold you to my heart.

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Knight In the Rain

Blindly I ran,

'neath thunderclap and pouring rain

I cried out when I felt my

foot catch in the drain,

I fell, sliding in the mud,

feeling dumb and like a child.

You came and lifted me with such ease,

and looking down, you smiled.

Poems by R. F-M

My Poem: Bridal Mountain (written about 30 years ago)

Bridal Mountain

Veiled and snowy, a lovely bride,

The Winter winds caress her face,

And clouds, her maids, are gathered,

Dressing her in snowflake lace,

Our mountain waits for springtime,

Waits for her bridegroom's smile,

When he'll give her bright wildflowers,

and warm her every mile.

We, peeping from our cabin,

See crocuses in bloom,

And know her lover, Summer,

Will melt the winter gloom.

she trembles with impatience,

And crickets can be heard,

The air is crisp, the sky ice blue,

We'll soon hear the bluebird.

The bluebird is her messenger.

Perhaps he'll come today,

And sing to her that Summer

Isn't very far away.

When Summer comes to her at last,

He spends three months or four,

But he's a rambling lover,

And can not linger more.

Golden tears fall from her trees,

For Summer days are gone,

Gray clouds o'ershadow the sky,

And she's steeped in snow at dawn.

We'll wait with our dear mountain,

and watch with her for spring,

When daffodills and warm sunshine

will cause her heart to sing.

Summer's hand will come again

and dry her dewdrop tears,

and she will learn to live like this

For a hundred thousand years.

by RF-M

My Poem: Too Busy

Too Busy

(written about 35 years ago)

What ever happened to yesterday?

Our lives flash by like a busy freeway,

The things that we buy now

simply do not last

Joy and satisfaction are a thing of the past.

We rise, rushing to be on time,

ever in a hurry

Doctors tell us we are dieing

of bitterness and worry.

Where are we going at this mad pace?

Like lemmings, to our deaths we race.

What have we accomplished

through all of this?

Fast food, diabetes, and kidney dialysis.

by R. F-M

My Poem: Memorial to Yesterday

Memorial to Yesterday

Bits and pieces fit together

In the ruins in my mind,

Memories in shattered fragments

Of the years I've left behind,

I stumble like a blind man

As I wander through the rooms

Cobwebbed corners, shaded windows

And the musty smell of tombs,

Wrotting coffins lit by torches,

That will burn forevermore,

And I, weeping, wander sadly

Opening each and every door.

I place flowers to the memories

Of Loves I've seen grow old,

And I mourn, for 'twas not my heart

But 'twas theirs that did grow cold,

And when leaving I blow kisses

to the dreams I leave behind

Each of them are broken pieces

of the ruins in my mind.

by R. F-M

My Own Poems and a Painting

A Rose in Politics

A rose is like a politician,

Full of promise of perfection,

on the surface true confection,

Until you're stuck

'til next election.

Published in The Oregonian Sept 22, 1974

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Redeemed from Despondency

Gray sky staring down upon me,

Harsh winds tearing at my soul,

fingers of ice creeping through my veins,

Vague shaddows grab and pull,

Tiny flicker of light above,

Hope comes dancing on a sun beam,

How can I be freed from hopelessness?

Surely unreal--it must be a dream.

Warmth is flowing into my heart,

Fear departing as the shadows flee,

I'm drenched in love's sweet light,

The chains fall off and I'm set free!

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FALL

Autumn countryside

sheltered by the mountain tall,

warmed by Summer, turning Fall,

Winter's frost fingers will

steal the color from the hills

golden orange to silver white

like blazing sunset to misty night.

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HOPE

Oh slender hope,

how bright and flighty a butterfly you do appear,

and yet, although you might take flight

at any moment and leave me

cold and hungry,

I gently, slowly reach my hands out to you

and pray you will never leave me,

But, as my fingertips touch your delicate wings---

gold dust flies

and you are gone!

Hours pass in solitude, the silence

only broken by the endless throbbing

of my broken heart.

Suddenly, I see a flutter of gold

and the soft, sweet creature

lands on my nose

and spreads her golden magic

over my face,

Until I awaken to find

my dreams fulfilled,

my heart healed,

and my patience rewarded.

poems by R. F-M

Poem: Starfirehawk's Dream

Starfirehawk's Dream

Circles of wisdom,

Eyes that are wise,

Hearts of fire,

Wings of wind,

Horse's hooves thundering,

A drum's heartbeat,

A strong Gaelic voice

so pure, so sweet,

Celtic knots wound

round my wrists,

An Indian ghost lover

and midnight trysts,

Dreams of dazzling,

Magical things,

Crafting Heart Magic

with thoughts that have wings,

Soaring, wings wide over the trees,

I range, I glide upon the breeze.

A Poem by R. Flaming-Martin