Poem of the Week #109

This week's poem is formatted in an unusual way, and I am not blog-savvy enough to figure out how to make it look right in this electronic venue. If you only receive Poem of the Week as a feed, and you would like to see this poem, please leave your email address in a a comment and the poem will be sent to you. Thank you for reading! Lisa

Poem of the Week #108

I Like Salad

I like mine
with spinach

and arugula.
I like it dark

and spicy.
I chop fresh dill

some onion
some red pepper

I cut my carrot
into rounds

not shreds. I want
lots of olives

and hearts, of course:
artichoke, and those

of palm. Nuts, good.
Pomegranate, good.

Dried cranberries. Yes.
And feta. Best to have sweet

with salty. I dress
well, just before dinner;

eat by a window
from a wooden bowl.

When done, I use
a crust of bread

for sopping up,
or better yet,

I raise the bowl
and down the vinegar

and oil; lip-smacking good
to the last, sharp drop.

Lisa Vihos

Poem of the Week #107

Duchamp’s Door

Duchamp made a door
that hung between two frames
perpendicular to each other.

Same door, two frames.
Close one, the other is open
Close the other…
you get the picture?
One door.

And when the door
swings open on its hinge
dangling between two
frames, there is a choice.

A place where
it might be possible
to pass through both
or neither. You might
have to go out of your way.

You might have to bang
your head on the door
a few times trying
to get through, or,
you might simply
have to grab hold
the handle
and decide.

Lisa Vihos

Poem of the Week #106

The day is coming when a single carrot, freshly observed, will set off a revolution.
--Paul Cezanne


In the Meantime

Look before you leap
and leap before you languish.

Bird before you hand
and hand before you bush.

Shiver before you timber
and save before you earn.

When will you learn
to pay attention to time,

tears, and toast? Work daily.
Tend the vines. Never boast.

Take pride in your chaos,
and if you mind the mess,

grab a broom. Allow
for room and zoom

(if only to avoid kaboom).
Life is long, tall, and also

but a dream and short.
Make hay in the sun,

take all to heart.
Observe what is in you

and all around you.
Take note. It will
astound you.


Lisa Vihos

Poem of the Week #105

Clementines in a Box

Clementines in a box on the cluttered kitchen table,
your bright orangeness speaks of some warm place
so unlike this frozen wasteland of Wisconsin in winter.
You offer the promise of easy-to-peel and seedless.
Sometimes you are dried up inside, not juicy.
When I find one of you like that, I feel cheated.
That is not what a clementine is supposed to offer.
I like your small size and your good smell,
and the way your skin comes off in my hand
with just a bit of prodding. I like to eat you.
If you could tell me the secret of your orange heart,
what would you say? I am here. I am yours.
I will always make you smile. Please donate
my empty box to the Preschool. The children
will make a garden bed of it.


Lisa Vihos