Blue Eyes Poem by Andy Derryberry

Mystic Blue Eyes (you shoulda held on to her)

You shoulda held on to her
Mystic blue eyes
Deep as the sky is high
Calm as water in the morning
Rough as the open sea

You shoulda held on to her
That little bit of trouble
Though not so much really
Tough but sweet
Hard but soft

You shoulda held on to her
She would have held on to you
The time quickly passes
If you don’t hold on tight
The sun rises
Love it before it sets

You shoulda held on to her
Lovely little lady
You knew her for a while
I knew her from a child
From when I was a kid

You shoulda held on to her
Now you don’t know where to look
Will she call
Will she come back
There’s no way to know

You shoulda held on to her
Mystic blue eyes
Deep as the sky is high
Calm as water in the morning
Rough as the open sea

Nurse Appreciation Poem

nurse appreciation poem

Age makes destruction of minds–
stubborn machines.
Word salad is served with weather,
hooks to passing signals in the stratosphere.

L., in her 90s, leopard skin top,
no bottoms, one over the knee valentine’s sock,
speaks sunshine and storm in the same breath.
She is looking for Ohio in Texas
not knowing what state she’s in
or room.

T., is stalked by the devil,
paces the hall in fear,
wants to explain but can’t.
A fist forms as his eyes cry out,
“Get me out of here!”

S., shouts obscenities,
demands his dead wife help him,
rises and falls from his wheelchair,
is caught before he is floored by reality
and physical pain.

Nurses hold hands with despair,
serve gentleness with sedation,
talk to the lights within.
Storms blow over, devils disappear.
Mother is waiting in the next room
to tuck them in.
A smile emerges through the clouds.
Compassion is the language
always understood.

Nurse Appreciation Poem copyright 2012 Belinda Subraman

Zirconium poem by Janet Kuypers

Zirconium

Janet Kuypers

from the “ Periodic Table of Poetry” series

So I was at the Gem and Jewelry Show
with my girlfriend, and a man
I thought would ask me to marry him one day,
and my girlfriend stopped at a booth
amongst the rows and rows of vendors
and told me to look at a huge engagement ring.
Well, I didn’t want to look, I didn’t want
to get my hopes up, but seeing the brillance
of the awe-inspiring stones made me ask
for the price of one particular ring.
They told us it was three hundred seventy-five
dollars. And we were confused, this ring
should be at least two grand, but then we saw
that this was a booth of cubic zirconia jewelry.
How disappointing, we thought, we want
the real thing. But looking back, I had to admit
that the Zirconium was unmistakably breath-taking.

I don’t know if Zirconium is as short-lived
as that relationship with the man that went with me
to the Gem and Jewelry Show in Chicago
that I thought would ask me to marry him one day,
but if nothing else, at least some Zirconium
would have been a nice gesture…

Although the element Zirconium’s
most common oxide is zirconium dioxide
(also known as zirconia), used
as a common diamond substitute,
the metallic element Zirconium is a lustrous,
grayish-white, soft, ductile and malleable element.

Different from a diamond, I suppose,
but also different from the cubic zirconia isotope.
I just have to keep remembering
that cubic zirconium is not all Zirconium is used for:
it is used for not only in nuclear applications,
but also in Space and aeronautic industries.
Zirconium is used for cladding nuclear reactor fuels,
and materials from Zirconium metal and its oxide
is even used in space vehicle parts
for their resistance to heat.
A Zirconium isotope has been recently used
in positron emission tomography (PET) cameras…
So ductile or not, maybe Zirconium
is pretty strong, and exactly at times
what I need.

Flowing Water Poem

The hot summer sun
makes cake of my skin
and the sweat lets me know
I’m alive

the water
is better then

it is needed then

and noticed

Can a poem be the water on a hot day

can the water flow down
this page
in
this poem

this time or the next
until there is no next

no new
meanderings

of the water in a poem until it lies there in a pool on the page, on this page

 

 

david michael jackson june 23, 2012 editors@artvilla.com send help

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The Hands Poem

artist hands

The artist hands
are always dirty
The paint gets under the
nails and covers
everything
The artist hands play
in the materials like
a child plays in the
mud
like a pig who delights in it,
the artist hands plant commas in this poem
plant exclamation in your soil.
The artist and the farmer have
wide feet for the soil
wide hands for the work
a stout heart for the work
for the work
for the work
The farmers hands are
the same hands.
God’s hands are the same hands.
Your hands are the same hands.

david michael jackson june 21, 2012 editors@artvilla.com send love