Archive for July, 2009

Tendrils

Friday, July 31st, 2009

Trees in southern Georgia
Spanish moss dripping sensuously
Like liquid off the limbs
Clinging like dainty lace
To the ancient boughs and leaves
And dipped elegantly like a woman
Feeling for a firm place
to set an expensively shod foot
Onto the murky ground below.

One tree in particular
With most interesting curves, swells
In its many wondrous branches
And its trunk bent just so
Reminding of a woman’s neck
Green tendrils of unruly hair
Wisping down and around
Draping the secret places
And keeping them remote.
- Mary O. Fumento, 2006

Years ago I saw some trees in Georgia on some sort of boat tour through some very swampy landscape. The Spanish moss dripped sensuously like liquid off the limbs, clung like an incredible dainty lace to the trunk, and dipped elegantly like a woman feeling for a firm place to set an expensively shod foot onto the murky ground below. One tree in particular had the most interesting curves and swells in its trunk, and it reminded me of a woman’s neck. The moss was like tendrils of unruly hair, wisping down and around.

What kind of forest has feminine trees? This one did, and I would like to capture what I saw. I am not an observant person, but sometimes small detail just grabs my attention and won’t let go. So I try to extract it and form it into words.

Ironically, I rarely compose poetry at the computer. I have many notebooks / workbooks where I start my thoughts, scratch them out and revise, refine, reform until I get the words where I want them. Some of the thoughts never get fully formed, but I may revisit them and rework them even if nothing comes out of them. Many times the exercise of reading what I wrote before sends me off on a new direction with a completely different topic.

Testament

Friday, July 31st, 2009

What affords us comfort?
When life shows its ugly side?
Where do we dare retreat?
When safety is only inside?

In strength, find your refuge
In care, embalm your hurt
Savor the sanctity of self
Let outer being become inert

Passive isn’t an excuse
Or a way around the cause
It’s a salve for the wound
The place to gain a pause

To reconcile the odds
And put pieces in place
To regain the balance
Foster the sense of grace

And master once again
The many balls we throw
In silence, and in peace
Resides the wisdom we know
- Mary O. Fumento, 2007

NightVision

Friday, July 31st, 2009

To embrace the approaching darkness
And be embalmed in its fearsome glory
To believe knowledge lies within its shadows
Is to know how blessed is the light

To accept the midnight challenge
And venture deep into one’s self
Where deception can no longer hide
And recognize how vital is the light

To kiss that cursed blackness
And to accept the truth it holds
Is to awake by dawn fully accepting
Most sacred is the light
- Mary O. Fumento, 1996

A Window on 13th

Friday, July 31st, 2009

It is noon hour outside my window
And cabs carry business people away
While shoppers hurry to catch buses
The last one to the suburbs
Shop lights blink, then dark and empty
And a tinged moon climbs the sky

A trash can lid clanks open
In reaches a grubby hand
Discarded newspapers tumble by
Tossed by the tired wind
Cigarette lighters ignite, flickering
Lit by those with nowhere to go

Neon promises in the night
And playmates with a price
Dagger eyed women who beckon
Those with scuffled shoes
Standing lonely in the street
Needing but not wanting to go

In a brash honk or two
The traffic will return
The purposeful, bustling many
Who arrive in force again
Briefcases, bags in tow
Prepared for a day of direction

In the brilliance of the noon sun
Even the neon seems invisible
There above the pushing mass
Buy – Earn – Save – Spend
A day of consummation and gratification
While litter passes unnoticed on the ground
-Mary O. Fumento, 1997

The Highway

Friday, July 31st, 2009

Desolate, cracked concrete
Asphalt leading nowhere
Shiny signs of direction
Attracting no one
Except for a faraway car
Resembling a dark tumbleweed
Blowing aimlessly
Pretending to go somewhere

A silent black serpent
Amongst these dry, barren fields
Which only watch and recount
The empty, pointless seasons
Without a change
Even the bright billboards
Have faded out
And peeled softly down
- Mary O. Fumento, 1988

Song of Autumn

Friday, July 31st, 2009

Autumn’s change, brings out the range
Of colors bright and bold
Tints of brown fall to the ground
With sprinkles of red and gold
Crisp, cool air, sky blue and fair
The song of autumn is told
The days flow, the north wind knows
Winter’s coming – it’s getting cold
- Mary O. Fumento, 1984

Chits

Friday, July 31st, 2009

The things we pass along
The things we never keep
To us will forever belong
As they touch us ever deep

Those places we will recall
By sight and smell somehow
Into those memories we fall
Transposing the past to now

Because it is all the same
You cared then, you still do
There is no one left to blame
The only one you could be was you
- Mary O. Fumento, 2007

Crystal Cascades

Friday, July 31st, 2009

Soft upon my eyelashes
Turning my cheeks to pink
Softly falling, falling
Not a sound in the air

Delicately designed in snow
Fading away at my touch
Leaving only a glistening drop
And its memory
- Mary O. Fumento, 1984

Splinter

Thursday, July 30th, 2009

In shards it lays
Tiny, sharp fragments
Glistening in wait

For a slender limb
Or an errant finger

A prick, a poke
A hole it leaves
That gapes alone
- Mary O. Fumento, 2009

Intersect

Thursday, July 30th, 2009

It was less where we came together
But more when and how we went apart
And the distance between the places
Outlined where we would end and start

The things you gave I didn’t have
The skills you brought I had sought
What I returned you had been seeking
Transactions we shared never bought

What one gives of self to another
Over and over throughout the years
Amid the laughter and the longing
Despite remorse, regret and tears

Pure outreach from self to others
This defines why we needs friends
The bridge from who we are now
Back to the people we have been
- Mary O. Fumento, 2009