Category: Writing

Sanskrit

On By MaryIn Poetry, WritingLeave a comment

96 words for love
Could you imagine?
Being able to understand
with immediacy
if someone is describing
their affection for sweets
or a sweetheart?
To understand if it is general
or familial
or devotional
or sexual?

How much more meaning
if I knew the exact word
to describe this thing

this mad, eternal longing
devotion beyond devotion’s due
so difficult to express
it is like how the ocean
pulls to the moon
or the flower
faces the sun

It is as neverending
and vast
as the outward flung stars
spreading across the universe
hurtling into the emptiness
of beyond.

My only hope is entropy.

Split Ends

On By MaryIn Poetry, WritingLeave a comment 
There's no real repair for a split end
except for a snip.
Ideal to catch it early
before the damage travels
fraying and weakening the whole strand,
ruining all of what came before.
Perhaps I am at fault,
for proper care would have 
prevented such.
But that is hindsight and now there is
split end after split end.
Too many build -
perhaps it would be better 
to chop it all off
and start fresh.

Holding on is sometimes a sunk cost fallacy.
Learn to let go.

No Regrets

On By MaryIn Poetry, WritingLeave a comment

that idealized love
which fuels us
(all of us
in the secret places of our hearts
that we do not admit)
exists

But it is:
not always returned;
not always understood;
not always perfect;
not immune to the ravages
of the mortal coil.

Here is a miracle:
that all of the generations existed
that your mother met your father
and through happenstance
whether sorrowful or beautiful
you existed.
that through all the ages, wars, and devastations
my line of ancestors persevered
and led to me.
that somehow, despite the breadth and width and depth
of the whole of the world
we met.

through some small twist of fate
we might not have been
and yet we are.
Existing to meet,
meeting itself –
a miracle.

And yet
love returned is rare.
Yes, it’s not fair.
But we all know the rules of the game
and the rewards
and the worth behind the risk.

Ode to Potatoes

On By MaryIn Poetry, WritingLeave a comment

You’re perfect in anything
I will never not love you
Fried, mashed, baked or chipped
Or tossed into a stew
Seasoned and dressed
In any way will do
Despite any diet
We’re never quite through
I can never say no
And will never be untrue.

Ah… yes, my darling?
A truth you pursue?
Would I choose you or potatoes?
…If only you knew.

Daffodils

On By MaryIn Poetry, WritingLeave a comment

The first brief breath of warmth
sunshine yellow
appreciated brightness after
frigid grey

symbolizing rebirth

and yet

somehow they also stand
for the love I hold for you.

To give many is to give good fortune
To give one is to give misfortune

How a little flower that hardly lasts
the whole of a month
can encompass such a duality
as contrasting night to day

symbolizing hope

and yet

somehow they also stand
for the love I hold for you.