Amputated Moon

I hear your laughter

in the mockingbird’s sweet song

as you drive away

Pamela Olson, 3/30/08

This haiku is the response to the

prompt of “laughter”

at One Single Impression.

The prophet stands by city hall

speaking words given to her

by the kiss of God

fire in her eyes

singeing her tongue

she calls out the message

“come, repent, see”

all she ever says

all she ever wants

forever and forever

where should I come to

what should I repent of

what does she want me to see

she never tells

the secret

only the fire-words

that are branded

onto my heart

“come, repent, see”

and the cars stream by

like photons of light

each on their own trajectory

and the people cross the street

purposefully

avoiding her eyes and words

no deviations

in the slipstream

of everyday life

her words whisper to me

almost not there

but yet here

and the world moves on

people come by and leave

cars never stop

still she remains

standing by city hall

saying, “come, repent, see”

Pamela Olson, 3/28/08

 -for all the parents who are given a “word” that changes their lives

I tell you

it’s only a word

just a label

necessary for some things

unnecessary for many

only a word

that changes everything

there is before the word

and then there is after

the word is an axe

that divides time in two

an axe that splits the heart

in the end

it is only one word

among many

Pamela Olson, 3/27/08

Pine pollen lies thick

fertile golden pearls falling

on grass and rooftops

floating in puddles

yellow algae bloom

signal of impending spring

Pamela Olson, 3/24/08

For the prompt of “Spring” at One Single Impression.

The end of day brings forth

the shadowed dusk

seeping like flood waters

blue, green and brown

from a creek

just out of sight

below the treed hill

the shadow-flood rises

from its source— East

sluicing across the soil

over still-dead winter grass

gathering in the dips and hollows

gathering into shadow puddles

where past seasons’ debris

floats in eddies and swirls

leaves and branches rush forward

rising up, rising up

the evening-water brings more offerings

the feathered quiet of the birds

the mirrored moon

and the silent stars

I turn my back on the gloried sun

setting in a sky of pink and sepia

and wade through the floodgate

into the welcoming dusk

Pamela Olson, 3/24/08

The men have come and gone

leaving Mary to her futile vigil;

her feet damp from the dew,

her tongue still full of Passover’s bitterness.

She is caught in an eternity of sorrow

that filled the numbed nights

and obscured the Sabbath;

her heart and hope veiled.

Tied to that place of vacant death

with nothing to do—

no body to anoint, no linen to arrange;

she waits, forsaken, until

He calls to her—“Mary!”

Pamela Olson

Can you hear the song of the snake

emerging from its winter den

new shine— new scales—

same old song

Can you hear its approach

scales sliding across desert sand

sides brushing against parched grass

notes hiding in the rubble

of its earlier sojourns

Snake sings out

through the air waves

along print lines and voice of media

power picks up its melody

adding dissonant harmony

Can you hear

the song of the snake

it surely doesn’t speak

peace

Pamela Olson

O Moon in the night

you are caught in my branches

free yourself from me

I cannot bear your light

we must not love each other

Volvox colonies

one cell joined to another

circles in circles

Pamela Olson, 3/16/08

This haiku was written in response to

One Single Impression’s prompt “circle”