Tag: photos

The Reluctant Cook

by carole, posted in Poem

Burnt ToastThe Reluctant Cook

She cooks everything on high
no patience for process –
warming, browning, crisping.
must all happen at once
else time’s a-wastin’.

Toast cooked as intensely
as an egg is fried,
unfortunate vegetables whacked into bits
drowned in boiling olive oil.
She doesn’t  mind the charred toast
soggy veggies or burnt garlic.

She just goes for it
and cooks everything on high
all the while savoring
the scent of a percolating poem
and moments sewn into life
by unexpected muses.

© photo and poem by carole fults

Comes The Night

by carole, posted in Uncategorized

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Darkness, you bring  rich deepness
tantalizing mystery
blessing and fear
stealing blankets of warmth
from our comfortable resting place.
You show us stars, planets and galaxies not visible
when you withdraw.

You clothe our world in a blanket of cold,
a womb sheltering  seeds of dramatic sunrise.
You are our Mother as much as Earth.

When light appears over the curvature
bathing our faces with tender regard
you take only partial leave,
lingering in shadows and making a home
under our own hats,
hiding in our marrow
a kernel of corn in a field
awaiting the sun
to stir its birth.

You bring us dreams –
relief from ordinary life,
an existence outside of sometimes banal days.

I would not give you up
nor ask you to stop returning,
for you help me see the substance
gleaming daylight often hides
behind her skirts.
Truth hidden by the bright light of the sun.

©Photo and poem by caf

Even in Winter

by carole, posted in Poem

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The Orchid

Even in winter
when fields sleep
awaiting spring
and arrival of simple seed

Even in winter
when cattle stand
chewing their hay
awaiting the fresh grass of spring

Even in winter
when rooms shrink
and knotted energy
awaits returning warmth

The orchid uses the quiet
to flower
her beauty assumed
even in winter.

©photo and poem by carole fults

Children of Aleppo, Children of Flint

by carole, posted in Uncategorized

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Children of Aleppo
bulls eye on a target
schools, playgrounds, homes
cold weather, no food
flying barrel bombs
evacuation
cluster bombs
lucky ones stand
on top of rubble
the unlucky …… well
politicians shake their heads
it’s complicated
negotiators stall
no simple solutions
mass homicide is mundane.

Children of Flint
waifs playing in potholed streets
fresh water from taps a memory
bathing can be corrosive
drive by shootings
burnt out homes
murders everywhere
every day
politicians shake their heads
it’s complicated
investigators report
no simple solutions
poisoning a prosaic possibility.

These are plain facts.
What more is there to say?
Children of Aleppo
Children of Flint.

 

©photo and poem by caf

Sign of Hope

by carole, posted in Uncategorized

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The Sign

a star appeared.
glowing evidence of love
brilliant radiance
from eons ago,
though nothing indicated
I was worthy.

a hope appeared.
dazzlement of mercy
gleaming possibility
dispelling the dark night sky
though nothing indicated
I deserved such generosity.

I spoke my dreams
hoping you would hear
and when you did
my hope became faith

©poem and photo by carole fults

Honeysuckle in the Evening

by carole, posted in Uncategorized

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Honeysuckle in the Evening

The sweet scent of
wild honeysuckle
and a gaggle of newborn geese
plodding back to their home in the pond.

Deep throated croaks.
My relations,
some flying,
others singing in my ears,
some blessing my nose
with sweet smells,
or tormenting my skin,
a dense thicket of mosquitoes.

A barking goose,
a carpet of red pine needles.
Forget me nots
not seen,
still there,
things pulled too soon
or not soon enough.
I ask what makes the oak leaves red in the fall?

I see you standing on a hill
waving, smiling,
I call to you, “Put out the lights so I can see the stars”.

The sun out shown a little star until the clouds
eclipsed the sun,
and when the earth eclipsed the moon, the sun again
ascended until new moon darkness
when the little star again shown brightly.

I felt the sun stroking the earth
as he set behind the mountains
and the moon rose over the trees,
her touch the cooler and softer.

lover of day (sun)
mistress of night (moon)
exploring (finding) you on the hill.

© Poem and photo by caf

Joy and Suffering

by carole, posted in Uncategorized

on top of a flower

                                             Joy and Suffering
In the afternoon butterflies gather on purple flowers for a meal.
Do they ponder death and the suffering of torn wings?
Maybe sometime they will know of painful things,
but not in this moment.
Right now they know only of the blissful sucking of nectar
from warm blossoms.

There are scores of tiny frogs joyfully jumping through the grass.
Do they understand about getting chopped up in a lawn mower or
stepped on by clumsy feet?
Maybe sometime they will know about cut off limbs and ensuing death,
but not in this moment.
Right now they know only the delight of sunshine, the wetness of leaves
and the safety of rocks.

The old woman sits among the flowers where her son’s ashes are strewn.
Does she think of death as she sits, back broken and bent?
Maybe sometimes she considers her mortality,
but not in this moment.
Right now she savors the fragrance and colors of the blooms, the whistling finches,
the softness of the afternoon sun and says she feels like Eve in Paradise.

Breezes blow, cease, and blow again.
Rivers flow, tides move in and out.
Coming and going, movement and stillness, breathing in and out, birth and death,
each is marked by a pause, a moment when the motion turns.
Maybe sometime I will consider all this,
but not in this moment.
Right now I am enjoying the clouds that partially cover the sun
and the unspoken love caressing my heart.

©photo and poem by caf

 

Flint, Michigan

by carole, posted in Uncategorized

flint house 2The Poisoning of a City

The streets are lined with burnt out houses.
I found your old place looking as
vacant eyed as a crazy person’s mind.

(We are black, we are poor.
We are white,we are poor.)

Death – immediate and still forthcoming,
lives shattered
children living in despair ….
their relief ? … poison from a tap.

(We are black, we are poor.
We are white, we are poor.)

Chaos and violence rule the streets,
anarchy is master
and hopelessness grows
in the city that has never been loved.

© Photo and poem Carole Fults

Works of Clay

by carole, posted in Uncategorized

clay potWorks of Clay

She bends the clay around emptiness
creating a vacancy for utility,
defining function,
vesting it in vitality.

The coolness of moist mud
sticks to her hands as she coaxes shape
from a formless heap of thickened slip,
while the wheel turns the pot,

and heaven spins the earth
and morning and evening
caress the shape of a day.

©photo and poem by Carole Fults

 

To All Terrorists

by carole, posted in Uncategorized

 

To All Those Who Love Terror

Did you think we would give up because you were scary,
because you have guns, bombs and can kill us?

There is something worse than losing a life –
losing a soul to fear,
a heart to suspicion,
a love to dreams of revenge.

You will not massacre my peace.
You will not exterminate my hope.
You will not eradicate my joy.

I have this whole earth as my love,
my defense and my strength,
and you have only guns
while I have a pen and camera.

by caf

©photo and poem by carole fults