poetry

Bienestar

/ Robinne Weiss / Leave a comment

100_3810 cropThe day’s wind has died

Dust rises from my hoe

And falls in place.

The body is tired,

But at peace

In the rhythm of work,

In the calm setting of the sun

In the midges wafting like ghosts

Through the silence.

 

Heat gives way to cool air

And the scent of the sea.

 

Purple clouds glow orange

At the edges

In a turquoise sky.

 

I pause to rest,

To listen

To breathe

The smell of my garden.

 

I should stop,

Go inside,

Wash the dirt off my arms and legs.

 

One more minute.

A few more weeds.

Then one last gaze.

 

The peas glow in the gold

Of the evening sun.

The onions stand proud.

The lettuces reach up in supplication.

I see it

And declare it good.

Looking for the rainbow

/ Robinne Weiss / Leave a comment

Ice hisses on the window panes

Wind howls down the chimney

Frigid drafts skitter across the floor

And lick at my toes

 

But

 

For a moment

The sun breaks through

Glittering through millions of beads of ice

Defying the gale

 

I look for the rainbow.

Girl

/ Robinne Weiss / Leave a comment

100_2230 smGirl.

She walks tall,

Plans,

Creates,

Loves,

Laughs.

 

Considers,

Debates,

Decides.

 

Imagines,

Does.

 

Is.

 

In the space given to her–

The space too small

To hold all that is

Girl,

The space with limits,

Rules,

Expectations that do not meet hers.

Expectations too low:

Strength,

Independence,

Endurance,

Brains.

Expectations too high:

Beauty,

Popularity,

Helplessness.

 

Make way.

Make space for her.

Space for steely resolve.

Space for sweat.

Space for skinned knees and

Dogged determination.

 

Because Girl

She walks tall.

She

Is.

Robinne Weiss is going to town

/ Robinne Weiss / Leave a comment

grocerylistsmOK, just to show you how weird my brain is…I was putting a few things on the grocery list yesterday, and suddenly I found myself singing this (to the tune of Santa Claus is Coming to Town).

 

Oh, there’s no need to cry,

No need to frown,

No need to pout,

I’m telling you why.

Robinne Weiss is going to town.

 

She’s making a list,

Checking it twice,

Gonna find out if we need pasta or rice.

Robinne Weiss is going to town.

 

She sees if we need butter

And when the stock of beans is poor.

She knows if we need orange juice

So enjoy ‘cause she’ll buy more.

 

So, there’s no need to cry,

No need to frown,

No need to pout,

I’m telling you why.

Robinne Weiss is going to town.

 

She knows when we need coffee

She knows when we need tea

She knows when we need toilet paper

And that’s good for you and me.

 

So, there’s no need to cry,

No need to frown,

No need to pout,

I’m telling you why.

Robinne Weiss is going to town.

Cafe Conversation

/ Robinne Weiss / Leave a comment

Café conversation

Hums

Over light jazz music

Nobody has

Ever

Actually

Listened to.

 

Espresso machine

Hisses and gurgles.

Trim flat white and

A chocolate latte!

 

Laptops

Mark the places

Where the

Officeless

Use the clamour

Of public space

To find quiet.

 

Stormy Weather

/ Robinne Weiss / Leave a comment

For the record, peri-menopause sucks. You know, for the first year of it, you think you’re just going mad, and wonder when’s a good time to call a psychiatrist. Then you figure out you’re just hormonal, and you can start to laugh it off. But the problem is that it keeps changing the rules without consulting you. Just when you think you’ve got the whole thing under control, it finds some new way to torture you. After eight years of it, I thought I had it pretty well sussed, but I’ve had some doozy hormonal storms lately. My goal is always to appear normal during them, but it’s not always possible with these super-storms. Here’s a little reflection on my day today…

 

 

Rage.

Pure,

White,

All-consuming.

I force myself to polite distance.

I do not look into

Anyone’s eyes.

I speak in short words.

I eat little,

Taking small bites,

Chewing slowly.

 

I am afraid

The rage will burst out

If I open my mouth.

If I allow myself to feel

Anything.

 

I scream

All day

Behind closed lips.

Only the straight jacket

Of iron will

Forcing me to smile

And speak softly

To the children.

 

I wait,

Knowing the rage is not mine

Knowing it will burn off

In a hot flash

Or dissipate

While I have my back turned.

Leaving me wasted,

Fragile,

Supported only by the taught nerves

It left behind.

Autumn

/ Robinne Weiss / Leave a comment

DSC_0009 copyAutumn

Is a yearning

Wreathed in smoke,

Struck through

With the amber rays

Of a westering sun.

 

Autumn

Is a farewell,

The caress

Of soft wind,

A sigh

Of leaves.

 

Autumn

Is anticipation:

Wood shed full

Of logs

Awaiting the fire,

Windows

Waiting to be closed,

Tomatoes

Awaiting their first

And final

Trimming of frost.

Step out

/ Robinne Weiss / 2 Comments

I step out of the light and steam of the kitchen,

Away from the hum of the fridge,

From the smell of cake and jam.

 

Orion hangs overhead in the cool still air.

The moon

Floats with him.

Light, noise and steam are shut in.

Night is out.

 

One breath.

Two breaths.

The night whispers.

Memory of the day fades

Into inky black sky.

 

I am caught.

Held.

Soothed.

By velvet silence.

 

Come out and play

/ Robinne Weiss / Leave a comment

DSC_0001smSometimes

Words do not want

To come out and play.

They stick

Somewhere

Behind my eyes.

Behind the pounding in my head.

Foiled by

My son’s maths homework

(to be checked by a parent)

My daughter’s permission slip

That needs signing.

Confined by

The clock ticking on the wall.

 

So I take the words outdoors

To the garden,

To feel the rain and wind.

I let them get dirty.

I let them pick vegetables

And contemplate a spicy curry.

 

After dinner,

Fed and rested,

Perhaps

They will creep out

Cautiously

To frolic on the page.