scent of life

hedge trimmers
whir, vroom
power tool

we approach
labrador azalea
on leash

we sniff the air
sweet aroma
fresh cut ivy

"that's the smell
of the ivy's blood"
azalea doesn't seem
to care

amputated leaves
and vines
will soon feel
rigor mortis

i wonder if
ivy feels

i can't recall 
the scent of human blood
freshly taken
hope i never have to

i wonder if it too  
smells sweet

8/12/11
judithpiper
___________________

sides of summer

sun sits

on the back side of summer now

glowing hue a bit different

softer in the evenings

days are shortening 

a little at a time

sun becoming farther away

each day, tad by tad

on the front side of summer

tadpoles swam in shallow waters

deep brown or black tails 

with heads

one might not conclude 

the bouncy frog by the river bank 

was hatched with no legs

back then
on the other side of summer

august 11, 2011

judithpiper

______________________________

field of ferns

field of green
sways in the breeze
like seaweed under water
dancing with the current

dividing the field, a blacktop
the structure placed by man
to traverse our mother's elements
like a submarine amongst sea weeds

tar, earth, wind ferns
steel, water, sea greens
nature, inventions, ingenuity
responsibility, respect, awe

august 09, 2011
judithpiper
__________________

the present

***************
ashamed
of things past

not of things yet future,
though I know there
will be more

hopefully
less than in the past

august 8, 2011
judithpiper

***************

~ random thoughts in october ~

I am not quiet inside
There are hints of fear
Emotional bits letting me know

I am not in control

I know the feeling will pass
The hints will quiet
The bits will dissolve

I know the sun will rise

There are boils on my left thumb
They extend down my left wrist
They too will dissolve

Countless memories of hives

I dreamt last night
Of the big house with rooms not used
Of water leaks and mountain views

I dreamt of the auditorium

Five pianos and an organ
Furniture old and dusty
Crowded into every corner

We never did tour the bathrooms

My body ages and carries more weight
Exercise is no longer my lifestyle
Dramatic changes are on the horizon

Sometimes I miss Facebook

carol welch
october 31, 2010

Embellishment

~*~*~

Thoughts.
In and out

Shoes.
Some with laces
One goes on right foot
Other slips on left

Gloves.
Some with snaps
One covers right hand
Other protects left

Earrings.
Some with anchors
One pokes right lobe
Other pierces left

Rings.
Some with stones
These band fingers
Those circle toes

Tattoos.
Everywhere


02/28/2010
judithpiper

****

My first thought was shoes. And I went from there.

Intersections

I like autumn

and winter

and spring

and summer

and up

and down

and sideways

and especially curves

on mountain roads

with fog it's hard to

see

the yellow line

at night

those little reflectors

help a lot

little eyes coming

up from the hardened tar

tar eyes

that's what they are

other eyes

live in the forest

whose pupils

shine like

lights

in the

dark

in autumn

in winter

in spring

in summer

september 29, 2009
judithpiper

****
One of my favorite activities at my job is communicating with artists. We mainly communicate via email, though sometimes via phone. Every so often face to face.

One artist who I enjoy going back and forth with is Ray. Ray is a collage artist, a musician, and a poet. He always causes me to chuckle, or think, or ponder. He has the most entertaining subject lines for his emails.

At work earlier this evening, I opened one of his emails entitled "M.T. Graves." M.T. Graves...hehe... I chuckled wondering what he'd be sending along. He usually always writes something about Artomat, and then throws in these side notes. This time it was about autumn, and the reality that stuff dies and decays in autumn. So I reminded him that the decay feeds the soil. It's all in good fun.

And out came the above ditty (a rendition) in response to Ray. He wrote back his own poetic verse; complex and dark with a hint of humor.

One of the visuals that came to mind was a memory of driving in thick fog at night in the North Carolina mountains some twenty-five plus years ago. The fog was so dense, I had to open my car door to look down at the middle line in order to drive; there were no reflectors on the lines.

All of a sudden the line disappeared. I applied the brake to come to a complete stop from my 5 miles per hour speed, if I was even going that fast. Panic momentarily struck my heart.

Then I realized I was in an intersection. I creeped slowly forward, and the line reappeared.

Seasons are kind of like intersections too.

Maybe that road has reflectors now, but probably not.