Tag: Poetry

Inspired by March 2018

Stone smiles gathered about me, urging something, but the meaning was unclear

I’m getting this wrong – but my gut says I’m right.

Why don’t the eyes match the mouths on these people? Too preoccupied to allow the softening of soul

My gut says know

And so

I follow it.

This does not win friends and influence people.

But I can’t stay here for long

It’s bound to lead to spiritual rickets,

nosebleeds and charm deficits and so

I go…

I have no memory of when it’s not been this way.

To measure up to the crowd-sourced standard of value and goodness.

Conform and trade and the happy accident of celebrating obedience.

Outcast or broadcast – these are the choices.

The cool kids will understand that you do not belong.

But you do belong

you belong to yourself, and so long as that is not betrayed,

you will have won the battle against selling your soul

Flying Fish – monotype by Michele Montserrat

Like a Rolling Stone (After Bob Dylan)

August 19, 2020

“ConSecrate” mixed media painting by Michele Montserrat

Another 2018 poem…

Don’t know where I’m going, don’t know where it all rolls

I’m turning over the rocks in my path.

The pens have all lost their ink, so I’m carving words in mud instead.

Gritty words which leave their trace on the desk,

on the chair and on the floor

where you walked out the door last Tuesday night.

If my hands are not what they seem,

it’s because they have been scrubbing at the indelible paint

I tried to hide under whitewash and draperies

salvaged from dumpsters last year.

Court of Empire

Featured image is the painting “The Laocoön” by El Greco 1610-1614

August 18, 2020

I wrote the following poem in 2018.

Court of Empire

Oh shining City on the Hill,

You must know by now

the price for a seat on the Court of Empire

is paid in the brown skins of refugees

and the bones of their children which lie

bleaching in the Sonoran sun.

The mothers and fathers carry their little ones, anyway –

this crossing means they must travel at night,

they walk with care,

to escape the gaze of El Pozolero

they risk all through darkness and death.

In the day, they take their rest at churches

hidden in the creosote scrub

and receive the manna

left by Samaritans.

Food cache

(body of Christ, the bread of Heaven)

and water jug

(blood of Christ, the cup of Salvation)

gathered and prepared for those

(suffer the little children to come unto Me)

who journey to reach the promised land.

When these oases are found by Pharaoh’s long arm

border agents pour out the water

and trample the food.

We all must face these facts tonight

face something dark tonight

go down into the abyss tonight —

(Lord, I am not ready to receive you…)

We’re all facing something dark tonight,

facing facts tonight,

going into the abyss

tonight –

(say the word, and I shall be healed.)

Portulaca of the Ancestors by Michele Montserrat

Because I Wanted You to Love Me

August 8, 2020

Painted Wall: Bird and Grapes photo by Michele Montserrat

A poem I wrote in October 2018…

Because I Wanted You to Love Me

Because I wanted you to love me, I buried my shame along with the guilt and painted my lips the color of tequila sunrises.

Because I wanted you to love me, I learned to track time in the aroma of lush forests and flashing brilliant bees.

Because I wanted you to love me, I found books on the art of erotic hand massage. I studied fireworks and fine dining.

Because I wanted you to love me, I danced whistling from room to room, and I perfected my skills in langorous leaning.

Because I wanted you to love me, I meditated on lemon scented diamonds. I kept my hairstyle exactly the same and began wearing more colorful scarves.

And because I wanted you to love me, I didn’t wait for the mail to come. I took the pen in hand and wrote the letter anyway.

Feathered Wallpaper photo by Michele Montserrat

Have a Day…

July 26, 2020

A poem from October 2017.

Have a somber day, a day of remembering and singing the songs you liked best. A day filled with songs like you felt when you first heard Fade Into You.

Have a sober day, a day like how you felt when you heard of the death of David Bowie.

Have a sky’s-the-limit day, walking around with your head in the cloudy blue forever.

Have a spring day, mud between your toes, leaning down to see the grass up close and being surprised and graced with the unforgettable sweetness of lily in the valley.

Have an overly-important, sonorous day where you nod your head and tip your hat to everyone like you’re a sea captain in charge of all the pilgrims.

Have a day where you work so hard and get so much done that you really deserve to order your favorite pizza and watch cartoons with your friends.

Featured image of a road in Crow-Hassan Park, St. Michael, Minnesota. Photo of a David Bowie mask. All images by Michele Montserrat.