but if your heart flutters

But if only your heart became wings

transparently suspending the hummingbird,

but if only your heart became a moth

springing upon a chaotic meandering,

but if only your heart became eyelashes

tapping views into thoughts into view again,

but if only your heart became a leaf-

flag signaling autumn upon a twig,

but if only your heart became a candle flame

to strobe past visions of night,

but if only your heart became a bow

percussing trills to poetic strings,

but if only your heart became fingers

straining for increments of strength,

but if only your heart became a curtain

laced for the gazing wind,

but if your beat became only a flutter

we would hold it in our hands forever.

-for Robin, may your great heart beat strong.

DGG 8-24-11
photo: h.g. giese

guess again

Hitch a hike

lift with praise

pick a penny

reap a raise

what am I?

Point the finger

judge the sucker

name the owner

be the mother

what am I?

Flip this member

from a pocket

the longer the better

this bird will say f...orget-it.

what am I?

slip the band

onto the fourth one of the hand

but make the world understand

you aren't owned by any man

what am I?

the fifth is the grip

if too loose, it spills lids

if painful it will slip

or get hooked on a lip

what am I?

Shaking a fist

busting meat to the bone

cracking knuckles in a scrape?

...an open palm

can give

or own...

This is a photo of therapeutic silver rings, used to improve alignment and function and  prevent further deformity in fingers damaged by arthritis.  Look up: "Silver Ring Splints" online.

Serendipity in a paradox #11

Out of darkness          into light

Before the dawn,

the land is void

shifting between chasm

snd cliff face.

From undifferentiated darkness

a vaporlit film forms

in the vanishing points:

sourceless, pervasive.

Sensing massiveness

evolving: 

onyx edges

cut the firmament.

Moving into emerging

valleys, vales and voids:

envision indefinite shapes

into illuminated forms.

Hills metamorphosis

into volumes

to touch

and circumscribe.

The pearling vault

extrudes greens below

transposing

illusions of black.

Flushed-tinged

cheeky clouds

blush to barely touch

the unseen sun.

Facing the evanescent

blooming dawn

gives the most brilliant

gift of sight.

Another take on the theme, it is always darkest before the dawn. May you find Serendipity when it comes your way

Wordless Weds is my Tues Toes

I finally feels like summer here on the central coast of California, a noontime walk with a friend became a drenching sauna......Oh, and yeah, then there was the Green Man in the lawn....................

Serendipity in a paradox 10

Slight of Hands

Hands unpeeled by cancer scars

and wrought in knots, still knit wool scarves.

Healed too small, fingertips drop beam and ball,

but open the door, lift a child off the floor.

Puppet hand turns a toddler's bedlam

to Sherry Lewis's voice, transfixing lambs.

Nails are lengthened, painted, adorned,

until one's missed, then it's hardly ignored.

Her core radiates from her palm

to wick cold sweat like lavender balm.

His hands, broad as a pillow's spread,

can trace each hair upon a head.

Some injuries are losses, some are gifts. One door closes and another one opens.  I treat hands after injury or surgery at my work.  Until you can't use your hand, you don't realize what it does. A large proportion of your sensory brain and muscle control centers are dedicated to the hands and thumbs. Your hands have more bones than your back. Would you see a general orthopedic surgeon to operate on your back? No. But how many people go to a generalist when the hand is severely severed or broken?  The therapy following is equally complex, handled best by a Certified Hand Therapist with experience.

We learn to value what we have/had after it is taken away or damaged........
 May you recognize serendipity when it comes your way.

sunday 160, when the moon hits your eye

       Open the orbs, howl with the owl, hold the bones, pound the drone, oscillate outside upon onyx loam, observe halos, owe the original olden opal, honor the moon.

photo: H.G.Giese

( This is a poem in exactly 160 characters, spaces included. Try it yourself and post on Sunday.  Visit the host with the most 160 tales on his blog, Monkey Man, at  http://petzoldspracticalprose.blogspot.com/2011/08/sunday-160-wish-upon-star.html
and let us know about yours!)

Serendipity in a paradox # 9

Give me a full moon:


New moon, fresh sky, meteors flash to the naked eye.

Crescent sickle, piercing slate, a hanging handle to galaxy's gate.

Dark-masked half-moons, denying hidden blues.

Gibbous waxing full and ripe, fruit of loin and rounding high.

Ah, the moon's full-faced and seasoned, alive and vivid with clarity and reason.

(The moon is full tonight, unfortunately blocking the meteor shower view with its light.  There is beauty in a night with no moon, the crescent can be startlingly sharp and star-catching, the half-moon can change it's face, the full moon lights the night world, but obscures the milky way.

   So, enjoy all the stages of moon-viewing.)  

Which moon moves you the most?  Why?

serendipity in a paradox 8.

From above
is a sentinel's sight

from within
it's burning bright,

from the wind
driving arrow-like

to the heart
diving fast as light

to embrace
talon tight,

grounding spirals
landing upright

a supportive friend
with a falcon's might.




This was a California Red Tail Hawk, the largest local predatory bird.  On the coastline, the Peregrine falcon is it's counterpart.  This juvenile hawk tried to fly in the window at my clinic.  He spent the following hour sitting outside, stunned by the window glass.  He kept a close eye on us, but didn't retreat when we came up to him.  He just watched us move behind the glass, baffled. (eventually he flew away)

Serendipity in a paradox # 7.

What you get from assuming:

Like holding your breath

when you’re about to get wet

Like wanting a prize

you know you won’t get

Like scooting out backwards

from under a bed

Like straining your eyes

in a cave full of webs

Like slapping a face

with pain and regret

Like losing the memory

of someone you’ve met

May you recognize serendipity when it comes your way.

Wordless Weds is my: Tuesday Toes

May you recognize serendipity when it comes your way.

serendipity in a paradox 6.

Only after one's fed,

satiated enough

to be free of

the cavernous

starvation,

can one think about

feeding another, and

preparing the next meal.










What makes you feel satiated?

serendipity in a paradox 5.

If you hear only one sound, without the image, can you hear the dichotomy within it, and love it for both:

purring and the mewing
rustling and the digging
blowing and sussurant
rumbling and hissing
rasping and tenor
guttural sighing.



(I've been studying a sound I love, and trying to describe it.  Without success, I can only draw analogies.  Isn't that why we write poetry?)

Can you guess, or create your own images to go with these sounds?  I know what mine are, what are yours?

serendipity in a paradox 4.

I walked with the moon tonight

a gold sickle:

sharp and bright.

She cradled his head

darkened, faceless

and dead, 

400-billion 

milkyway

suns shone instead.

Wordless Weds. = Tues. Toes

Serendipity in a Paradox,  3.

Grounded in bronze, 

stillness is an art

I think.

(Rodin's Thinker's Feet, Philadelphia)