She Sings

why does she sing?

she turned 91, the old bird

her life’s mate was just caged in the nursing home
he can’t remember why
his once lengthy repertoire has been reduced to a few, sweet notes

her handicapped son still lives at home
needing her patient care
all he could ever do was chirp

the last of her friends died years ago
their songs now silent
she takes her coffee with younger generations
their noisy squawks sometimes give her a headache
but she never complains

she goes on singing, the old bird
and smiles and laughs
and shares a story
or ten

she sings
not because her life’s bird landed on a beautiful branch
in a flawless tree

she sings
because
as a bird in life’s tree
she can

~

for my Granny, who still tells the best stories and is an avid bird-watcher

~

Words and Photography ©2018 Tanya Cliff ~ to contact me

Posted in poetry & free verse.

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Crimson Ink

I respond to the beats
deferent
the pulse of life carries
oxygen
to
organs
limbs
finger tips
and
toes

when my pounding heart
echoes
the movements of my soul
my poised pen
forms
words
in
crimson
ink
flow

~

Words and Photography ©2018 Tanya Cliff ~ to contact me

Posted in poetry & free verse.

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Kiss

lips kiss in embouchure

fingers dance over open holes

the French Flute sings

~

Words and Photography ©2018 Tanya Cliff ~ to contact me

Posted in poetry & free verse

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Imagine

imagine ~

if the obese worm
of bigotry
could be contained
in a chrysalis
there
forced to change
or starving die
might emerge
life’s
liberated
butterfly

~

Words and Photography ©2018 Tanya Cliff ~ to contact me

Posted in poetry & free verse

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I Think, Maybe…

I think, maybe…

when the pen cut’s deep,

the poet bleeds words

that parched souls

drink.

~

Words and Photography ©2018 Tanya Cliff ~ to contact me

Photo credit: Alannah Cliff

Posted in poetry & free verse

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The Goldilocks Dichotomy

she shivered in the shallow waters
tasted the tepid drink
too cool to soothe
too warm to quench
Goldilocks
was trapped in the kitchen sink
when her yellow ringlets
caught
in the u-bend of the old pipes

she was trying to dye her hair
Raven Black
because
she thought Snow White had all the best luck
but, in reality, the seven dwarfs didn’t give a fuck
as their porcelain-skinned, fairy-tale thrall
labored under fruity delusions
of a someday-coming prince

Goldilocks
could have cut her hair,
but she would not part with a single inch
though she lived on a first floor flat
she had Rapunzel on the brain
her lengthy locks clogged the drain
trapping the girl
by her sunny mane

she waited for the prince who never came
the water pooled over her dainty feet
she shivered in the shallow waters
believing herself
incomplete
the poor girl never grasped
the
dichotomy
between
fairy tale
and
reality

~

Words and Photography ©2018 Tanya Cliff ~ to contact me

Posted in poetry & free verse

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Cracked

cracked shell

                clam dies

cracked chrysalis

                insect flies

cracked skull

                head bleeds

cracked bell

                liberty

cracked hull

                ship sinks

cracked egg

                sulfur stinks

cracked bat

                fly ball

cracked shale

                earth weeps

cracked earth

                land quakes

cracked book

                ideas make

cracked sac

                baby born

cracked bud

                flowers bloom

cracked window

                enter breeze

cracked wall

                humans freed

cracked smile

                contagious joy

~

Words and Photography ©2018 Tanya Cliff ~ to contact me

Posted in poetry & free verse. Bookmark the permalink.

2018 – My Hope

2017
birthed
a colicky infant
who, although spoiled and overfed,
produced a continuous line
of
mostly incoherent
squawks
from his high nest

by spring
he had grown into the playground bully
amassing toys,
hoarding even,
to make his sandbox castle great
AGAIN

by summer,
or buy,
his overgrown form
preached from a pulpit like a profit-god
A MASS
that sounded
oddly
like his former spoiled, soiled
colicky
chirps

by autumn…
I don’t know what he said.
I bought earplugs
to relieve my throbbing
MAGAraine
suffering
head

2018
I HOPE
has birthed infants everywhere
who will cry from the collective pools
of
starvation
poverty
and
neglect
AND
that the children of spring
will remove the genetically-modified cotton
stuffed in our privileged ears,

so that we who have will

listen

&

share

~

Words and Photography ©2018 Tanya Cliff ~ to contact me

Posted in poetry & free verse. Bookmark the permalink.

