Like The Movies - a poem.

(Have you seen the movie Matilda, based on the children's book by Roald Dahl, about the girl who could move things with her eyes? The movie Mr. Holland's Opus, about a band teacher who really  wants to write a grand piece of music? Amadeus, about the talented but irreverent Mozart, as told by the jealous composer Salieri? I was recently struck how art, academia and hardship often make people want to be the best, not just good... or maybe that's just me? There's a reason extraordinary people make for good movies. Anyway, here's a poem I distilled from these thoughts.) 

In the book,
Matilda's telekinetic powers vanish
after the genius skips a few grades
and her awful family skips town,
her mind no longer bored,
her spirit no longer oppressed.

But not in the movie.
She keeps them in that.
Because it's more fun that way.
Because we want to be
special,
extraordinary,

like Salieri wanted to be Mozart
(but there can only be one Mozart).
Like Mr. Holland wanted to write an opus
but his life impacted more
through ordinary influence
of teaching his students
and loving his family,
so the people became his Magnum Opus.
We too miss that being
skillful and present in the moment
are more valuable.

Still we dream of being
special,
extraordinary,
having a magical talent
to separate Us
from the common moviegoers.
Because it's just more fun
to be the only one
to tip over a glass of water
from ten feet away.

The Author and The Shepherd -- a poem.

You're the Author of my faith
and You've got a plan to perfect it!
You're the designer of my way,
then You guard and You protect it.

You're the Shepherd of Your people,
Your eye is on each one.
You won't let me wander far
before You call me, guide me, overcome.

I may try to plan it out,
I may try to dream it up,
but You O Lord direct my steps,
You ordain the way for us.

You're the Author and the Shepherd,
You outline my life-to-be,
then You take my hand and walk,
never to forsake me.

Continue Your good work--
I love what You've foreseen.
Keep me close on the path with You,
it's far better than I dreamed! 

--Ellen H.

(In honor of my Grandma Avis, who passed away years ago, but whose legacy of sweetly written poems and prayers lives on in my heart.)

Poems On Poetry.

"Distraction"

It's taking me forever
to finish reading this poetry book
because I keep getting distracted
by phrases that creep in,
lines that would start
such clever, thoughtful poems
of my own.


"Domino Effect"

I suppose the goal of my life
-- or one of them anyway --
is to publish a book
of poetry.

I certainly have enough poems by now,
piled up like domino stacks,
quietly waiting to set up a chapbook
or a thin, glossy paperback

which readers could easily carry around
in their purses or backpacks,
pulling it out in a dull moment
in a coffee shop or at home while the baby naps,

or on the bus or waiting at the doctor's office,
to play with for fun, and inspiration perhaps.

I suppose it is the goal of my life
to express creative sentiments to others,
written words whispered into the mind,
sparking a flame that in turn lights another,

a domino effect of delightful enlightenment.

--Ellen H.

Icicles-- a poem.

Such pointless, delightful decorations,

these multi-colored glass icicles

hanging in the front window.

I study them – aglow

with the cold morning sun,
each a variation on a color theme,

purposefully hung at varying lengths –
perfect imperfection –

as real icicles are.

I admire them – as I sit

for the hundredth hour

on my living room couch, breastfeeding:

a rare, glowing positive to being up so early,

never again to sleep in.

I also hung them so passers-by

on our busy, in-town street

would see them too.

Perhaps, decorative winter baubles

make up for the lack of seeing a homey tree
through our front window, as if to say
'We still care about the holidays,'

but saving me the work

of molted pine needles on the carpet,

and wanting it gone on exactly December 26^th.

Besides, these could last us until February for sure –

icicles are in season all winter long,

even if they were originally intended as holiday ornaments...
Maybe they're not so pointless after all?

--Ellen H. 

"International Evening": a poem.

It's a big, big world out there,
I think to myself, and stare,
as I sit in my living room at dusk,
watching a car drive by in a rush
with the radio blaring--
a sign that the schoolkids are out,
out and about, somewhere to go,
and that night magic is inviting,
so exciting, soon to flow.
Meanwhile,
by lamplight I am reading a poetry book,
pausing at times to take a look
at the outdoor activity and approaching evening,
feeling the weight of my baby, on my lap finally sleeping.

Who else is looking out their window,
like, in Rio De Janeiro,
listening to the cars zoom,
and seeing the city lights bloom,
as the sun goes down?
How many other mothers are doing
what I am doing, at just the same time--
a boring, lonely, immobile thing--
bringing camaraderie, secret and sublime?
But only if
their imaginations are also pondering
the same thing as our minds are wandering...
Who really knows, or even cares?
All I know is: it's a big, big world out there.


--Ellen H.

P.S. If you like accessible, contemporary poems, check out one of Billy Collins' collections (former U.S. Poet Laureate): they always inspire some smiles and poetry of my own. :)