cool and gray

cool and gray

sky the shade
of splintered concrete
half a world away
in the dark, families
fight for freedom
their homes shattered
a similar gray—
where I live,
there’s war too
a quieter kind
—for now

overlaying that
an atypical spring
gray and cool
occasional mist
drapes the trees
now late spring,
jasmine kisses my nose
hummers sip aloe
their iridescent green
against deep orange
lavender swells
so does my unease

I can’t turn away
befriend it instead
this curious bouquet
of fair and fear

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

their song

their song

five-thirty a.m. birds
chirping full-throated,
greeting first light
in amiable harmony
beyond them
town’s rumble
rubber on pavement
jetliners lumber
into flight

what was their tiny
songbird reaction
when their loud-mouthed
cousins lifted off ground
and first took to the air—
did they feel invaded?
for millions of years
it had been their space
now shared
with metal-slick bullies

they did what birds do—
against a background
of thundering diesel,
feed and mate
build their nests
care for young
and watch them fledge
greet every dawn
unperturbed

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

resistance

resistance

sometimes the mind
resists dropping
into the heart
defiance?
fear?
I push back my chair
step outside as dawn
brightens the sky
the morning chill
kisses my ears
sparrows chirp
squirrels stuff seeds
into their cheeks—
inexorable,
day has come again

this simple act
out of my chair
into fresh air
sniffing lemon flowers
pungent sweetness
fingering pea pods
my heart settles
and pluck returns
I can meet this day

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

the key

the key

slow to learn
I searched in things
and those I knew
for this crux, this clue
until one day
I turned around
and found
the code inside
the key matched
a slot in my heart,
and when I slipped it in
like an arrow nocked
to its bow, it fit—
my task remained
allow trust
the turn
to open me

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

the tryst

the tryst

with a nod to Robert Frost

a promise I made
while still in the ethers,
before the glint
in my parents’ eyes,
an agreement—

no matter where
I birthed or who
my people turned out
to be, I pledged
to hunt for truth

plopped in a family
of rabid unbelievers
pushed me to probe
for like-hearted friends
with a similar promise—
I longed to grow up
and leave home

once on my own
it took a long time
but I found them—
a tribe where my tryst
was commonplace,
they all understood
we longed for epiphany
and the groundwork
for heart opening began

mine had snapped shut
so it took a long time
but at least I had
friends on the journey—
and that has made
all the difference

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

stubborn praise

stubborn praise

it’s a wreck, this world
mishandled, misused—
human’s ugly touch
everywhere
plastic clogging the seas
trash pitched on roads,
minds that are broken
and vicious
and yet…
when sun dusts the trees
light plays the leaves
and breeze butterflies
my skin,
I breathe
grateful for dawn
grateful for love
grateful for you

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

dialect of silence

dialect of silence

this field of quiet,
the ground beneath
the language of stillness
few understand
and some even dread—
why fear what holds us?
available to all
this gift, this gold

the standing nation
knows it best
giants stood
for two-thousand years
I believe they listen
which is why
the forest is sanctuary—
as I stand among them
I feel their attending

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

missed it

missed it

I missed first light
stubbed off the watch
that rumbles me awake
nodded back asleep—
this day’s dawn
is gone
a minuscule thing
but a loss

a chiding whisper
lazybones
whose voice is that?
gone forty-five years
my father come to visit—
and this, his first dispatch?
then I remember
sticks and stones
can break your bones
but words
can never hurt you

useful, but not true
unless you construct
a fortress—
I whisper back
with the warmth
my heart holds,
I love you, too—
all this
from missing dawn

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

bell

bell

I invite the bell
again and again—
toll me awake!
I envision a belltower
a resonant bell
a prayer of sorts,
although what
could I ever pray to?
I launch prayers
into the void
chock full of
knowing and love—
the bell resounds,
sonorous
the echo reminding
I’m already home

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

choice

choice

Choose what you want and then pay for it—Robert Bly

that’s how life works—
choose parenting or not
bold pup over shy one
smiling or sneering
this over that
each choice
shifts the day
shapes our way

no choice is choosing
there is no escape
select with care
you will live it

I don’t judge others
I choose first light
and dove call over
late night and alcohol
I choose the sweet
quiet of home over
beer joints and bluster
a stream of kindness
over sniping and blame
this life, so short
my choice matters

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.