The Barbarian’s Fiddle

I sat in a room
with a noisy crowd
who hated all things “Asian”
haunted, they were
by world war ghosts
and
communist libations
they speared the Barbarian-Yellow Goldfish
in their community pond
and
siphoned the living waters
leaving sandy bottoms –
the dried grains of bigotry
kicked and whipped
into a blinding storm

Their Dust Bowl creation
ever threatens to choke the next generations

I made two strings sing
in
melancholic
tragic
vibrato
that mimicked the human voice
Persecuted

The room fell momentarily silent

I played on

Suffering
is
an
endless
tune

until, interrupted by an old man
coughing up affected phlegm
that he spat into the Dust Bowl
slightly settled through his falling tears

I paused

He inquired as to what beautiful instrument
had seduced his soul to
blissful
despair
An erhu, I sighed
It is Asian –
otherwise called the “Barbarian’s Fiddle”
Its two, long strings carry the vibrations
of generations of tears splashed down onto the collective pool
by those you persecute by referring to them as
“slanted-eyed Chinks”

He snorted and laughed
He kicked some dirt in my face

I played on

Suffering

an endless tune carried in the vibrato of two Asian strings

~

Words and Photography ©2017 Tanya Cliff ~ to contact me

Posted in poetry & free verse. Bookmark the permalink.

 

With Reservation – Revisited

 

“Words do not pay for my dead people.”

Shall we talk
about
it
awhile while we travel the miles
of
defiled
land
slaughtered
animals
murdered
people
that
lead
to a
place
you will be
graciously confined
called
a
reservation
but
you
don’t
need
an
application
just
lose
your
apprehension
and
stay
put
here
awhile while we hand out the piles
of
stingy
food
rationed
goods
white man’s
ways
that
you
are
being
graciously supplied
without
hesitation.

“Good words will not give me back my children.”

Yes, but you fled
showing great
premonition
against our
demands,

AND

we require
your
supplication
without
RESERVATION.

“Treat all men alike. Give them all the same law.”

Sure, just submit
to our
imposed
economic
spiritual
cultural
bounded
limitations

until we discover the next resource we want.

“Give them all an even chance to live and grow.”

You ARE free to live
and grow –
within the
restriction
called
a
RESERVATION
and
all
its
white man’s
imposed
economic
spiritual
cultural
bounded
rules!

“Let man be a free man – free to travel, free to stop, free to work, free to trade where I choose, free to choose my own teachers, free to follow the religion of my fathers, free to think and talk and act for myself – and I will obey every law, or submit to the penalty.”

Sigh.

We’ve talked
about
it
awhile
while you traveled the miles
to
bitter
tears
stolen
lives
broken
hearts
that
you
have now
been
forever (until we discover the next valuable resource we want need)
graciously subjected to
called
a
reservation
but…

“You might as well expect the rivers to run backward as that any man who was born a free man should be contented when penned up and denied liberty to go where he pleases.”

but…

“I am tired of talk that comes to nothing. It makes my heart sick when I remember all the good words and all the broken promises.”

but…

“All men were made by the same Great Spirit Chief. They are all brothers…”

but…

“Words do not pay for my dead people.”

~

All the words in quotes above were taken from a speech given by In-mut-too-yah-lat-lat (Thunder traveling over the Mountains), more commonly known as Chief Joseph. He was chief of a tribe of the Nez Perces (Wal-lam-wat-kin band of the Chute-pa-lu), a group of people who had maintained peace with white people since they had first met and helped Lewis and Clark in 1805. It was always his goal to live peacefully with the white people. After a few young Nez Perces men took revenge on a white settler group who had killed their own fathers and brothers, Chief Joseph’s tribe became the target of military action and revenge, in spite of his appeals.

~

I am revisiting “With Reservation”, first published last year, in recognition of Native American Heritage Month and the continuing battle in my state (Line 5) and others to recognize treaty rights and improve the living conditions of and opportunities available to Indigenous groups. We have a long way to go.

The United States celebrates something we call “Thanksgiving” this week. In schools, students are taught the story of Native Americans who helped Pilgrims during a difficult season and the meal they shared to celebrate the harvest. In truth, colonialism resulted in the decimation of hundreds of nations and millions of human lives. Those who didn’t perish faced the loss of culture, dignity and ancestral lands. The destruction to natural resources that Europeans wrought on the so-called “New World” has included everything from buffalo to water. The persecutions and resource grabs continue to this day.

~

The complete original post can be read here.

~

Words and Photography ©2016 & 2017Tanya Cliff ~ to contact me

Posted in poetrynoDAPL & human rights. Bookmark the permalink.